The Moth Radio Hour: The Big Reveal

about it.

Could you actually list out all your financial accounts and what they're worth?

Most of us can.

I know I can't.

Between old 401ks, random savings accounts, credit cards, and investments, it's easy to lose track.

And when you're not paying attention, that's when money slips through the cracks.

I, for one, am guilty of not paying as much attention as I should.

Knowing where my money is, where it's going, and how it's growing is important, but it can feel really overwhelming.

Thankfully, Monarch Money is here to help.

I signed up for an account and realized how much easier it is to have everything in one place, especially with great features like clear data visuals and smart categorization of my spending.

And it's not just for me.

I can choose to share my dashboard and goals with my partner and my financial advisor.

Centralization is key.

It takes minutes to set up, but the insight it gives you is huge.

Don't let financial opportunities slip through the cracks.

Use code Moth at monarchmoney.com in your browser for half off your first year.

That's 50% off your first year at monarchmoney.com with code MOTH.

Today's show is sponsored by Alma.

I know I'm not the only one who turns to the internet when I'm struggling.

It feels like there are so many answers from how to learn the ukulele to how to improve my mental health.

But what I've come to realize is that while I can use the internet to strum a stunted version of La Vian Rose, when it comes to taking care of my mind, there's no replacement for real human relationships.

But even finding a therapist can feel like an inevitable online black hole.

That's why I'm so happy to share that Alma makes it easy to connect with an experienced therapist, a real person who can listen, understand, and support you through your specific challenges.

You don't have to be stuck with the first available person.

Trust me, it's important to find someone you click with.

They can be nice, they can be smart, they can let you bring your chihuahua, true story, but they also have to be someone who really gets you uniquely.

When you browse Alma's online directory, you can filter by the qualities that matter to you, then book free 15-minute consultations with the therapists you're interested in seeing.

This way, you can find someone you connect with on a personal level and see real improvements in your mental health with their support.

Better with people, better with alma.

Visit helloalma.com/slash moth to get started and schedule a free consultation today.

That's hello A L M A dot com slash M O T H.

This is the Moth Radio Hour, and I'm Suzanne Rust.

In this hour, stories about big reveals.

We'll be hearing from a young girl who discovers both her fragility and her strength, a reluctant middle school thespian, and a woman with a rather curious hobby.

Sometimes it's good to start things at the ending.

In this case, someone else's ending.

Linda King told this story to Slam in New York City, where we partner with public radio station WNYC.

Here's Linda live at the moth.

Well, good evening all.

You know,

it may be hard for some of you to believe, but I love a good wake.

Funerals, not so much.

Too much standing and kneeling and moaning and mumbling, but a good wake.

You walk in, you sign the book at the back, you proceed to the front, you offer your sympathy to those on the first row,

you view the deceased for maybe 15 seconds or so,

turn around and proceed to the rear,

where you get to catch up with all the people you haven't seen since the last wake.

Now,

I was parked across the street from Macken's funeral home in Island Park.

Their lot did not have one single space available.

They're the kind of place that has two, maybe three rooms and they can have multiple bereavements at the same time.

I was here because my friend Hilda's husband had died.

Now notice I said died, not passed.

People die.

Kidney stones pass

if you're lucky.

Now I didn't know Hilda's husband.

I had never met him.

I wouldn't have known him had I tripped over him.

But

I knew her.

She was a friend.

And I think that the rituals of death are largely for the comfort of the living.

So anyhow, I walk into the lobby and there she sitting by herself.

I walked up to her and we spoke for a couple of minutes.

She said that the reason she was out there in the lobby was that his wake was so full of people, particularly his family, and it was getting very emotional and it was getting very warm in there, and she just needed some air to clear her mind a bit.

So, we chatted again, and she proceeded to move off down the center aisle to join her family mourners.

I,

in the meantime, wandered around the lobby picking up the flyers,

the business cards.

I was one time at a moratorium in Queens where they actually had postcards for you to pick up and send to somebody.

What do you write on a postcard from a moratorium?

So

I moved to the rear, also went into the room on the right, and signed the book,

moved slowly to the front, expressed my condolences to the folks on the first row, although I didn't know any of them,

and proceeded to view the deceased.

Now,

I'm a woman of a certain age,

retired, Some people might say settled, but they'd be wrong.

Hilda was maybe 10, 15 years my junior.

And this fellow lying in the casket was 20 years younger than her.

I thought to myself,

go on, girl.

Do your thing.

Do your thing.

So

as I'm standing there,

respectfully for my 10 or 15 seconds,

someone approaches me, and it's a man about my own age.

And he says to me, Mrs.

King, did you know him from the group?

And I said, Well, to tell the truth, I didn't know him at all.

I'm a friend of his wife, Hilda's.

The gentleman looked at me, sort of knit his brow, pursed his lips, and said,

Mrs.

King, my son was not married.

And

he looked at, he said, I think you're in the wrong room.

