Hey, it's Chloe Stamman from the Moth.
As a story director, I talk to a lot of people who say they want to tell a story, but don't know where to start. A tip I give them, get specific.
“What's a moment that meant something to you?”
Your first home run, that road trip with your dad, the time you bombed at the talent show.
Start there, then build on that foundation. You can find tips to help you identify those moments along with prompts to inspire them in the moths new guided journal my life in stories. Whether you want to find your own story, reflect on your life, or even give it a gift. You can order your copy at the moth.org/mylifeinstories.
That's the moth.org/mylifeinstories. Now, just do your podcast and a lesson from time to time. Up to all the notes. For 29, you bring to your midday pause with suggestions, roll them up. And for 1, 29, 90, you add a little bit more time to all the notes.
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You add a little bit more flour, 9,90 grams of flour. That's good for all the ingredients. Now, add a little bit more flour. All the ingredients. Good for all.
During the summer that I was 14, my parents were getting divorced. My Aunt Mary, who sensed that we could use a getaway, invited my dad, my sister, and I, to stay with her in her time-sharing for a month. It was at the top of a mountain in the trap family lodge. Yes, of the sound of music.
We drove for a half day from Pittsburgh, and when we finally got to the base of the mountain,
my father pulled the car over, locked eyes with me, and then my sister and said, "Roll down your windows." Then, he shoved the tape, he cut up into the deck, and sang along with the voice of Julie Andrews, styled up to 11, "The hills are alive!" As we made our upward climb. For years, this was our go-to dad, is such a dad story.
But now that story reminds me of how hard my father was trying to keep his two girls happy during a really tough summer. To the exuberant dads everywhere, I see you, and thank you. On that note, our first story, this week, is from Caroline Connelly. Caroline told this story at a story slam in Boston, where the theme of the night was roads.
Here's Caroline Connelly, live at the mall. [ Applause ] So the distance between my hometown of Newbury, Port, Massachusetts and New York City is about 250 miles. When you're 11 years old and strapped in the way-back seat of a Volvo station wagon with your sisters, that is enough time to be assaulted by a sibling, into
declared your conservative Catholic parents that you no longer believe in God.
“And I honestly feel like that might be why Volvo made a way-back seat because it is in”
the literal trunk of a car, and faces away from everybody else inside the car. It's like where a kidnapper might put a victim, except suburban moms were like, "Jump in, it's gonna be so fun." And honestly, my parents had kind of earned this right to do that to us. On this particular occasion, my mom had sacrificed her birthday to take us all to see Lucy Lawless debut in Greece on Broadway. She was the actress who claims, you know, the
warrior princess. And my sister and I were huge xenophans and Greece fans, so this was like the greatest gift she could ever give us. And the first part of the ride was relatively unremarkable. My mom would give us little fistfuls of drama mean that to this day, she's swears who are non-drowsy. And I'm not going to call my mother a liar or a drug dealer on this stage. But we had some very foggy car rides as kids. But this one was pretty clear because
about two hours into it, my dad is driving down the highway and he's looking for a McDonald's
so that he can get a large vanilla milkshake. I see always like to do. And my mom says to him,
"Hey, where are the tickets?" When he responds with this benign, what tickets? As if he has no idea why we're all in the Volvo heading to New York City. And she's like, "The tickets!" Well, no one had the tickets. And because this was like 1997 inexplicably, the only solution to this problem was to turn them around and drive all the way back to Newburyport to get the tickets for the show that night. So by the time we start our second trip to New York City, the Dramamine has started to
wear off. And it was this, if like, three feral cats had come alive in the backseat of my parents Volvo. So my little sister suddenly bursts into tears because she's starving. And my older sister suddenly remembers that I exist. And apparently my leg had shifted to her side of the way backseat, which was a crime punishable by a swift punch to the side of my head. And because I was smaller, but no less insane, my only recourse was to take her Nintendo game boy and hold it up and threaten
To lick all of the buttons on the surface, which is gross, but super effectiv...
let out this blood curdling scream, which prompted my mother to whip around and issue a threat
“that she loved to give us at this time on our lives, which was girls. God is watching you.”
Because I was in the way backseat and separated from my mom by like an entire row. I turned around and I was like, well, good thing I don't believe in God. Well, you pulled over really quickly after that. Adam McDonald's and my dad jumps out of the car because he had no interest in this portion of parenting. And so my mom comes around to the backseat where I wasn't gets really close to my face and she says, you better apologize for that, or I am telling sister roots what you said.
