The Moth Radio Hour: The Pursuit of Happiness

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This is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm your host, Jennifer Hickson.
In this hour, the pursuit of happiness. It's a deep concept from our Declaration of Independence, our inalienable right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
Scholars and lawmakers and regular citizens have debated the meaning of these words since they were first inked in 1776.

In this hour, people pursuing their versions of liberty and happiness in ways unforeseen by the framers. For example, our first story is by a woman who turns to crowdsourcing to find her joy.
Live from the Wilbur Theatre in Boston, where we partner with public radio station WGBH, here's Anne Guo. Thank you.
Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you. partner with public radio station WGBH.
Here's Anne Guo. Back in January 2014, I'm driving toward a hotel in Cambridge with a sense of dread in my stomach because I can't believe that I, a 38-year-old professional Asian mother, I'm about to become a party crasher.
And not just any party, it's the Goldberg Bar Mitzvah. This all started back in 2008 when my son was born, a time that should have been the happiest in my life.
I was diagnosed with postpartum depression. All of a sudden at work, around the water cooler, I no longer knew what to talk about.
Instead, I find myself smiling a lot, partly to hide how I was truly feeling inside, and partly because I once read somewhere that the act of smiling will trigger happy chemicals to release in your brain. And I can tell you from personal experience that it's a load of crap.
The depression lasts around two years or so. But it's not like after two years of darkness, I wake up the next morning and win the lottery.
And the happiness and joy from winning the lottery fills up that big emotional deficit from the last two years. Instead, I'm dragging around this deficit, this huge burden everywhere I go.
And anytime I have a bad day and I'm feeling a little down, I will worry, maybe he's coming back. Overall, life just felt kind of flat.
And I couldn't help but wonder, is this my new normal? Will I ever be as happy as I once was? now by the the time my son turned five, I said, all right, enough is enough. I'm going to have to do something about this.
In fact, I'm going to print my own winning lottery ticket. It's going to be something that brings me so much joy and happiness, it'll fill up my emotional bank.
Now, what could that thing be, though? I figured I'll look to my past for some clues. So I sat down at my kitchen table and made a list of all the most joyful moments in my life.
And I look at it, and a lot of them involve going on silly adventures. So I said, all right, if that's what it takes to get back to tip-top shape, so be it.
I declare the year 2014 to be the year of adventures where once a month I will make time and go on an adventure. And to help me come up with ideas and also to help hold me accountable, I sent a mass email to family and friends, making them a deal they can't resist.
I said, look, you now have an opportunity to dare me to do whatever it is you want, provided that you donate money to my favorite charity. If I hit my donation target, I will do your dare, no matter what it is, and I dubbed the project Care Daires.
And boy, did the dare start flowing in. I'm to walk 100 miles from Boston to Northampton, Massachusetts without bringing any money or food.

I'm to make a boat and float in it on the Charles River.

And I'm to speak only Shakespearean English for an entire week.

My husband, Dan, who's Jewish,

challenged me to crash ahe Bar Mitzvah.

A coming-of-age celebration for a 13-year-old boy.

So as I'm pulling onto Memorial Drive, just minutes away from the hotel,

I'm starting to experience some serious anxiety. Because if people ask me who should I say I am, I probably won't blend in with the Goldbergs.
So I have to be related either through adoption or marriage. All right, so if a family had adopted a baby girl from China 38 years ago, you'd think they know who I am by now.
All right, so that's out. Marriage.
Maybe I'm just uncle so-and-so's date, or maybe one of the kids attending the party, I'm the stepmother, or maybe I'll just ask the person to guess and just nod to whatever it is they come up with. My plan is to go in there, chit-chat with a few people, maybe get on the dance floor for a song or two.
If there's a limbo contest, there's usually a limbo contest. I might even participate.
What I won't do, however, is eat or

drink anything because I don't want to be stealing. On top of that, I bought a birthday present.
It's

just a small card game, but it's sort of my way to proactively atone for the transgression I'm