Well, he looked at me and I looked at him and we started to snicker.

Then it turned into giggles.

And before

it got to a raucous chuckle, I said to him, you know, I think I'd better move to the rear.

It doesn't look right right for the father of the deceased and some strange woman to be standing over the casket laughing.

So he thanked me for having made it a little, the situation a little lighter, and I did slide right to the back

across the hall to Hilda's husband's wake.

That was Linda King.

I confessed to Linda that I had some particular requests for my wake.

I'd like the mourners to exit dancing till Sylvester's disco hit Mighty Real, and I'd like spicy margaritas served at the reception.

So I asked her if she had any special requests.

She said, I never left the 70s, so I'd like to have some good old Motown playing in the background, and I'd like folks to enjoy themselves.

Maybe do the hokey-pokey.

I want to leave them laughing.

We are family.

I got all my sisters with me.

Simone de Beauvoir once wrote, one is not born, but rather becomes a woman.

That road can be beautiful, but it's often tricky to navigate.

The world isn't always the safest place for young women.

And the moment when we first realize that can be eye-opening and humbling.

Our next storyteller, Aisha Rodriguez, shared such a revelation at a moth education showcase in New York.

Here's Aisha.

At 12 years old, being a girl meant being one of the boys.

It meant hitting the course and hitting the books.

You can never catch me slacking.

And part of this meant having this big group of guy friends to protect me, even though I was a good foot taller than most of them, a better ball player than half of them.

But, you know, we really, we stayed together and they had my back.

And part of this was we thought we ran the streets, but we ran student council.

And we didn't really know nothing more than the school in the schoolyard but one day things changed and we wanted to expand the horizons go to another ballpark and you know part of this was going out later and farther and being the girl of my family was difficult in this sense because I was always home getting my work together you know keep it together because you're the youngest girl And I told my mom, like, oh, mommy, mommy, can I please go with Marison, then Lisa, Jessica?

And really, I was with Justin, Kevin, Jeremy and but somehow I got out and I was so happy and we're at this new park a couple blocks further than the last one and we're thinking like yo we run these streets man but it's starting to get later and later and I'm realizing like oh man I lied I'm gonna get in trouble my mom doesn't know where I'm at who I'm with like there was nothing worse than getting in trouble So I tell my friends, let's start heading home.

You know, it's late.

It's 9 p.m.

middle of the night.

And

because they're 12, too, they're like, yeah, Isha, let's go.

So, we're walking home.

And the way it works is that I live the farthest from the park.

And each avenue, a different friend lives.

So, we're dropping off one by one.

And it ends up me, Justin, and Kevin.

And I'm starting really to panic, like I'm lying.

I'm late.

I'm supposed to be home already.

I'm going to get in trouble.

I'm going to die.

Like, it's it.

And as I'm starting to have this panic attack, my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket.

And And I take it out and it says mom, who I should mention is my grandma.

And I call her mom.

And I pick up ready, like, oh, mommy, mommy, I'm on my way home.

And she stops me.

And she goes, Aisha, don't come home.

And the call drops.

And I'm really starting to think, man, the world is over as I know it.

And little did I know I was right.

So I take the phone back out.

And I die on my house.

And I'm ready with the same spiel.

And I tell her, like, mommy, mommy, I'm on my way home.

She stops me again and goes, Aisha, don't come home.

Someone got raped in the elevator.

And the call drops yet again.

And here, I'm starting to get real scared.

And I'm thinking, man, that could have been me if I was home on time, doing the right thing.

If I was there, that could have been me.

And my two friends look at me kind of worried and ask me what happened.

And when I tell them, they look at me like, that's what you're scared of?

And this was when I realized I'm the girl of the group.

Like, they can only protect me so much.

But they walk me home, and my grandma comes down to take over this protector role.

And she's ready.

She got her bata, chancletas ito.

And

she's also there.

Like, she's just ready.

And she holds something out, and it's a metal turkey baster.

And she goes, Aisha, protect yourself.

So I take it, not really sure what I'm supposed to do with that.

And we go to the deli, you know, the sus-a legal one that's always doing something something wrong but it's your fam so it's okay

and when we tell him what happens he also looks at me like man that could have been you he reaches down takes something out and he holds it out and it's a switchblade

and he tells me protect yourself so now I got a switchblade in one hand turkey based in the other

And I kind of just shoved both of them in my pockets like, yo, what's more sus than this?

And I'm still really panicking, like, man, I'm going gonna get in trouble.

There's cops everywhere, and I didn't want to run the streets like this.

But I go home, and I'm still thinking, like, this could have been me.

And I'm starting to realize there's a world bigger than just getting in trouble.

And fast forward, I'm in school, and I'm thinking I'm bad.

I'm telling my friends, like, yo, I got a switchblade, you know, like, I'm boss.

And my teacher starts to overhear, and she goes, Aisha, what was that?

And I tell her, like, oh, I have a switchblade.