And if you have ever been a kid since a Catholic school, you know, the threat of a sister is way worse than like whatever your mother or God could ever do to you. So I was like, I am so sorry. I love God and Jesus and like everybody up there with them. And once that was settled, we went inside the McDonald's and we found my dad finally ordering his large vanilla milkshake. And he gets us some happy meals and we all go out to the car and get back in and he places his
shake down in the driver's seat and comes around to the back. Very calmly, as he always says to us,
look, could you guys please just get along for the remainder of this ride? It's your mother's birthday after all. And he gets back in the front and he sits down right on top of that large vanilla milkshake. Which causes this explosion of dairy on the steering wheel and the windshield and my mom. And I was at an age where like a new, what swear words were, but I had never heard when delivered super well just yet. And so he dropped with force, a slew of explotives. And I remember my sister's
and I looked at each other like, "Did we just break dad?" And so we drove the rest of the way in silence because nobody wanted to cross him and we get to New York City and we check into this
fancy hotel my mom had booked and we go see Lucy Lawless and she's amazing and we go back to the
fancy hotel and it's actually a pretty fabulous night in New York City for our family. Next morning,
“we all pile into the Volvo again and everybody is on their best behavior today. The only thing my”
sister's and I were complaining about was that we thought the beds at the fancy hotel were kind of itchy and were like scratching ourselves on morning. It would be a few hours and a couple hundred miles later before my mother realized we had all contracted lice at the hotel. And you would think that after like several freezing cold lice shampoo baths with a mom and dad and these three girls, no one would want to take a road trip ever again. But we've actually got on dozens more.
We still go on them today and my dad is in his 70s now and he still demands a vanilla milkshake on the way there and on the way back and for whatever reason we're all still in a Volvo station wagon. But truthfully we would we wouldn't have a new other way. Thanks. That was Carolina. Carolina is a reporter who lives and works in Boston. She enjoys horror films as well as a good romantic comedy montage. When she's not telling stories she loves to run and likes
the idea of cooking. When we followed up with Caroline, she said our last family trip was a visit to the Berkshire's a few years ago. Even though my sisters and I are now adults living in different cities, our mom insisted we all drive together. I spent four hours in the backseat listening to my father's snore and my mother asked if any of us thought we would be married soon. We were of course
in a Volvo station wagon. We always recommend Shopify. It took us from an idea to a real business.
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the supply chain to the product development. Shopify gives us the ability to customize without the complexity. We can change something without introducing fragility or having to pay a developer. Well, thirsty total and we leveled up our business with Shopify. Start your free trial at Shopify.com/AU. Okay, the jig is up. I said this was a podcast themed on parenting and it's really a very niche podcast
about my family obsession with Broadway as nurtured by my dad. Our next storyteller also made it to Broadway. Christopher Monkio Torres told this at a moss storieslam in New York City where the theme of the night was home. Here's Christopher. Live at the man. August, 2004, I'm 19. I'm at the doorway of what's going to be my new bedroom,
Which I'm sharing with my dad, who I haven't seen since I was two.
And left side of the bedroom is super clean. It's got a mattress that he stole from me. On the right side is his side that's mostly Western Union receipts ripped up scratch off lottery cards,
lots of movies all over the ground. But every night he always watched the same movie,
not terminator, not diehard, but fill on the roof. I can't tell you why this Ecuadorian man loved fill on the roof, but he watched it every night and he would ask me, his Australian son, "Come watch Fill on the roof with me." And I was like, "No." Besides the fact that it's like a three and a half hour or however many hours like saga, I at that time just didn't feel comfortable being in this very small room. When I say small, you know like the back of a u-hall,
like the tiny truck that you could probably afford, like small in that. So I would usually be in a living room and I would actually sleep in the living room of this apartment. So he was renting a room from this lady friend that he knew. It's actually not too far from here. Like 39th place in Queens,
Boulevard, so a couple blocks away. And I kind of felt bad after just always saying, "No," that
serendipously and October, same year, Fill on the roof was on Broadway. Out from Atlanta was playing
“the lead and I was like, "I'll surprise him, I'll get tickets." And here's the thing. I have a kind”
of a language barrier. Like yes, father's son, language barrier, but like my Espanol is like very movemolo if you catch my drift. So I told that, "Hey, almost a saline outside, let's go." And I have like a little like translation book that's like not working for me and he's like, and whatever Spanish you're about to hear right now is like very rehearsed. "No, me, hooking." I'm like, "I said, just to get to stay home." You know, let's watch Fill on the roof.
I'm almost fill on the roof and I'm like, "No, let's go." I'll pay for everything. He's like, "Great, let's go." The trip there super anxious. My father likes a smoke in between the train cards of the seven train and he also likes to like stop, not like walk-in-talk. He likes to stop and tell you a story. Imagine doing that in Times Square. So we finally get there, but we're like super late. And but like just enough to hear the opening song, tradition for those who know,
that's like the big number and it gives the whole story of the town and this Jewish family. And I look and I'm like, "Oh man, he's probably going to be super excited. He's going to be moving.
He's going to be amazing." He hasn't been saying anything since we got in. I don't really think
he understood what we are. Dad, he's asleep. Hi, my little like a band-in-child heart broken. I know Jim and he's just like, "Hmm, Bill, being chibdi. More chibdi, more chibdi." Right to the show, sleeping. He really woke up for like if I were a rich man, he'd love that song.