about to commit. So with the plan all worked out, I step into the hotel.
I figure I'll first do a walk by of the room to assess the situation. So after a long winding hallway, I see a large set of double doors.
As I walk past, time slows down. I see five round tables.
The one at 10 o'clock is populated with teen boys. I figure that's where my target is sitting.
The room is brightly lit. Everyone is just sitting there, quietly eating their dinners.
Holy crap, there's no music, no dancing, no limbo contest, totally unlike the bar mitzvahs I've been to in the past legally. There's no way I can pull this off because if I walk in the door, all eyes will be on me.
Everyone will hear what I have to say, and I'll be instantly exposed.

Abort mission, abort mission.

I speed walk back toward the hotel entrance, and it took everything in me not to run out

of the door in that moment.

Instead, I plop into a large couch in the lobby, whip out my cell phone, and pretend

to be texting.

Why am I doing this?

I have no idea why I take some deep yoga breath.

I want to back out, but I can't because people donated their money to charity already.

Thank you. Why am I doing this? I have no idea why I take some deep yoga breath.
I want to back out, but I can't because people donated their money to charity already. And then I remember Dan telling me, Look, all you have to do to prove that you crashed a bar mitzvah is to take a picture with a birthday boy.
I think I may have an idea. I pick myself back up from the couch, go through that winding hallway, through the set of large double doors, straight toward the head table.
Hi, how's everyone doing tonight? How's the food? I'm Anne from the catering department. A woman stands up, we shake hands, and we chit-chat a little.
By the way, I have a present here, so who's the birthday boy? My plan is to go over there to that table full of teen boys, handle their gift while one of his friends take a picture of two of us, and I'm out of here. Oh, the birthday girl, you mean? She's right here.
It's a bar mitzvah, the girl equivalent of a bar mitzvah. I got the gender wrong.
What else did I mess up? I'm just standing here. After I hand over the gift, she opens it up, looks at it, thanks me politely, and puts it away.
And I missed my opportunity for the photo, and I can't figure out what to do next. Well, normally during these celebrations, there's music and dance.
I have no idea why am I saying that, what I'm trying to do. I'm just trying to buy myself some time.
Oh, this is just a dinner for all of our out-of-town guests. The actual party is tomorrow.
What? Now you tell me I came on the wrong date and I'm crashing the dinner before the bar mitzvah? All right let's just get this over with. Thank you.
Thank you Anne. Where I from, if you take a picture with someone who's about to

celebrate their birthday, it brings you good luck. I can't believe I just said that.
It doesn't even

make any sense. I cringe so hard.
I'm just going to go home now, pay everyone back for their charity

donations out of my own pocket. I don't even care.

But that's when I hear her say, um, sure, of course. And I hand over my cell phone for the photo.
On the car ride home, I'm flooded with a sense of euphoria. It's like I just escaped a near-death experience By December of 2014 I've walked across Massachusetts I've spoken Shakespeare in English for a week And I've also built that boat Out of two pieces of plywood And my maiden voyage only lasted 10 minutes because it started leaking.

And after a whole year of monthly shenanigans,

my emotional bank is magically full again.

And I can't believe that I'm happier than I've ever been.

Thank you.

Thank you. That was Ann Guo.
She's a career coach and creator of Passion Analytics, a coaching chatbot. When Ann is not geeking out on career design or storytelling, she continues to go on adventures.
She invites you to hit her up, or maybe even join her,

if you have any great ideas.

And I think she means it.