And she gives me the same look, like, something's about to happen.

I'm scared.

I'm going to get in trouble.

I always do the right thing, but I get in trouble.

And she stops me and she goes, Aisha, if you ever have to, go for the eyes of the juggular.

And I'm thinking, damn, I can get my straw on my Capri son.

Like, how am I supposed to defend myself?

But after this moment, I started to realize being a girl meant taking that turkey base there, taking that switchblade, taking literally anything in front of you to protect yourself because the world won't do it for you.

Thank you.

That was Aisha Rodriguez, a college junior who lives in Harlem.

To see photos of Aisha and her mom, go to themoth.org.

Coming up after the break, Reluctant Thespians, when the moth radio hour continues.

The moth radio hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.

The moth is supported by AstraZeneca.

AstraZeneca is committed to spreading awareness of a condition called hereditary transthyroidin-mediated amyloidosis, or HATTR.

This condition can cause polyneuropathy, like nerve pain or numbness, heart failure or irregular rhythm, and gastrointestinal issues.

HATTR is often underdiagnosed and can be passed down to loved ones.

Many of us have stories about family legacies passed down through generations.

When I was five, my mother sewed me a classic clown costume, red and yellow with a pointy hat.

It's since been worn by my sister, three cousins, and and four of our children.

I'm so happy this piece of my childhood lives on with no end in sight.

Genetic conditions like HATTR shouldn't dominate our stories.

Thanks to the efforts of AstraZeneca, there are treatment options so more patients can choose the legacies they share.

This year, the Moth will partner with AstraZeneca to shine a light on the stories of those living with HATTR.

Learn more at www.myattrroadmap.com.

This summer, healthy habits could lead to big prizes during Symbiotica's summer giveaway.

It all starts with supplements that fit your lifestyle, making it easier than ever to stay consistent with your health goals.

Not sure where to start?

Try out this powerful antioxidant duo.

Symbiotica's liposomaglutathione and vitamin C packets support natural detox, brighten skin, and promote lasting energy.

It's a simple, convenient way to give your body the support it needs during those long, busy summer days.

And the exciting part is, right now, Symbiotica is hosting their biggest giveaway ever for 16 lucky winners.

You could drive off in a 2025 Rivian R1S, escape to a luxury wellness retreat for two, or win a year's worth of Symbiotica products.

Don't miss this amazing opportunity.

Go to symbiotica.com slash summer sweepstakes for your chance to win.

That's symbiotica.com slash summer sweepstakes to enter today.

The first few weeks of school are in the books.

Now it's time to keep that momentum going.

IXL helps kids stay confident and ahead of the curve.

Teachers move fast, but iXL keeps your child right on track, building skills at the same pace they're learning in school.

iXL is an award-winning online learning platform that helps kids truly understand what they're learning, whether they're brushing up on math or diving into social studies.

It covers math, language arts, science, and social studies from pre-K through 12th grade with content that's engaging, personalized, and yes, actually fun.

It's the perfect tool to keep learning going without making it feel like school.

If your child is struggling, this is the smartest investment you can make.

A single hour of tutoring costs more than a month of IXL.

Make an impact on your child's learning.

Get IXL now.

And listeners of this podcast can get an exclusive 20% off IXL membership when they sign up today at iXLlearning.com/slash audio.

Visit ixllearning.com/slash audio to get the most effective learning program out there at the best price.

You're listening to the Moth Radio Hour, and I'm Suzanne Rust.

In this hour, big reveals.

All the world's a stage, especially when you're in middle school.

Our next storyteller, Meredith Morrison, shared this story at an open mic slam in New York City, where we partner with public radio station WNYC.

Here's Meredith.

So, the day that I was born ended my sister's four-year one-woman show.

And unknown to to me at the time, it also began my very lengthy audition for the important role of supporting actress in her show.

The trouble was I was not what she envisioned for this very important role in her life.

She had tea parties.

I played tea ball.

She liked to arrive late.

to parties to you know have a grand entrance.

I liked to arrive early so that I could know where the exits and the bathrooms were at all times.

For Halloween, she was Cinderella.

I was the pumpkin.

And she very much was a performer and was comfortable on the stage and I preferred to be in the audience.

That was until one fateful day in eighth grade of all the grades, middle school, it's a time to really go out on a limb.

My two best friends, Megan and Kristen Hankins, the twins, they were in fact twins.

That wasn't like a weird thing.

I just called them.

Came over to my house and they rang the doorbell and I opened it and they're like,

we're trying out for the musical.

And I was like, that is great for you guys.

That sounds really awesome.

Like, I'll be there.

Let me know when it is.

And they're like, no, no, we are trying out for the musical.

The three of us.

And I was like,

no, that's not actually going to happen, but thank you for thinking of me.

And they kindly reminded me that I owed them one

because I

made them join the bowling team with me.

And so they were like, listen, as a fellow pinhead, you have to

commit to this.