“And there is this one song. I think maybe if anybody knows it, but if you love me.”
Husband is asking the wife, if you love me. And she's just like, "You're an idiot, more or less." Because like, I've been with you for like 20, some odd years. Why are you going to ask me a question? But it keeps asking. So Malina, out from Malina, when he was doing this, he just kind of took these really long beats in asking this question and in one of those really long beats. Mind you, we're like in the balcony because it's all I could afford like in a community tuition.
And it's super quiet. And suddenly I hear, "What do you love me?" And my dad says the line. And I was like, "Oh, that's cool. People around us start a laughing, but like in a really quiet theater, like how everyone's quiet right now, like it's really loud and you laugh." And so, after Malina, like, looked in our direction. And like my father, who, like, for me, was like the Latin Paul Bunyan of my life, like shrunk. And Malina just like continues with the song.
The shows over. I will say this much. We did cry both at that far from the home I love.
“I think it's one of those songs. So, we're outside. He's taking a photo with a big poster.”
You know, Tevi is arms to big up in the air. And then I hear from the backstage Jessica's door, like some ruckus, I turn around. And like, I'm either Broadway. I don't grow up with theater, but I'm like, "Oh, I think people get signatures from these people." I was like, "Dad, let's go do this." And, you know, my dad's just like, "No, me, home." I was like, "Let's go home." I was like, "Why?" And I figured, "Oh, maybe he's scared. Maybe he's embarrassed.
I grabbed him, but I had sleeved like his my kid." And I'm like, "Hey, Mr. Malina, uh, you know, we love you, show, my dad, I'm like, "Right there?" Like, my dad loves the movies. The first time he's seen this live. And my dad's like, "Shaking his head." And Malina is like, "Oh, that's beautiful." And then I recant what happened in the balcony. And he didn't laugh. But then he like, he's got big thick eyebrows. I feel like he just moved me with them.
And he just looks at my father. He's like, "Is that true? Did you say my line?" And my dad's like, "Shakes his head, yes." And he takes his huge arm and he puts on his shoulder and like he grabs my dad. And Malina's a tall dude. He's like, "Good job. You made your Broadway debut. Congratulations.
Way to go.
"Okay, cool. Take the photo. We're on our way home." And my dad's just enamored with this photo.
“And he just keeps just looking at it. And I kind of figured out in my own interpretation like,”
"Oh, you're this dude in this story." This is the first time I had ever seen it.
It's just immigrant man, far away from his family. And he's trying to hold it together. At this point, me and my dad are trying to figure out who we are to each other. And I tell him all this. He doesn't understand a word of it. But he just says, "Me, oh, good night. This is a good night." He goes in between the train cars. He's smoking in the cigarette. He looks like the film, the roof, because it's like in the shadows. He's returning to Queensborough Plaza.
And then when we get home, like, I actually, that night was the first time I slept in the room with him together.
Thank you.
“That was Christopher Monkio Torres. Christopher is an Ecuadorian American playwright.”
Teaching artist and live storyteller born and bred in Queens, New York. He first practiced creative writing while pretending to study for his forensic psychology degree. He since founded "Fail Better and Why See," a by-pock centered artist community where he produces and hosts a monthly storytelling workshop show, "Fail Better Storytime." We followed up with Christopher about his relationship with his father now.
Here's Christopher. I wish I could tell you the follow-up is that we had more nights like that that we remain connected and I really wish we did. But it feels sincere and not what storytelling is for me if I gave some sweet button at the end. You see him and I haven't spoken in the year. The most I can say that feels like a realistic follow-up is that my relationship with my father
is in itself, like a fell on the roof, at least to how to have he explains it. Follows are hard. I figure sons are just as difficult. Relationships between the strange follows and son has felt like a pretty high roof to me. I'm not sure even till now if him and I know how to keep our balance. But we tried and now we've fallen off that roof.
So here from the month about my gesture of love from that night, especially when I've been thinking a lot about him these days feels like a sign and I am very big on signs. I haven't been sure how to start the conversation with him after not talking with him for this long,
but maybe I can present this gesture to him, be packaged that our first story together is going to
be shared with the world and maybe that can help us try and then keep that balance. That was Christopher among coyoteurs. There is no one way to parent. There is no one way to show love to a parent. There is no one way to love anyone. In my family though, it often includes a
“saying along. Okay, all right kiddos. We're going to say at 1, 2, 3. Can we say it together?”
Have a story worthy week. Let's try again. Ready? Have a story worthy week. That was Kate Tellers and her children. Kate Tellers is a storyteller host and director of mothworks at the moth. Her story, but also bring cheese, is featured in the moth's all these wonders. True stories about facing the unknown and her writing has appeared on McSweeney's and the New Yorker. Podcast production by Julia Purcell.
