The Moth Radio Hour: The Love Hurts SLAM

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Whenever, wherever, however you shop changed. A lot continues to change.

But one thing stays the same.

Every February, as a sort of answer to Valentine's Day or an alt-Valentine's Day,

we put on shows all over the country with the theme, Love Hurts.

Now, maybe it sounds to you like it would be a huge bummer, but somehow it's not.

Yes, people bring stories of heartbreak and good love gone wrong and being crushed and kicked to the curb, all of that.

But it's always somehow a lot of fun, too.

The math of love always switches things around.

You lose, but then, lo and behold, you find again.

We always enjoy the interpretations of our themes.

And in this hour, we'll hear five stories all born in February at a Love Hurts Story Slam. Our first story was told at the Love Hurts Story Slam in Boston, where we partner with PRX and WBUR.
Little inside baseball. At our storytelling competitions, people sign up to tell, but there are often more wannabe tellers than there are slots.
So as a rule, we only hear 10 stories. After those 10 stories are told, we have all the people who didn't get a chance come up and give their first lines.
But every once in a while, there aren't three or eight extra names in the hat, but just one extra. And if the audience gets wind of it, well, just listen to how our Boston host handles it.
Here's Jeremy Brothers trying to keep

the Boston crowd at bay, and then after that, the 11th storyteller, Andrew Brown. Let's welcome up

right now the person who didn't get to tell his story tonight, so that we can just hear

the first sentence. Please welcome up Andrew Brown.
Andrew Brown.

Yes.

The first sentence of Love Hurts from Andrew Brown.

This story goes out to my wife, who I love very much, and encouraged me to come up and tell my story. Oh.

That's so sweet, but it's also such a tease.

Because it's not the first story, that's like the, that's the prelude. Well, you know, assault him in the first story.
That's the prelude.

Well, you know, assault him in the front room. All right, Andrew, get on up here.
Oh, my God. It's a moth first.
We're doing 11 stories. This one is not counting toward the judging.
All right. Andrew will tell his story right now.
We'll do the judging. Look, we're completely off book with the running order tonight.
Give it up one more time. So I was a pretty prolific high school student.
Won many awards, scholarships for university. There was one event, though, that was sort of like the Oscars, where you didn't actually know who was the winner.
So everyone was sort of blinded to the results. Basically, I'm sitting in the front row, and there's an award that I think I'm going to win.

And I hear my name, Andrew.

And I start to button up my suit jacket and get ready to accept my award.

And the announcer finishes the sentence, Andrea, black.

And I'm furious, because this woman has the feminized version of my name, Andrew.

And she also has a color for the last name, Black.

My last name is Brown.

So I leave this event furious.

I'm in the back of the car.

My mom's like, why are you so angry?

I'm like, I just lost.

And for the next few months, if I received a scholarship letter and I didn't win,

I thought to myself, Andrew Black probably won it. And for years, this was in the back of my mind, years in the back of my mind.
And so I'm in my first year of medical school and a friend of mine is like, you know, you should try this website out. It's called POF, plenty of fish.
I don't know if you guys have heard of it. And so I'm like, yeah, sure, whatever, I'll try it out.
And the first person I message, really cool person, aligns very much with my goal. She likes philosophy.
She seems very educated. I think it's a good match.
And we start to have a bit of a conversation. And we send emails over the winter break.
And she asks me, tell me a bit about yourself. And I say, you know, I'm from this town, Mississauga.
I have a key to the city. And she's like, key to the city? Hmm, I got to Google this.
So she Googles me and she sees my name, Andrew Brown. And she says, ha ha ha, look how funny that is.
My name's Andrew Black. Your name's Andrew Brown.
Ha ha, isn't that funny? And I'm like, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, like capital letters, is this the Andrea Black? Like angry capital letters. And I was like, were you at this event in 2003? Were you at this event in, were you at this? And she's like, yeah, that was me.
And so for years, I carried this hate in my heart for this Andrea Black. And we had an opportunity to meet.

We had dinner, and it was fantastic.