And I was like, all right, I'll do you guys a solid.

Like, I'll be your third.

That way you can audition and get in and all that good stuff.

So we practice, we go to the audition, it happens.

You know, the next day at school, we're waiting for the list to be posted, whether or not we get called back for a larger part.

So we run to the list and we see all three of our names are on it.

And unfortunately, my overachieving self is like, well, I can't quit.

My name's on the thing.

I need to show up.

I have to do it.

So we go the next day to, no, I'm sorry.

First, I go and talk to my sister.

So I open the door to my sister's room.

And it's almost like she's set up like a...

in her own bedroom, like one of those where you have the lights, like she's backstage on Broadway.

It's just like her, it's already there.

And every time I entered, I feel like she's always like, yes.

And so I enter and, you know, I'm standing in the doorway waiting for her permission and her acknowledgement.

And I was like, Jen, like I got, I got a call back for the musical.

And she's like, really?

All right, you'll be fine.

Don't worry.

I'm sure they bring a lot of people back.

It's middle school, you know.

I was like, okay, thanks.

Appreciate it.

So I read over the script and I found this character.

It was the pajama game.

And so I found this character.

I was like, poopsie.

This is who I want to play.

She has 15 lines, like enough to be like a part of it.

So I might be memorable, but not enough where there's a large amount of responsibility.

So I was like, all right, I'm going for Poopsie.

She's my girl.

She's a good time.

That's what I'm going for.

So we go to the lead callbacks and they give me the script.

I'm like, we want you to read for Babe Williams.

And I was like, I know that role.

She has over 200 lines and she's a part of eight out of the 12 musical numbers, two of which are solos and I'm like this is my nightmare this is not who I want I read as babe

and then I go home again go into my sister's room and she's on her bed how did it go

and I was like Jen I don't know what to do they had me read for babe and she's like who is this babe

and

I said, well, she is the lead.

She's like, like the lead of the, I was like, yes.

And she's like, well, they just do that, Meredith.

Okay, Jen.

she's like though they'll have you read for these larger characters but you could end up getting cast for a smaller role it's fine relax you'll be I was like okay good I was like I want poopsy she's like I'm sure you'll be poopsy if you even

she's like it sounds like a perfect role for your first venture into this you know because she's a seasoned thespian at 14

So it is the fateful day where they're going to post that final cast list.

We all gather.

We're waiting for the director, who is the band teacher, to post the cast list on the auditorium doors.

And me, Megan, Chris, and the twins are eagerly waiting.

And the crowd sort of starts to part.

And I see people starting to like look at me, which was not normal.

I was kind of awkward.

Like, I like to blend in.

So I start obviously at the bottom of the cast list because that's me.

I'm like, poopsie, my girl.

She's down here.

And I see poopsie, Lauren Wilkinson.

I'm like, well, that's not me.

Who's this?

And I continue looking up the list.

And then I finally get to the very top, Babe Williams.

Next to it is Meredith Morrison.

And I start sobbing.

The band director thought I was so overwhelmed with just like how excited I was.

She comes over.

She's like, oh, you're babe.

How do you feel?

I was like, I didn't want the lead.

I just wanted poopsie.

And she's like, this is not the reaction I was thinking you were going to have.

And she's like, you know what?

Go home, think about it, and then come back tomorrow and let me know if this is something you really wanna do.

So I go, of course, to my sister's room.

I open the door, and she's like, she's waiting for me every single time.

She's like, so, was it posted?

And I said, it was.

And then I start crying.

And she's like, oh, you didn't make it.

You didn't get in.

I go, no, Jen.

I got the lead.

She's like, what?

The lead?

Babe?

And I was like, yes, I'm going to be playing babe.

And she was like, okay.

All right.

She's like, well, where's your script?

And I was like, Jen, I don't know if I want to do it.

And she was like,

think about it.

And I did.

And I looked at her.

I was like, you know what?

I don't want to do it, but I think I have to.

And so on opening night, I have my Britney Spears mic, I'm very excited about.

And the curtain opens, and I walk out to start the play.

And I look out into the audience and I see Jen, my toughest critic, sitting front row with a bouquet of flowers ready to congratulate me.

Thank you.

That was Meredith Morrison, an educator who lives in Maine with her girlfriend and their growing menagerie of cats.

The role of Bae was her first and last foray onto the middle school stage.

I asked her how her off, off, off-Broadway debut of Pajama Game went, and she said, about as well as you might think an eighth grade musical at peak puberty and middle school awkwardness could go.

Her sister Jen, on the other hand, went on to become an actress and casting director.

I was curious if getting the lead role made Meredith want to play less of a supporting role in real life.

Playing Bay Williams helped me to realize the importance of putting myself out there, which is something that I've spent the last decade or so hoping to instill in the students that I've had the honor of serving as either a teacher or their school principal.

Babe also provided me a glimpse into my sister's world and an opportunity to connect with her and understand her more through doing something that she loved so much.