To see a photo of Anne with her makeshift boat

and smiling at the Goldberg Bat Mitzvah, visit themoth.org, where you can also download the story. Regarding the pursuit of happiness, my family, friends, trees all bring me joy.
But I do have a peculiar source. It's a little weird.
I like to give my dog haircuts. He's a shih tzu rescue, and his hair grows insanely fast.
Professional cuts look great, but cost more than my haircuts. So I invested in a buzzer, and I found out that the way the hair falls away is so satisfying.
He's my own furry little zen garden. And unlike my kids, who get all bent out of shape if their bangs come out a little short or crooked or whatever, there are no complaints from Roscoe.
He mostly loves the attention. Sometimes he grows impatient, so the second half of the haircut has to wait.
No problem, no complaints. Mohawks, fades, the shag, I do it all.
The lack of precision in my cuts sometimes makes strangers ask, what kind of dog is that? But the happiness circles back around because it's so fun to pet him when he's freshly

buzzed. So he gets a lot of extra love.
Find your joy, people.

In a moment, a rookie cop with a secret, when the Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.

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Hiring Indeed is all you need. This is the Moth Radio Hour.
I'm Jennifer Hickson. We're talking about the pursuit of happiness,

and for many, that would include freely being your whole self, at home and at work. Our next story was told at the Tampa Theater in Florida, where we partner with WUSF Public Media.
Here's Morgan Givens. My grandmother pulled me to the side and waited until I met her eyes before she said, Now Morgan, if you ever have an interaction with the police, you keep your hands where they can see them.
You telegraph your movements. Tell them everything you are going to do before you do it.
Do you understand me? I nodded and said I did because my grandma and I have been having that same conversation for years. But the fact that we talked about it so much didn't make it any less confusing because my grandma, she was the police.
I'm serious. The woman had a badge, a uniform, a cop car, everything.
And her friends, the people who would show up at our house for backyard barbecues and cookouts, the ones who would help us move loading boxes into the backs of pickup trucks. Well, they were the police, too.

And as a kid, I didn't really understand.

Because in my mind at the time, cops were heroes.

And I was being taught to fear them.

And my grandma is one of them black women they write inspirational novels and movies about.

Thank you. And I was being taught to fear them.
And my grandma is one of them black women they write inspirational novels and movies about because she was one of the first black women through the Charlotte Police Academy. And she was excellent.
She was exceptional. She was perfection because she had no choice.
She knew they were going to judge every black woman that came up behind her by the standards she set and in the inspirational movie of my grandmother's life some well assuming white person shows up at the end and takes all the credit but if I'm keeping it completely 100 with y'all, white folks weren't checking for my grandma

like that back then. She had to sue to get the job she had already earned when she graduated from the academy.
As if she didn't have the highest academic marks in her class. As if she weren't running laps around her training instructors.

But in the end, she prevailed.

And her life turned out a bit like a fairy tale, although one with some baggage, particularly for me. Because it's already hard enough to live up to the expectations of our parents and our grandparents.

But when your grandmother is literally superwoman, it gets just a little bit harder.

And I ain't gonna stand up here in front like I don't appreciate everything she did on her path to success.

As if I can't appreciate how I can trace it like a thread of hope from her to my mother right down to me. She spent 30 years on that department.
And when she retired, we had to rent a banquet hall because of how respected she was. The chief of police showed up himself.
But I still didn't understand how some cops could turn out like my grandma and others could turn out like the ones we read about in history books, still read about today and still see on TV. The ones who are so clearly on the wrong side of history.
And I never thought I'd get an answer to that question. But then I graduated into the middle of the worst recession in recent memory.
And I needed a job. So I looked at grandma.
You know what? If grandma can be a cop and be successful, maybe I can too. And could I have gone to the Charlotte Police Academy? I could have.
But my grandma cast a long shadow. And the last thing I needed was for some snitching instructor to call her up and let her know I could not do a single doggone push-up.
I ain't proud of it, but it is the truth. so that's how I ended up at the Washington, D.C.
Police Academy.

Along with 30 other recruits willing to do anything and everything we could to become officers in the nation's capital. But things were kind of weird when we got there.
everyone was always staring at us

watching us when we walked down the hallway

peering into the door when we got there. Everyone was always staring at us,

watching us when we walked down the hallway,

peering into the doorway of our classroom.

We could not figure out what was going on.