I was able to sort of take a step back, and, you know, it was years ago. I, you know, thought I'd give her a chance, and she was a great person.
And at our wedding, her... Her father was actually able to find videotape from 2003 where Andrew's accepting her award.

She's going up the stage and she's getting her award, shaking hands.

And then Andrew Brown, he's coming up to the stage and shuts off the camera.

Didn't even take a photo of me.

Like, it was crazy.

And this is at our wedding, and people are like, ah, it's so funny.

And it brought back all those feelings of resentment and fear and hatred.

But I can say I do love my wife very much.

We're doing fine.

We've gotten over that hurdle.

Sometimes it's a problem, but for the most part, I think we're doing all right.

Thanks so much, guys. That was Andrew Brown, Dr.
Andrew Brown.

He's now a specialist in interventional radiology.

His wife, Andrea, is a teacher and educational consultant.

I got a note from Andrea who reports that Andrew is, quote,

a fantastic husband and a doting father of two.

She says they're no longer rivals, but a fierce team.

To see a picture of Andrew and Andrea at their wedding, visit themoth.org,

where you can also see the video clip of the awards ceremony that left Andrew so ticked off. Next up, we hear a story from Josh Arnold at the Love Hurt Story Slam in Kentucky, where we partner with Louisville Public Media.
For this story, you should know two things. The chair Josh refers to is a wheelchair, and an altar call is when a person is called up to the altar at church to receive blessings.
Here's Josh Arnold. Can you unwind one, two? Yep, unwind that and make it a little longer.
Please right. Here you go.
Please hold. Yeah.
All right, you guys here? Okay. All right.
Awesome. Go for it.
All right. Well, I didn't really expect to do this, but okay, here we go.
I think I'll just say I lost a bet. But, you know, you would suppose that if you went to church, that's supposed to be where you experience love.
But most people, when they look at me, they don't get an accurate read on what I am. What they do is they see the chair, and they remove me from it, and they put themselves in it.
So, and I've been dealing with this most of my life, all my life, and especially in church. And my cousin one time, he asked me to go to this church down in a very small town in Alabama.
There's like less than 600 people there. And I don't think anything about it.
I go with him. And the church, the service is good.
The music's good. And, you know, I'm not really uncomfortable until it's time for the altar call.
And those are supposed to be emotionally uncomfortable anyway. I mean, the guy that came up with them actually said that.
It was written down somewhere, though I forget his name. You know, those are supposed to be uncomfortable, but I began to

especially feel uncomfortable as he kept, the minister, whatever his name was, kept saying,

is there anybody out there that feels they need some help? Is there something they want to go,

let go of? You know, and I was like, I began to get suspicious that, oh shit, he's talking about me. It's always me.
Why, God, why is it always the crippled boy? And I'm like, this is not about me. This is not about me.
I was really nervous. A lot more nervous than I am now, even.

And so I was like, this can't be about me.

And then I hear the minister start telling a story.

He said, normally I walk down the left side of the aisle.

And I felt compelled to walk down the center aisle.

And I didn't know why until I saw a man in a wheelchair.

Oh, God damn, this is about me. So let's just go get this over with.
So I didn't exactly walk down there, but I went down there very slowly. I guess it was the stroll of shame or horror or shock or something.

And so I get down there and they say, can we pray for you?

Now, I'd read in the book they're supposed to read that when a certain Jewish guy asked people if they

wanted help, he asked them specifically what for. Apparently they didn't read this.
And I thought they might know something I didn't know. Hell, I was trying to quit smoking that week.
So I said, sure, go ahead and pray for me. And they began to pray for me.
And they began to put their legs or hands on my legs and push into them as though the Holy Spirit needed help. To get in, like it didn't know where the hill it was supposed to go.

And then they pulled out, they did this thing called the anointing of the sick,

where they poured oil on me.

And by this time, I'm shut down, and let's get this over with,

let's let them have their show, And I ain't never coming back.

When somebody said, give him a microphone.

And I thought, oh, yes.

Please, God, if you have never heard anything else, let me have that microphone.

And so the minister leans in and he says, do you have anything you want to say? I said, yeah, I do. He said, well, what do you want to say? I said, please quit.

He said, excuse me. I said, you heard me.