To see photos of Meredith in the pajama game, go to themoth.org.

We like our women wise at the moth, and our next storyteller, Betty Reed Suskin, a 99-year-old phenomenon, more than fits that bill.

Betty's story takes place when she was a young wife and mother in California, and it was recorded at a live performance at Alice Telly Hall at Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts in New York City.

Here's Betty Reed Suskin.

Thank you very much.

The year was 1953,

and my young husband and I,

now by then,

were parents of three children, of two and one on the way.

We'd reached the place where we were about to make the decision of building a home.

Where we were going to locate that home had some problems.

Every Sunday afternoon, we would drive out to Mel's father's.

and parents place

that was out about 30 miles out from the San Francisco Bay Area into the suburbs where they had a little truck garden where they kept two horses.

The children would ride.

But we would pass through Saradap,

a small suburban area between two cities, Lafayette and Walnut Creek in California.

There

we found a lot.

There was an old concrete swimming pool in the middle of it.

I think it had been a recreation area at some point.

But there were

orchards.

There were oak trees.

It was bordered by a creek.

It was just exactly what we wanted,

except for the fact that we were African American

and we were contemplating building a home in the segregated white suburbs.

We did that.

We did it feeling that we were entitled to do this.

We got a white person

who was married to one of our friends to make the purchase.

A Quaker, Lusoul Smith, who was an architect who was willing to design our home.

And we proceeded to do that.

But being African Americans

in a restricted area, we were going to to be subject to death threats for five years.

During the period

of the construction, we had to make decisions.

We had an eight-year-old, a third grader,

who had to be enrolled in school.

Decision to enter Rick into school was made simply because

had we gone into the fall,

his education would have been interrupted in the local school where he was attending as a third grader.

But if he rode out with his father

every day

onto the site while the house was being constructed, we would drop him off into the lion's den of a school

where he would be the only black child.

We were the only family, the only family of color in the entire valley at the time.

We had no idea

that Rick would be subject,

the target

of those

dinner time conversations that were unmitigated bigotry in the presence of white children by their parents.

and that they would act out

that hatred on the school grounds against my child.

We wouldn't know that until much later.

We did make some friends, a couple of friends.

One was Marion Powellson, who had bought a lot

with her psychiatrist husband because we were there.

She was progressive.

And Bessie Gilbert, a Mormon, six foot tall, pioneer woman across the street.

These were our friends.

As the house was under construction, a strange thing began to happen.

I would be sitting in my car at the end of a day,

just about

dusk,

sitting in the car in the summer heat,

watching the streets, listening to the frogs, listening to the crickets, trying to get used to being in this area.

And each day, almost without question,

some neighbor would walk down the street, would stop at the car,

would say,

I am, and they'd get me their names.

I hope you'll be happy here.

At the same time, the Improvement Association was meeting, and we were getting vicious letters threatening to burn the lumber as fast as we could stack it to do the construction on the house.

It was a very, very strange thing because it seemed to me that what people could do collectively,

few could do individually,

because almost every one of those neighbors stopped by at some point.

One day, Marion Powelson, who had been to Sam's Market down by the creek,

came home, pounded on my door,

irate.

She was holding a poster in her hand announcing a minstrel show at the school.

A minstrel show, if any of you can remember or are aware, was a form of entertainment that took place during Reconstruction.

It was always white folks

pretending to be black folks.

And they were always created in ridicule of African Americans, the people of color.

But this minstrel show

was being put on by the PTA as a fundraiser at the school that my child was a single black student.

Marion,

in fury,

said, you must do something.

I hadn't a clue

of how to confront this.

I lived with it for about 24 hours.

I didn't know how to explain it to my children.

It was something

that was alien to my lifetime.

I had grown up in California.

On the day before that minstrel show was to be held,

one day after Marion's announcement,

I got into my car, drove to the school, not having a clue as to what I was going to say.

My breath was being

gasped out.

The The lump in my throat threatened to

smother me.

And as I neared the school, panic set in.

But I got out, parked my car,

walked into the principal's office down the hall.

He was

present.

He was out on the playground, I suppose.

But his costume was hanging over the doorway.

Big blousy black pants, a white shirt, shirt,

I suppose it was a bandana tie with red polka dots, a kinky wig

was on his desk.

I sat and wondered what I would say,

and suddenly

there he was coming down the hallway.

And as he caught sight of me,

he turned on his heel to walk away.

And to his credit, he turned back after about five feet.

And he came into the office, he proceeded.

And then the words began to flow.

And I said,

you know, this is wrong.

And there was a pause, and then he said,

but not until I saw you there.

But I don't know why.

It was very clear that he really didn't know why.

Then he said,

you know, Mrs.

Reed,

we love colored people.

In fact,

we are only showing how happy-go-lucky they are.

And I said, but do I look happy-go-lucky?

happy-go-lucky?