And one day, I'm sitting in the cafeteria next to one of my fellow recruits,

and he looks over at me.

Hey, man, I know why everybody's staring at us.

Yeah, they think there's a trans recruit in our class.

Wherever could they be?

I almost choked on my lunch.

Then ran to the bathroom, barricaded myself inside, reliving some of the

worst memories from high school, because the trans person they were looking for was me.

The call was coming from inside the house.

After a few deep breaths, I made my way back to the cafeteria. The same dude looks over at me.
I know who it is. Mm-hmm.
Talking with the hands and stuff. Putting them all on the hips.
Very feminine qualities. It's Everett.

My name is not Everett. But my secret was safe for just a little bit longer.
And I'd always planned on telling my class about the entirety of who I am, but I wanted them to get the chance to know me first. but apparently somebody way

high up in the police department thought it'd be a good idea to tell everybody and they mama that a trans recruit was going to be in the next class, and that if anybody messed with them, they were going to get fired. To a certain extent, I get it.

I was never going to be just another recruit.

But I was now going to have to out myself

a lot sooner than I intended to.

I was worried. I was afraid.

Particularly about this one cat named Winston. Winston smoked cigarettes and chewed tobacco at the same time.
Winston was the conservative oil to my liberal water.

Winston was going to be a problem.

But I was going to have to speak anyway.

So I stood in front of the class.

All right, y'all, look, look, listen.

The trans person everybody's looking for, it's me.

So why don't we just quit this weird game of gendered hide-and-seek and let it go?

And of course, it wasn't going to be that easy.

Because I was the first openly trans recruit through the Washington, D.C. Police Academy.

And I knew they were going to judge every recruit that came after me by the standard I set. Thank God my grandma had laid out the path all those decades before when she was a first.
Because I was going to have to walk the same tightrope to perfection that she had all those years ago. I would have to be excellent.

I had to be exceptional and I worked my ass off. Stayed up late into the night so I got A's on my exams.
Crushed myself in physical training just to prove I could do it. And over time, I could see the way my classmates and training instructors began seeing me as a person first.
My class even surprised me. They selected me to give the graduation speech in front of our family and friends, the assistant chiefs, and the chief of police.

And after that, beach in front of our family and friends, the assistant chiefs and the chief of police.

And after graduation, I got another surprise. It was Winston.
He walked up to me, held out his hand,

waited for me to take it and locked eyes with me the same way my grandmother had all those years ago. Pulled me close and he said, Hey man, you listen here.
If anybody messes with you, you let me know. And we're going to handle it.
I could not have been more shocked if I had been struck by a boat of lightning.

Because here was Winston, this man I had been seeing in nothing but hues of black and white,

reminding me to see the gray in him I so often demand that others see in me. And Winston showed me just a little piece of his heart, and I got it.
Because the heart of the officer matters. The badge don't do nothing but exacerbate the qualities of who we are at our core

That's part of the power of being a cop But it wasn't a power I really wanted After a few years, I resigned from the police department But not before making some changes the chief of police tasked me and a handful of other officers with rewriting the entirety of the Washington, D.C. Police Academy training program.
And I rewrote the hell out of that thing. Learning about unconscious bias and intersectionality.
Oh, they got that. Learning how not to be a homophobe,

a transphobe, or a misogynist. I wrote that down too.

Because one of the things that happens when officers get in trouble is courts pull their

training records. And one of the common refrains in defense was, I didn't know.
Nobody told me. I wasn't trained.
At the very least, they can't say that no more. And if they try, most of the officers I know will put that lie to rest.
Because the heart of the officer does matter. And I had seen their hearts.
And they had also seen mine. Thank you.
That was Morgan Givens. She's based in Washington, D.C., and is the creator, producer, and host of the critically acclaimed hope punk podcast Flyest Fables.
Morgan has been featured in the Washington Post, BuzzFeed, and on NPR's Invisibilia. He began telling stories on stage in the summer of 2015 and is so glad he did.
The woman who would eventually become his wife happened to be in the audience for his very first story on stage. Now that's the power of storytelling.
Do you have a story to tell us? Did you have to try to live up to your grandma's impossible standards? Call 877-799-MOTH. That's 877-799-6684.
The best pitches are developed for moth shows all around the world. There are moth events year-round.
Find a show near you and come out to tell a story and find us on social media. Just search for The Moth.