I said, please quit.

He was a little surprised, and he says, why?

I said, because I didn't come here for this.

I said, you know, you didn't ask anything about me.

You just saw the chair.

What you don't know about me is that less than two years before this happened, or this is happening to me now, I had a really bad drinking problem. I don't have one today.
Also, at the same time, I was a slam atheist, and I'm not now. As a matter of fact, I'm skipping the church where I'm the associate pastor to come down here to make my cousin happy.
And I said, you just assumed that you know what God wants for me to do. As far as I know, God has told me, or it's been told to me that I can do what I'm supposed to do with or without the chair.

And he looked at me and said,

do you want to tell the congregation that?

I said, yes.

And I did.

And he got up to his credit.

He's like, I think we've all learned a very valuable lesson here today.

That, you know, we can look at people and assume that we know what they need. And we don't.
Now to their credit, they knew what, you know, they thought they knew what they needed to express love to me and they did not. And I don't really fault them for that.
You know, and for my part, I thought that if I said anything, that I would just be being rude and I'd need to shut up. But the thing about it is for me is that whether or not it sounds polite and sweet, the biggest way to show so many love to tell them the truth, even when they need to quit.
That was Josh Arnold, and I just want to pull out a quote from his story because it's so perfect for this love hurts theme. The biggest way to show somebody love is to tell them the truth.
Thank you, Josh. Do you have a story about the beauty or pain of love or sometimes altogether wrapped up in one, well, we want to hear it.

We have a pitch line, and we encourage you to call it and leave us a message.

You can pitch us your love-hurt story by recording it right on our site,

themoth.org, or call 877-799-MOTH.

That's 877-799-6684.

The best pitches are developed for moth shows all around the world.

When We Return, a story about meeting a close family member for the very first time at a funeral,

when the Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. There's no doubt about it.
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I'm Jennifer Hickson. It was February of 2009.
Daisy Rosario showed up at our Love Hurt Story Slam at the New Eurekan Poets Cafe in New York City, put her name in the hat, and got picked. She told a story that became the heart of this longer version you're about to hear now.
Here's Daisy Rosario. Hello.
Yeah. Thank you.
Yes. Hi.
So my father had just died. And after three days of sitting in my teeny tiny studio apartment, staring at walls and eating in excess, it was finally Friday, the funeral.
I was eager to get the funeral over with. I wanted the event of my father's dying to be finished so I could just mourn and grieve, but it felt like there was still so much business to be had.
It was about two hours before the funeral when I received a text message from my mother. It said, I just called your grandmother to give her my condolences.
Your brother was there. You're going to get to meet him.
My brother and I had never met, never spoken, never seen each other, nothing. We were raised on opposite coasts by our moms, him in California and me in Brooklyn, pretty much because, well, my dad was not a good man, and you should know that I'm fine with this fact.
My father was a thug, a drug dealer. Sometimes, to keep it simple, I like to say he was what rappers claimed to be all the time.
But more than anything, he was a fighter. He was a fighter in the streets.
He was a prison boxing champion. And I watched him fight for over two years as AIDS ravaged his once very strong body.
In the end we had to make the decision to take him off of life support and that was the week that I had had when I got this text message from my mother. So I had no energy or emotional stamina by which to be nervous or even worried about meeting my brother but I do remember thinking two things.
I remember thinking, one, I was hoping he would be a distraction because my recent reconnection with the family

had made me something of a novelty, and I was a little tired of being stared at, and two,

I was hoping that he was weird like me because I don't quite fit in with my dad's side of the

family. My boyfriend and I took the A train deep into Brooklyn to the funeral home, and when we