And he said, no.

And I could see the pain in his face.

And suddenly the words began to flow.

And I said,

you cannot do this because as educators,

as educators, you have no right.

But I'll tell you what.

It's too late now.

Your show is only 24 hours away.

And I will insist that tonight at your dress rehearsal

you explain my visit to your staff.

Tell them

what I've told you.

And I said, and I will be in the audience tomorrow evening.

I went home.

Next day,

Bessie Gilbert and I went over

early,

sat front row setter,

and made them perform the entire ugly show in our presence with tears streaming.

It was a miserable evening.

I'm not sure what we accomplished.

I've never known.

But I do know

that that was when I came into my being

as a resident of that community.

And I don't know what we accomplished because within a week

at Sam's Market, there was a poster announcing the Aunt Jemima pancake feed coming up within three weeks.

Thank you very much.

That was the one and only Betty Reed-Susskin.

Betty lives in Richmond, California.

You may have noticed that Betty tells us that a white friend had to handle the transaction for the purchase of her home.

Betty's story takes place in the mid-1950s.

Prior to the California Fair Housing Act of 1966 and the Federal Fair Housing Act, those were laws which prohibited discrimination in the sale, rental, and financing of housing.

Before that, all bets were off.

Betty says that even after over six decades, she is still dealing with the traumatic effects from the years of death threats that her family received for choosing to live in their dream home.

While on-stage minstrel shows basically died out somewhere in the 1920s, Blackface lived on in the movies and beyond.

Regrettably, to the present day where whites and blackface still resurface.

I checked in with Betty via email.

She told me that she had a stroke last year and that since then she's just trying to live life one day at a time.

But that life has been very rich.

Betty became a park ranger in Richmond at the age of 85, making her the oldest active ranger with the National Park Service.

Prior to that, Detroit-born Betty has been a songwriter, an author, and a civil rights activist.

Betty's great-grandmother was born into slavery in 1846.

Betty actually knew her and at one time Betty, her mother, her grandmother and her great-grandmother all lived together under one roof.

Four generations of powerful women.

When Betty was a guest at the Obama White House, she held her photo of her great-great-grandmother tucked into her breast pocket.

To see photos of Betty, her family, and their California home, go to themoth.org.

Coming up next, spinning wheels and busting moves when the Moth Radio Hour continues.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.

Ready to level up?

Chumba Casino is your playbook to fun.

It's free to play with no purchase necessary.

Enjoy hundreds of online social games like Blackjack, Slots, and Solitaire anytime, anywhere, with fresh releases every week, whether you're at home or on the go.

Let Chumba Casino bring the excitement to you.

Plus, get free daily login bonuses and a free welcome bonus.

Join now for your chance to redeem some serious prizes.

Play Chumba Casino today.

No purchase necessary, VGW Group, Voidboard Prohibited by Law 21 Plus.

TNCs apply.

Mike and Alyssa are always trying to outdo each other.

When Alyssa got a small water bottle, Mike showed up with a four-litre junk.

When Mike started gardening, Alyssa started beekeeping.

Oh, come on.

They called a truce for their holiday and used Expedia Trip Planner to collaborate on all the details of their trip.

Once there, Mike still did more laps around the pool.

Whatever.

You were made to outdo your holidays.

We were made to help organize the competition.

Expedia, made to travel.

Tito's handmade vodka is America's favorite vodka for a reason.

From the first legal distillery in Texas, Tito's is six times distilled till it's just right and naturally gluten-free, making it a high-quality spirit that mixes with just about anything.

From the smoothest martinis to the best Bloody Marys, Tito's is known for giving back, teaming up with nonprofits to serve its communities and do good for dogs.

Make your next cocktail with Tito's, distilled and bottled by Fifth Generation Inc., Austin, Texas, 40% alcohol by volume, savor responsibly.

This is the Moth Radio Hour, and I'm Suzanne Rust.

In this episode, we're featuring stories about big reveals, those moments with an element of surprise.

Jason Nunez told this next story at a Moth High School showcase in Brooklyn.

Here's Jason.

All right.

All right, all right, all right.

Yeah.

Okay.

So it was two weeks before my birthday, birthday, and I'm sitting in my room thinking of what I wanted as a gift.

And this wasn't going to be no ordinary gift because I was turning seven.

And you know, turning seven is a really big deal for me because seven is basically 10.

10 is basically a teenager.

Teenager is basically an adult.

So, you know, like adults do, I wanted to get that one expensive present that was going to last me a long time.

Not like a toy set that I would play with for two months and then next thing you know, it's collecting dust in my closet.

So I go up to my parents and I'm like, hey, can we go to Toys R Us?

So the next day we go to Toys R Us and you know they're showing me all these toys.

It's like these jigsaw puzzles, action figures and

like everything and nothing was really catching my eye.

So you know I kind of wandered away.

And when I wandered away I found myself in the bike aisle and it was just like immediate.