In a moment, a mother who loves her son so much, she's almost willing to break the law.

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You're listening to the Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jennifer Higson, and we're hearing stories about the pursuit of happiness.
Our final story was told at the Vic Theater, where we partner with public radio station WBEZ Chicago.

I want to note that this story makes mention of sex a few times, just in case that doesn't feel appropriate for you or whomever you're listening with. Here's Ruby Cooper.
After a year of him badgering me, I gave in.

Parked on a dark country road in my mom's 1959 Dodge

with a push-button transmission and a back seat as big as a double bed,

I had sex with my boyfriend. He was happy.
Me, not so much. I wasn't going to do it again.

What I didn't know is that I had gotten pregnant.

Yeah.

With twins.

It was 1960 and I was 16. Six and a half months later, I gave birth to two little boys.
Only one survived. But he spent the next three months in a preemie bin struggling to live alone while I watched him through a murky plate glass window because they never allowed me to touch him.
When I finally got him out of there, I thought, I'm never going to let this kid get away from me again. A few months later, when he was 10 months old, through a routine visit with the pediatrician, he said, this kid has cerebral palsy.
He'll never walk or probably won't talk. I don't know.
I'll give you, you're young, you can have more children. I'll give you the name of a place where you can take him where he'll be with others of his kind.
And I was stunned. I said, his kind? I'm his mom.
I'm his kind. He's going home with me.

And Kirk just grew.

He was a beautiful, beautiful baby

with these great big green, blue,

just hazel kind of almond-shaped eyes and possibly long eyelashes and a big smile. And he grew into this gregarious, confident kid that just everybody was attracted to.
On his first day of school, I think he was seven years old, and he was in a little wheelchair, and I pushed him down the hallway, and he goes, hi, I, Kirk. Hi, I, Kirk.
Like he was running for office. And he lost his first tooth.
And I said, oh, what will happen is that the fairy will, we'll put the tooth under the pillow and a fairy will come at night and exchange it for money.

And he looked at me like I was crazy.

And he said, no, mine bring pie.

Pie?

The tooth fairy doesn't have pie. The tooth-fish-fish-fish-fish-fish-fish-fish said, what kind of pie? And he said, chalk it.
And I thought And the following morning, the tooth fairy from the local bakery had delivered a chocolate pie. And Kirk loved to swim, loved the water.
And so I would put the little Mae West out thingy on him, the vest, and I would jam him into a tractor-trailer inner tube and tie a rope on it. Hey, I was a single mother, a teenage mother.
Think about that. I would drop him into any body of water, and he could could paddle around and I could pull him in with a rope.

Listen, nothing happened to him for God's sake. And so one time we were on a little lake in my friend's ski boat,

and he was watching the ski us. They're just two women and him, and girls, teenagers.

And finally he just had enough of it, and he said,

I want to ski.

And we looked at each other and said, why not? So we dropped him over the back of the boat, and Janie's driving, and she drove along real slow, and he's having a really good time and laughing, and then she revved it up. And he's just like, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom.
And we're just having a great time. We got back to the beach, and this, I don't know, big old punchy red-faced guy stomped over there to us and said, I saw you out there with that baby, just pulling it along.

You were endangered his life, and I should have the authorities come and take him away from you. And I said, fuck you.
We're just having fun. And Kirk said, yeah.

And you're no fun at all.

Well, Kirk grew into a young man.

When he was 22 years old, I moved him into a group home close by where we lived in California.

And he met a bunch, five, six guys that had different varying disabilities.