got there, we were greeted outside by one of my cousins, who when she saw me said, Oh, Daisy, your brother's in there. Go meet him.
She said it like that. She said it like a command, as if it would not have occurred to me otherwise to do so.
In my head, I reverted to being like a 12-year-old girl, and all I could think was, duh. So I walk in the building, and all of a sudden I realized that I'm kind of hiding behind my boyfriend and I'm peeking over his shoulder as we get up the stairs.
I wasn't really nervous about it until that moment when I realized this is about to happen right now and I got up the stairs and I tried to peek into the room because I wanted to get a glimpse of my brother before you know he saw me and when I peeked in I spotted him right away I did it was hard not to he was the only person who was sitting with the family whom I hadn't met before who was in the right age range I knew he was supposed to be about a year and a half older than me but more than anything he looked like me I mean he really looked like me my entire life I've always been told how much I look like my mom and it's true if you If you saw her, I got my skin color from her and my hair. But there's always been a little something about my face that I didn't quite know where it came from.
It looked a little different. And if you asked me to tell you what it was, I couldn't explain it possibly.
And the minute I saw my brother, he looked exactly like that inexplicable thing. Excited whispers started in the room as everyone realized I was standing at the door and as I started to make my way across everyone turned to me with this excited expectation.
I wasn't expecting to see that at a funeral. It was more like the look I would think you would give to the entrance of a particularly grand cake at a wedding.
And as I made my way across the room I stopped in front of my brother and stood up. And cameras came out and flashes went off as we started to hug because my family are emotional paparazzi.
I had no idea what to say to him. And I just said the first thing that came into my head.
And for you sports fans out there, I say, please forgive me because this is over a year ago. It made more sense at the time.
But the very first thing I said to my brother was I whispered in his ear, you are the Brett Favre to my Eli Manning. I was so worried that after winning the Super Bowl, like all the newspapers would be writing about me and I'm kind of a shy player.
But now that the Jets have traded for you last minute with all this controversy, nobody's writing about me at all. That's actually what I said to him.
He didn't say anything. He just kind of started to sit down and I wondered if I had said something wrong.
The minute we broke our embrace, the family kind of started to swarm me. People were running up to me trying to like say hello and show me pictures and my Aunt Margie barged right through the middle of them all and in a voice you again wouldn't think anyone would use anything at a funeral, said, Oh, so you finally met your brother, huh? Well, maybe you can get him to talk because he doesn't say anything.
She was standing about two feet away from him. I looked at all of this, and I took it in, and it occurred to me that if I was in my brother's position, it would look like I had been raised by this part of the family.
And I didn't want him to think that I was the chosen child while he was out in California with no one looking for him, because the truth was that no one had looked for either one of us. And so when everyone was slightly out of earshot, I leaned into my brother again and I said, hey, I just want you to know I didn't grow up with these people either.
I was raised by my mom just like you were raised by yours and I just met most of them at the hospital this week. So even then it's not like I was there because he called me.
I went looking for him a few years ago. My brother didn't say anything but he shifted in his chair and it felt like a larger shift had taken place as well.
I don't know if it was that the air between us had warmed or that we were making more eye contact, but in a little while I looked up to realize that we were talking. He and I had kind of moved into the corner away from everyone, standing by the door where everyone could see us because it was very clear that everyone wanted to be looking at us.
And we just kind of weren't standing around commenting on the situation at hand. We weren't trying to catch up on everything that we had missed.
No heavy conversation. Just kind of united in our awkwardness against this room full of an extended family and friends of a family that we didn't know.
At one point he turned to me and he said, what are you doing this weekend? Because I'm here until Monday and I hope you know I want to see you every day until then. I was surprised and I liked the idea of it.
I could see why now that we were beginning to chat, but I still didn't know what it meant. And then a little while later he added, oh, by the way, I have a son.
His name is Damien, and he's 12. You have a nephew.
I really like the sound of that because I'd grown up an only child, and I never thought I would have a niece or a nephew, but I still didn't even know what that meant. I mean was I ever even going to meet this kid? As the day wound down it was time for the speeches and the official eulogy was given by one of our many cousins.
This one happened to be a preacher and he did a good job. He you know recited what he said was my father's favorite psalm and he told a couple of little anecdotes about my father's last few years, his realizations that the problems that he had gotten into in his youth had led him to where he was at the time.
For example, he had always been known by this nickname on the streets. Like, ever since he was really young, my father had always been known by this nickname, so much so that more people in the room at the funeral home were calling him by that name than by his real name.
And in his last few years, he didn't want the kids in the family to call him by that name. Now, that name was trouble because that's what he is and that's what he was.
And, you know, when you're from where he's from, you just need to let people know what they're dealing with right away. Like, there's no effort to be clever.
It's just kind of like this is the deal. So my father always was trouble.
But in his last couple years, he insisted that the little kids in the family called him Bubbles because he didn't want them to associate him with such a negative name, you know, which for him is like the sweetest thing, you know. And so they talked about that and I thought it was nice.
And then the preacher wrapped it up and sat back down. I started to look around the room and I realized that people were kind of looking at me.
And while I didn't have anything planned to say, you know, I had that moment where I thought, well, you only go to your father's funeral once. And if you don't say anything, you might regret it.
And so I got up and I made my way across the room. I turned and I faced out into the audience and they were just staring at me.
I mean, much differently than this, they had spent their whole lives hearing about me but not meeting me. So they were not just looking at me.
They were absorbing me with their eyes. They were trying to catch up on years' worth of information and just that look.
And since I had nothing planned and I didn't know where to begin, I just started there. And I said, I wish you could all see what it's like looking out onto all of you, looking back at me it's it's a lot and you know you all very kindly keep coming up to me and telling me how sorry you are but I have to tell you I'm so sorry for your loss because you all know him so much better than I ever did or ever will you have stories about him I barely have any I only have a couple from when I was really like I, I have a story about the time that he promised to take me to the Bronx Zoo and he took me to the Bronx and, and then we sat in somebody's apartment most of the day.
And then he got me to the zoo about 10 minutes before it closed, ran me through the exit. So we didn't have to pay and like went as fast as we could back out the entrance or like the time that he said he was going to take to the movies and he took me to see Exorcist 3 Which was like extra weird because I hadn't seen Exorcist 1 or 2 and I was 8 years old Like you guys they laughed and I was glad because I didn't want them to think that I was making fun of him so much as Those were the only stories I had and I had long ago stopped associating any animosity with them, and I just started to see the humor in them myself.
I finished up what I had to say. I made my way back to my seat, and I was completely shocked when my brother got up and he walked across the room to the podium.
I mean, if I didn't have anything to say, what was he going to say? He'd only met our father one time.