I look up at least 20, 30 feet and I see the beautiful bumblebee yellow hummer bike with matte black tire seat and handlebars.

And it was like those scenes in the movies where it's like you in that one thing in a dark room and a light shining on it, you know, kind of like right now.

And like my feet were gravitating towards it, but my legs weren't moving.

And there was even like this angelic music in the background.

Like all I heard was, ooh!

And I've had my sister's bike.

I've had my brother's bike.

I've even had my dad's bike, which is like falling to bits and pieces at this point.

So I run straight to my parents and I'm like, hey, hey, hey, like, this is the bike that I want.

And I show them, I'm like pointing straight up.

And then they're looking up, looking at me, looking at each other, look back up.

And they're like, yeah, we'll think about it.

And I was like, I'm just telling them, like, this has to be it.

Even though I knew it was expensive because it was on the high, high shelf.

And like, it was one of those bikes you had to like contact the front desk for.

So, um, yeah, they're like, sure, we'll think about it.

Um, and I go home, and finally, my birthday comes.

And on my birthday, unfortunately, um, it was on a Monday.

Uh, so I had to go to school.

So, I went to school, came back home, and we're doing all the normal birthday things.

Like they're singing happy birthday.

Like I'm opening gifts from my brother and my sister.

And then we eat dinner.

And then my dad finally comes up to me and he's like, hey, we have a surprise for you.

And I'm like, a surprise?

For me?

Like, what's the occasion?

And, you know, he nods off my sarcasm.

He's like, he brings me to the backyard.

And the funny thing about our backyard is we have this like really heavy metal door and it has like five locks on it.

So he's like unlocking the top lock and the middle middle lock, and the other middle lock.

And then he finally swings the huge door open, and there it is.

The beautiful bumblebee yellow hummer bike with matte, black, tire, seat, and handlebars.

And I was in complete awe, like, I'm going straight to the bike.

I'm like adjusting the seat for when I was gonna ride it.

I was touching the tires, making sure there's enough air, adjusting the gears, and I was just you know, feeling all over the frame.

And I literally picked up the bike and I was about to leave.

And my dad looks at me, he's like, Where are you going?

And I'm like, going to bike ride.

And he's like, No, it's like 8 p.m.

You're seven years old.

Not going to happen.

And, you know, I was crushed.

But of course, I could wait.

And I did wait.

So the next day is Tuesday.

The day after that's Wednesday and Thursday.

And each single day, I'm like opening the curtains to our backyard and I'm looking at that bike and I'm like, oh, coming Friday, me and you are going to have a really good experience.

Like, we're going to go everywhere.

I was planning on like going on the highway.

I was going to go to Central Park.

I was going to, you know, do everything.

And the reason I kind of thought about that was because in my neighborhood, Washington Heights,

it's really common for a lot of kids to bike around in like a group and they would do wheelies and all kinds of tricks.

And I wanted to be one of those kids.

I thought that was so cool.

But of course I was seven and I definitely didn't know how to do any wheelies.

But that's why I wanted to ride the bike so much.

And you know Friday finally came and I had to go to school and I came home like a man on a mission.

And I threw my bags down and I went straight to the backyard, top lock, middle lock, other middle lock.

Swing the door open.

And when I swing the door open, it wasn't there.

And I was really confused.

I was like, well, what's going on?

Like, what kind of joke is this?

And I look around for a little bit and then I go to my dad and I'm like, so where's the bike?

And he's like, it should be out there.

It's been there all week.

And when he said that, I was like, It's not there right now.

Like, we should go look for it.

And, you know, my mom and dad are really well known in the neighborhood.

so they asked around and they talked to people and um

they were seeing if like anybody knew or had seen the bike and we even like hop in our car and we're driving around for like two hours and like so you know two weeks pass and it was really starting to settle that like my bike was going to be gone forever and it it hurt me but it really brought me back to a time when my dad had first teached uh had first taught first taught me how to ride a bike.

I was around four or five years old and he took me to the park on a summer evening and he was pushing me along for a little bit and then he finally decides to let go.

Of course I didn't notice and I'm pedaling for a little bit and then he says like from a distance from a distance, he's like, you're doing it.

Like this is you.

Like you're doing it by yourself.

And I look down and I'm like, oh this is so much better than walking.

Like I'm going so fast.

And then, you know, I proceed to like face plant and everything, like cuts on my knees and stuff.

And my dad's really big on metaphors.

So he's like, you know what just happened?

You just fell.

And life is going to do that to you a lot.

So no matter how many times life knocks you down, you gotta just get right back up.

And that's what I did.

A couple days later, I called up a couple of my friends, grabbed one of my hand-me-down bikes, and we went bike riding together.

We went throughout the city.

I didn't pop any wheelies because I still don't have that kind of skill.

Fast forward to about two years ago, I actually ended up getting my own bike, which my dad bought me.

It's not yellow, it's black,

it's electric, and it does the job.