And they would spend their time just talking and hanging out, and most of the conversation was about girls and how to meet them and about sex. And I would come and visit, and they would have come up with these schemes for me to get involved in, and I said, no, no, not at all.
I am not, no. And I would leave and go home and forget about it.
And that year, about a couple of months before Christmas, I called Kirk and I said, hey, your sisters and I are wondering, Christmas is coming up, and we're wondering if there's anything special that you would like to have for Christmas. And he said, I want to have sex.
I said, sex? Sex is not a Christmas present. Videos and stinky cologne and sweaters and shit you don't need, that's Christmas.
Sex, I can't, it's illegal. I can't buy, I'll go to, I could go to jail.
You could get a disease. It's not a good idea, Kirk.
No. And when I finished ranting, I said, you know what? I don't even know where I would look for it.
I have no idea about this, Kirk. And he said, you could find it in the one so so I talked to my friends my friend Janie who was a bart, put a big pickle jar on the bar that said,

Get Kirk Sex Fund. I got to tell you, that jar filled with paper money so fast, you wouldn't believe it because that is a cause that men believe in.

I looked everywhere. I started, you know, I could have gotten picked up because I looked at all of the women, everybody at any bus stop, any, you know, trying, and I thought, no, no.
Nobody knew anybody. Nobody knew.
I didn't know how to do this and finally I remembered that my friend I had a friend named Bill he was a manager of the Onslow Hotel in Reno, Nevada yeah so I called him and told him what Kirk wanted for Christmas, and he said, hell yeah. Bring him up here.
He said, I'll take him to the Mustang Ranch. The Mustang Ranch, by the way, is the oldest brothel in the United States of America in Sparks, Nevada.
It is known for, you know, it's just a good run place from what I hear. And he said, as a matter of fact, bring the whole family.
I'll give you family rates at the hotel and we'll

have Christmas dinner at my place. I said, okay.
So I tell Kirk, he's excited. He can't stand it.
I said, now we've got to call my mother because my mother lived in Pennsylvania and spent Christmas holiday with us.

And she's a little

old-fashioned, kind of. And I didn't know how this would go over.
And so I said, Kirk, you tell her.

And so as soon as she answered the phone, he said, Grandma, you've got to come to Reno for Christmas. And she said, Oh, Reno.
Why, honey, are we going to Reno? And he said, Because I'm going to have sex, Grandma. And there was a silence, and I thought, should she faint? No.
But she didn't. She rallied.
She said, isn't that nice? How much does it cost? And I said, I don't know, Ma. They don't give quotes over the phone.
So she said, well, put me down for 50. To love my mother.
So on Christmas Eve day, FYI, the Mustang Ranchers closed on Christmas Day, in case you need to know. But on Christmas Eve Day, we were at the hotel.
His sisters got him all bathed and primped and powdered up like he was a bride. And we drove over to Bill's.
My mother goes into the kitchen to start the turkey and stuff. And Bill and Kirk go heading out to the Mustang Ranch.
In about an hour and a half, I don't know, I wasn't counting, but not too long. And I hear them outside coming up laughing.
And Kirk, when he left, his muscles were so tight and he was so nervous and full of anxiety and scared. And now when I open the door, he's just like laying in his wheelchair looking like Gumby.
With his big smile on his face. And I said, wow, back already? And he goes, she was real nervous.

And so I just laughed and gave him this great big hug. And I said, hey, guys, you know, everybody, I have a bottle of champagne.
I think we should have a Christmas toast

to the Christmas spirit,

to family, to friends,

to giving and receiving. Thank you.
That was Ruby Cooper. Ruby grew up in an Irish bar.
She's a mother, grandmother, activist, teacher, writer, comic, and has traveled to much of the world solo. Her book is titled Irish Mongrel Child.
She's currently working on a solo show called I Died Laughing. I gave Ruby a call to get an update on this story and life in general.
in talking with you about Kirk over all the years, I feel like I know him, you tried to make sure that he had all the experiences he possibly could. I tried to give him a regular life, as much as close to just a typical male life as I could.