He was spending the summer in New York with his mother's extended family, and I think one of our aunts took him to visit our father in prison. That was their only meeting when he was seven years old.
So what was he going to say? He got up there, and he looked out on everyone. He paused for a moment, seemingly taken aback by the crowd the same way I was and then he began I don't really care that he's dead I mean it's not that I don't care I don't want to be rude or anything it's just that like you know I didn't know him at all and it's like it's I don't I never even spoke to him so you know I don't want to be rude it's just I wasn't even going to come here today.
I mean, when they called and told me about it, I was thinking, why bother? But then on the phone they said, you know, your sister wants to meet you. And when he said that, he started to well up.
And he started to cry. And he didn't just start to cry, he started to bawl.
And you could tell just by looking at him that he was not someone who cried often. And if you couldn't tell that by his demeanor, you could tell that by his reaction to crying because it didn't make any sense.
He didn't try to wipe away his tears. He tried to take the heels of his palm and jam everything back into his eyes as if everything was just going to go right back where it came from.
And then he continued and he said, and now I've met her. And his voice broke up some, and he pointed towards me, and she's beautiful.
And I was so stunned. I didn't know what to think or to feel.
I knew he wanted to, like, have dinner this weekend, but I didn't know that I was the reason he had even gotten on the plane. And so I just sat there, overwhelmed by the sense of flattery, which I tell you, when you get up in the morning to go to your dad's funeral and you put on that terrible little black dress that you've bought for just that occasion, you do not think you're going to feel that at any point during that day.
But that is all I could feel, just shock and flattery. My whole family, because, you know, at a funeral we all sit in the front row together.
I'm sitting in the front row with them. And as this is happening, they all are looking at him and they are crying.
And then they all turn to me and they say, Daisy, go be with your brother. Go be with your brother.
Go stand next to your brother. Go be with your brother.
Because for people that I didn't grow up knowing, they have no problem telling me exactly what they want me to be doing at any given moment. And so I got up and I kind of awkwardly walked over there and I got there and realized that I had nothing so I just kind of awkwardly tapped him on the shoulder and stood back and I guess I'll be here if you need me pose.
And he wrapped it all up by saying, oh um yeah and I have a son so you know like the Rosario name is to go on or whatever. This is how I became both an aunt and a younger sister at my father's funeral.
We did end up hanging out that weekend. We went to see four Christmases.
It was fine. We ended up talking and texting and emailing each other every day in the months that followed.
And when birthday came up just about two months after I was so happy and completely surprised to receive receive a huge shipping envelope full of birthday cards 28 of them in fact one for every single year that we had not had together we were constantly surprised to this day to realize how much we actually have in common for two people that didn't actually grow up anywhere near each other. Genetics are a pretty amazing thing.
We laugh a lot, and I've gotten to go to his wedding. He's since gotten married, and he's come to visit here, and I've gone out there and taken my nephew to play video games and things like that.
It's really amazing. But it was kind of crazy because one of the first things that we agreed upon that first weekend, sitting in a diner and talking One of the things that we just both could not deny Was that as much as you want it to happen a different way? You know I didn't want my dad to have to die to meet my brother I didn't want it to happen in this pattern as much as you don't want any of that With the lives that we had led with the things that I had been going through the years before and the things that my brother had going on in his life, we realized that it couldn't have happened any other way.
And it'd be nice if it could, but it is what it is, and we couldn't be happier to find each other. Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you.
That was Daisy Rosario. Daisy was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York.
She's an executive producer of original content at Stitcher and frequent contributor to NPR's pop culture happy hour. Daisy is still close with her brother.
Although they live on opposite coasts, they try to see each other as often as possible. With the addition of twin boys, Daisy now has three nephews.
To see a picture of Daisy with her brother the weekend they first met, visit themoth.org. Coming up, more love-hurt stories,