And

I still fall off that bike, but I get right back up.

Thank you.

That was Jason Nunez.

And no, he never saw his beloved birthday bike again.

Jason is currently a student at Ithaca College.

He loves playing basketball and yes, riding his bike.

And he has finally mastered the art of hands-free biking.

Our final story takes place in Mumbai, but it was told at a moth grand slam in Chicago, where we partner with public radio station WBEZ.

Here's Jatesh Jaggi live at the moth.

The first time my mother saw me break dancing, she almost threw up.

To make it less humiliating, I will narrate this incident in reverse.

My mother runs into my room.

There's a left foot-shaped hole in my glass window.

My body is upside down.

I say to myself, this should be easy.

I watch a hip-hop dance video.

She did not see a pretty sight.

This was in 2009 in India where there was no break dancing.

This modern American art was practiced there by puberty hit early adopters of internet.

I remember remember staying up late in the night to chat with dancers in America to learn some techniques.

Then back to practicing in my living room amidst a small audience of broken furniture and a horrified mother.

This soon led me to connect with other eccentric losers in my city.

And together

We started making a fool of ourselves in full public view,

contorting our bodies and suffering juvenile bald patches from head spins.

True to tradition, we would practice on the sidewalks, startling morning joggers with James Brown screaming, get up off of that thing,

on the boombox.

But I lacked the deep cultural understanding that American breakdancers had.

I wanted to swim, and all that was given to me was a petri dish.

A friend suggested that the best way to learn something new is to teach it to someone else.

So I landed volunteer work at this obscure little village called Banganwadi.

The little village was Mumbai's largest dumping ground.

I did not expect to even smile for the rest of the day, but 30 children were waiting eagerly to impress their new dance instructor.

In the class there was laughter and tumbling and flip-flops flying across the room.

It was like I was witnessing the world congealing.

Here are kids from the streets of Mumbai emulating kids from the streets of Brooklyn.

They would tilt their hats to the side and ask me if they were hip-hop enough.

And I told them, you have more street cred than my middle class ass could ever dream of achieving.

I stayed on and after two years decided to organize a dance show, choreographed on a nice rap song.

And a week before the show, 12-year-old Sameer came up to me and said, teacher,

we are memorizing the dance sequence

not on the words of the song, but the sound of the words.

And I thought, of course you are.

See, the kids understood some English, but rap was too much for them.

They couldn't distinguish one word from another.

And then he made a suggestion that blew me away.

He said, how about we break dance

on a Bollywood song?

The purest in me said, no,

that is disrespectful.

But the pragmatic choreographer in me who had six days left for the show said, What didn't I think of that?

We changed everything.

And that was the most under-pressure fun we have ever had.

Day of the performance.

The audience has no clue that what they're about to witness has simply never existed before.

Breakdance on Bollywood music, also in Bollywood costumes.

The crowd was stunned.

They whistled and clapped and sang along.

In the audience, I thought to myself,

this is either blasphemy or the genius of children.

They

took what was given to men to them and instead of adapting to the art

we made the art adapt to our existing lifestyle.

And in doing so, made it our own.

This is what was missing in my own practice.

And the kids put it neatly in perspective for me.

From then on, we had regular practices on the Bollywood songs.

We wore whatever we were comfortable in.

Today, here in America, when I see kids' breakdowns, I I think of the connection that they have with children across the world in the slums of Mumbai

and invisible solidarity through street art.

Thank you.

Jitesh Jaggi is a recent immigrant from India and a two-time Morth Story Slam winner.

He currently resides in Chicago.

Jitesh ended his career in finance one day when he lost all the data that he'd forgot to save on an Excel sheet and realized that he just didn't care.

That tipping point led him to becoming a writer and he is currently working on a book of essays.

Jitesh can still do most of his moves but confesses that he has grown a little rusty.

He says that his house has creaky wood floors so there's always the chance of his downstairs neighbors thinking that there are six kids wrestling upstairs even though it's just him breakdancing by himself.

To see photos of Jitesh breakdancing, go to themoth.org.

That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour.

We hope you'll join us next time.

Your host this hour was Suzanne Rust, the Moth's senior curatorial producer.

Mick Bowles directed the stories in the show with additional coaching from Vera Carruthers, Katherine McCarthy, Lauren Gonzalez, and Michelle Jolowski.

The rest of the Moth's directorial staff includes Catherine Burns, Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Janess, and Jennifer Hickson.

Production support from Emily Couch.

Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers.

Our theme music is By the Drift.

Other music in this hour from Sister Sledge, Julian Lodge, Blue Dot Sessions, Keith Jarrett, and Punjabi MC.

You can find links to all the music we use at our website.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by me, Jay Allison, with Vicki Merrick at Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.

This hour was produced with funds from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Special thanks to our friends at Odyssey, including executive producers Jenna Weiss-Berman and Leah Rhys-Dennis.

For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us, your own story, and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.