I didn't baby him.

I didn't.

That wasn't part of it.

It was just he couldn't walk, but he could think and laugh

and have friends and everything else.

You helped Kirk in his pursuit of happiness,

and how did he help you in your pursuit of happiness, do you think?

He was funny. He made me laugh.

He was game for almost anything, as wacky as I was.

And you have to understand, I wasn't a shrinking violin by any strategy.

I mean, I liked adventure, and I liked to do things. AND I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A

I THINK THAT'S A I THINK THAT'S A I THINK to you afterwards and talking to you. And I wonder what they say.
Oh, they say, I wish you were my mother. Oh, men say that to me would say that to me a lot.
Other I've had people come up and cry. When we were the first time I ever told Was was at the cemetery, Greenview.
Yes, Greenwood,

Greenwood, yeah. Greenwood.
And this woman came up hugging me. And I guess her first cousin

had cerebral palsy. And she said his mother kept him cloistered in the house all the time.
He never

got to do anything. And she said, I just thought about him the whole time of what life

Thank you. His mother kept him coistered in the house all the time.
He never got to do anything. And she said, I just thought about him the whole time of what life could have been like for him.
Wow. So what advice would you have for anyone who's supporting someone who may be disabled? The disability is not who they are.
Who they are is inside. It doesn't, that's not, we take, we spend too much time worrying about what people look like and what they can do.
My mother said to me when I was crying, when I was told he would be quadriplegic and they wanted to put him in the home and I refused and I said I don't know what I'm going to do

I don't know when I was told he would be quadriplegic and they wanted to put him in the home, and I refused.

And I said, I don't know what I'm going to do.

I don't know what this will be like or anything.

And she said, you don't need to know what it is.

It's just you have a baby.

She said, we don't love him for what he will do or won't do.

We love him because he is ours.

Mic drop. That's beautiful.
Isn't it? Yeah. Your mom was cool.
Gosh. And what was your mother's relationship with Kirk like? Oh, God.
They were like, I don't know, the tongue in the shoe. You know, I mean, they were just so close.

I have a picture that makes me cry practically. I have it in a frame, but I don't have it where I see it all the time because it's too emotional.

She's old.

She's sitting at the edge of a pool, and she has had a couple surgeries, so she's a little on the crooked side.

He's crooked. He's in his, you know, she's got her arm around him and there they are.
They've been swimming. And now they're sitting together at the edge of the pool.
I have a picture of them. She, I guess he was on his beanbag or something, and she leaned down and kissed him,

and I got a real close-up picture of her just kissing him.

She loved him.

He loved her.

When he was dying, I said,

you know, all you have to do when you want to go is ask for a grandma. She'll come get you.
And he did. He said, Mama, I want my grandma.
That was Ruby Cooper talking about her son, Kirk. Kirk died when he was 42 years old, surrounded by his mom and sisters and the many people who loved him.
To see some pictures of Kirk and Ruby and Grandma, visit themoth.org where you can also download the story. I want to thank all the storytellers in this hour for their lessons on the noble pursuit of happiness.
That's it for this episode of the Moth Radio Hour.

I hope you're inspired to pursue your own brand of happiness.

We hope you'll join us next time, and Jennifer Hickson, who also hosted and directed the stories in the show. Co-producer is Vicki Merrick, associate producer Emily Couch.
The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes

Sarah Haberman, Christina Norman, Sarah Austin Janess, Kate Tellers, Marina Cluche, Leanne Gully, Suzanne Rust, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Patricia Ureña. Moth stories are true as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers.
Our theme music is by The Drift. Other music in this hour from Nigel Kennedy and the Croca Band,

Landsman Duets at

Blue Dot Sessions, Cannonball

Adderley Quintet, and Peter Bradley Adams. 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 to learn all about The Moth,