one involving Star Trek,

and another about trans life in a small town,

when the Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. You just realized your business needed to hire someone yesterday.
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I'm Jennifer Hickson. We're celebrating Love Hurts Slam Stories.
This next one is from Asheville, North Carolina, where we partner with Blue Ridge Mountain Radio. Here's Gary Sizer.
I grew up in the 1970s. I was raised by my mom, my grandma, and television.
My real dad split when I was three, and my brother was one. Fortunately, Grandma and Pappy lived across the street.
So much of my childhood routine consisted of staying up late with Grandma and Grandpa, watching monster movies, and then watching Star Trek. We were in the projects, and we were on welfare, and there were custody issues, and it was chaotic.
And the way I coped as a young child with chaos was by imprinting on one of the characters from television, someone who was most likely to keep his head screwed on straight when shit hit the fan. The science officer of the USS Enterprise, Mr.
Spock. The half human, half Vulcan science officer was famous for his ability to repress his emotions and use his logic to get through any kind of unpleasant situation.
And even during the single digit years of my childhood, I latched on to, this is what's going to get me through. This is how I need to conduct myself.
Well, that made me into a weird kid. And according to my therapist, it also made me into a weird grownup.
But somewhere in between, while I was a weird teenager and when my brother and I were finally old enough to be left on our own, my mom started working on filling on that gap where the positive male role model used to be so interesting thing that as a single parent finding a new partner is often a group effort so whoever she brought home had to meet the incredibly high standards of myself and my younger brother and I don't know you know whether it's just by coincidence or if this is just how things are in my family. We have this nerdy side to us.
Every man that my mom brought home during my teenage years was a little bit nerdy. There was a ham radio operator, an actual engineer, and one guy who bragged about having been an extra in Close Encounters of the Third Kind.
So I joked with my mom, as only a teenage boy could, that she wasn't really dating so much as she was auditioning a new science officer for our tiny little enterprise. So we were really excited when she found Dale.
He was not only our favorite, but also hers.

Dale was a middle-aged middle school teacher who taught history and science. And their relationship blossomed, and just as I was reaching the age where it was time for me to move out and go to college, they decided to get married.
so when they finally did get married and consolidate households I was already

off in the dorms and only coming home on spring break and in between semesters, so I missed that whole angry period of slamming doors and saying, you're not my dad, you can't tell me what to do. We went straight to adult bonding and it turned out that we had a lot in common and not only did we become fast friends but we became fast family.
Because he was a teacher of history and earth science, Dale had all these wonderful collections. And we would spend hours in the basement together while I was home on break, looking at fossils and geodes and crystals, while talking about our favorite TV show together.
You guessed it, Star Trek. Now, Dale was more of a fan of next generation, and we often argued the merits of, you know, who was cool, or Spock, or Commander Data.
I always thought Data was manufactured, which made his problems a little less, I don't know, a little less real. But these are the things we bonded over, And another thing that we really had in common

was that Dale was a huge fan of wordplay and puns.

And because he was a teacher, he had this deep, booming voice.

So whenever he told a joke, no matter how stupid it was,

everyone paid attention.

Would you like to hear one?

Dale would say things like, he didn't write these,

but he had a collection of them.

He would say things like,

a young lady walks into a bar, and she tells the bartender she wants a double entendre, so he gives it to her. I remember one time we were in the basement looking at artifacts of some kind.

And I was really feeling familial.

And I said to Dale, I said, you know, I can't call you dad.

But because your name shares many of the same letters as that word,

and it sounds like it, I just want you to know,

every time I say Dale, I mean dad.

And Dale said, that'll work. And it was the first real positive reinforcement I had had from a male role model in my life.
So I was crushed years later when Dale passed from lung cancer. While he was dying, my wife and I were in North Carolina, my parents lived in Pennsylvania, and Dale, my mom called and said, you know, we were near the end, it had been dragging on for months, we knew the end was near, and she said, you know, I think it's time for you guys to come up, and Dale says you need to hurry.
He said that he's dying to see you. This is just how he worked.
So we made it just in time. It was almost like he was hanging on just to see us.
And he got his last moments with me and his last moments with my brother and his last moments with his kids. And he was so squared away.
He had everything perfectly arranged. His will was made.
The insurance was taken care of, so that when he passed, there was nothing left for us to do. And he left a request with my mother that I would speak a few words at...
He didn't have a funeral, he had what he wanted to call a celebration of life. And he asked me to speak the words at his celebration of life, and of course, I agreed.
And I remember when that day came, just being amazed by how many people were in the room. I had no idea that so many people had been affected by his life, all of his former students, in addition to our extended family.
There were as many people in that room as there are here tonight. And it was up to me to be strong.
I was their center of focus and strength for that for that day. And I said what I needed to say, and I did what I needed to do,

and I lifted him and praised his life as best I could

while remaining as stoic as I possibly could.

And after, in the parking lot, my mom approached me,

and she gave me a white envelope, and she said,

Dale asked me to give you

this after the celebration of life and i opened the envelope and inside was a stack of tops trading cards each with a portrait of a member of the principal crew of the starship enterprise starting with Captain, going all the way down through Sulu, Scotty, Bones, Uhura. And the very last card was the science officer of the Enterprise, Mr.
Spock. And there was a little yellow post-it note on the card, which when I read, I finally cried.
finally cried because it said Gary always remember that Spock was also half-human I love you Dale that was Gary Sizer to see a picture of the trading card and Dale's note to Gary, visit themoth.org.

Gary is a podcast host and audiobook narrator, originally from Newcastle, Pennsylvania.

He's also author of the book, Home is Forward. Our final story is from the New York City Love Hurts Story Slam, where we partner with public radio station WNYC.
I just recently recovered the audio

from the night in 2008. Antoinette's story has stayed with me all these years.
It also made me think this love hurts theme is golden. Here's Antoinette Thorns live at the Moth Story Slam.
I would like to start off this story with a truth.

It might be painful for me to part with, but it is pertinent to the story and everyone should know. I am a happily a transgendered woman.
I have gone through many trials and tribulations and pains and sufferings to get here

But I wouldn't change one of them because I am proud of who I am

And I am just happy the way things have turned out for me

Now you should all, thank you

Yes, I love to tug at the heart strings

You should also know my humble beginnings

I come from a very small town with equally small-minded people So,

um,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything,

everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, You should also know my humble beginnings. I come from a very small town with equally small-minded people.

Everybody is in everybody's business.

Everyone knows everyone.

You've heard of this town before.

I would suffice it to say, if one was to be cut on one side of town,

the other side of town, within a breath's time,

would know the amount and the color which would spill from the wound. So, they knew my color.
And unfortunately they knew my parents' color too, for I lived in the same town with them. As a matter of fact, under the same roof, you can imagine.
Although we didn't really see each other for probably a year. I would wake up early and I would come home late at their request.
After a while, I couldn't take painting them anymore, so I decided to move out. I didn't move too far away, though, because I liked the town.
town I loved my job I was very good at it I

was an office manager and one of my many tasks that I was to perform was to go to the bank on occasion make a deposit here and there other banking refinements now my my parents I love them to, and I can empathize with them. I really can.
It's got to be tough for them. I mean, as tough as it was for me, I'm sure if it was even a percentage of that, it was painful.
So I can only feel for them. Even though they didn't stand by me in my hour of need, I felt it necessary to get out of their sight, so I did.

Now, on this day, I am going to the bank. It's a beautiful summer day, and dressed appropriately as any woman would.
feeling good, the sun's shining, the wind is blowing in my hair, and just loving life. And I look up ahead of me and I see something familiar.
Now, this small town, you recognize everybody's face, but you could recognize their cars too. I mean, it's like 900 people, so how hard could it be? I look up ahead and I see my father's vehicle.
And, you know, we haven't seen each other in a while. And as he's coming closer to me, closer inspection, I see his face.
And it's not the look that I remember. Normally it would be one of anger and loathing and hatred.
It wasn't that. It was, I guess one could only describe it as lustful wanting.
And yeah, that's right. My dad.
Wolf-like. He's gazing at me with desire.
It's frightening. He's shaking all over,

looking me up my limbs over my shoulder to the very cheek that you see before you today. And in that second, in that very instance, he recognized me.
He didn't know it was me. and that look changed to disgust.
But this time I don't think it was disgust towards me. I think it was disgust towards him.
And he whipped his head around and he sped off without a last glance. Like he was being chased by the devil himself.
And I'm standing there. Holding my heart in two halves.
One side, I'm angry. And I'm filled with righteous indignation.
I'm filled with comeuppance. Soft.

Can't let that side hold sway.

Lean to my better half.

It's filled with, yes, pity and sorrow for him, but honor and empathy and respect.

And yeah, even love. I could not let my heart be filled with anger for this man.
It was he who said I could not become what I became. I suffered many pains at his hands.
But there's only room in my heart for one thing for him,

and that's forgiveness.

I love you, Daddy.

Thank you.

Thank you.

That was Antoinette Thorns.

Antoinette reports that it took some time,

Thank you. That was Antoinette Thorns.
Antoinette reports that it took some time, but things are now better with her parents. Although her high school portrait still hangs on the wall of their home, frozen in time, she said when she visits and they go out to eat together, her parents always use the right pronoun when speaking of her, and that feels like progress.
He also adds, I love them dearly. Antoinette is the lead singer and guitar player for her band, Thorns.
You're listening to

the band right now. This performing this song, visit themoth.org.
That's it for this episode of The Moth's Tribute to the Love Hurts Story Slam.

If you're near a slam city next February, consider putting your name in the hat and maybe bearing your soul to a room full of strangers.

Love hurts, but also heals.

Thanks to all the storytellers in this hour and to everyone who's ever told a story on our stages.

We hope you'll join us next time. This episode of the Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, Catherine Burns, and Jennifer Hickson, who also hosted and directed the stories in the hour.
Co-producer is Vicki Merrick, associate producer, Emily Couch. The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Janess, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Cluche, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Inga Gledowski, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Casa.
All stories are true as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by The Drift.
Other music in this hour from The Magic Lantern, Jerry Mulligan, John Zorn, and Thorns. You can find links to all the music we use at our website.
We receive funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.
Special thanks to our friends at Odyssey, including executive producer Leah Reese Dennis. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story,

and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.

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