The Moth Podcast: The Gift of Story

AutoTrader is powered by Auto Intelligence.

Their tools and data sync with your exact budget and preferences to tailor the entire car shopping experience to you.

Want a pink mid-size SUV with 22-inch rims and a V8?

How about a two-door convertible with a premium sound system and heated cup holders?

Nothing's too specific.

AutoTrader powered by Auto Intelligence helps you find your dream car at the right price in no time because they do all the hard work for you.

Imagine going from no clue to new car in no time.

Learning that fully loaded fits the budget.

Finding the car that gives you the feels as much as the deals.

Want your car delivered the same way as your lunch order?

Yeah, that's a thing.

With AutoTrader powered by auto intelligence, you're in control from your first search to the moment you sign on the dotted line.

It's the totally you way to buy a car.

Visit auto trader.com to find your perfect ride.

Think about it.

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

Most of us can't.

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.

Hey, Moth listeners, it's Leanne.

I'm really excited for you to hear today's episode.

But in the meantime, I want you to know that we're in the midst of our year-end fundraising campaign.

The Moth is an independent nonprofit, and your support is what keeps our stories alive.

Here's the thing: donations to public radio and podcast subscriptions are important.

But in order to keep our engine running, we're asking you to make a donation directly to the Moth today.

Every dollar helps bring you amazing stories from around the world, like the one you'll hear in today's episode.

So, if you've been moved by the stories you've heard this year, please make a donation.

Visit themoth.org or textGive24 with no space in between to 78679.

Once again, that's themoth.org or textGive24 with no space in between to 78679.

Thanks for listening.

Welcome to the Moth Podcast.

I'm Jody Powell, your host for this episode and one of the directors at The Moth.

Every personal story shared reveals the threads that connect us all.

It reminds us we're not alone.

Finding, developing and sharing personal stories on moth stages around the world, on our podcasts and on our moth radio hour is a collaborative effort between our storytellers and staff made possible through the effort of our donors, audience members and listeners like you.

You make small personal moments come to life and mean so much to so many.

At the Moth, we have this really special opportunity to connect to storytellers from all around the world via our open mic story slams or pitchline or workshop programs and the moth pop-up porch or mobile listening hub.

But today, we're doing something a little different.

We're taking you behind the scenes of the main stage series.

We want to show you how it all comes together.

When at its best, Main stage storytelling, what you hear on air and see on stage might appear effortless.

These are incredible storytellers to begin with, but each person also works with a director, like me, one-on-one to craft and shape their stories, sharpening the artistry of moth-style storytelling.

It takes anywhere from five hours to two years for a moth director to help a storyteller shape their story for the main stage.

It starts with, tell me what happened, and then, okay, now put me there with you, like it's a film and we're standing there together.

What are the sensory memories that you remember?

What did you hear?

What did you see?

What were you thinking at the time?

These personal stories are fingerprints.

Think, why can I only tell this story?

Usually the first draft is way too long and many times it's too distant, not emotional.

So we like to think that our work is to find the heartbeat in the story, to find the emotional arc with the storyteller bringing you right along for every step.

There's the plot of the story, this happened, then this happened, but then there's what is the story really about?

And on stage, these stories are like virtual reality for the audience listening.

We want the storyteller to be heard uninterrupted, and we want them to transport the audience to feel what they were feeling.

We find that that's what builds connection.

Here's a storyteller with Sarah Austin Janesse, who is also director backstage in New York City.

Okay, so what is your name and where are we?

What are you here to do?

My name is Crystal Finn.

I'm about to go on and tell a story for the first time.

How did you find the moth?

I called the pitch line.

I heard back from Jodi, who was amazing, and we talked on the phone and we were like, let's do this.

My story is sort of a discrete story that happens over a single period of time and then reverberates.

But some of these stories are really large life stories.

And to find the form to put that into

10, 12 minutes is really hard.

And I think people probably listening don't, you know, aren't thinking about that when they're listening to it.

But just the weight and the expansiveness of some of the

events contained in this tight package, I think is part of what makes like a moth story so

taut and exciting.

We bring mainstage storytellers together the night before the show.

We run the stories all together one last time and the directors and moth staff give final notes.

And we give a lot of love and encouragement too.

My name is Mathilda Mataba.

We are in New York.

I know you've just flown in from Malawi.

Lilongwe, the capital city of Malawi.

And how do you know the moth?

I once attended the workshop in Naivasha around 2018 or 2019, thereabout.

That was the first time someone gave me a link to apply and tell my story and I did.

What was the rehearsal like last night at the moth office?

I had some emotions hearing the stories, but it was good for me because now I look at life in a different angle.

Sometimes you meet people, you don't know what they are going through, the life they are living, and sometimes we tend to judge people based on the outward look, but they have a different feeling in their hearts.

I would like to encourage each one of us out there, if you are listening to this be part of the moth tell your story let the world hear your story thank you

thanks to the support of listeners and moth donors like you we're able to find storytellers everywhere In 2022, I was lucky enough to be a part of our pop-up porch, a custom-built tiny home designed to tour the country and provide a welcoming space for communities to gather, share stories, and build understanding, reflecting our commitment to going where the stories are.

And when the pop-up porch rolled up in Jackson, Mississippi, in walked Pastor Herbert Broome.

I called Pastor Broome to talk about that recently.

Just wondering if you remember that great morning that we met off of the pop-up porch and you coming down and sitting down with me.

Absolutely.

That morning, I decided since I had retired, let me do something with my date.

So that was an announcement that Moth was having a portable porch.

Now, growing up in the country, I know what a porch looked like, but I never dreamed or imagined what a portable porch would be.

I saw how y'all had set the

sort of picnic tables and umbrellas out there.

It was so pleasant.

And we just got hitting off with great conversations.

And all of a sudden,

this story developed.

But I was amazed that my story impressed you all so much until

you invited me to go on some tours and being from the south and being old country boy

some of the old places I've never been and I wouldn't have probably gone without the moth coming and bringing me that invitation so it was great is there any practice that you have that you know a few seconds before or when you're in the green room that you practice or run over in your head that you do right before you go to the stage first and foremost and most important thing is to first pray and i'm talking about pray hard lord don't let the butterflies get in my way lord don't let me forget my line

and so with that here's pastor broome live at the moth at the wilbur theater in boston

This is a pastor's dream to see so many people out here in the audience while I stand before you.

But I promise you, I'm not going to preach tonight.

But can I get an amen?

February 2020.

The Mississippi Civil Rights Museum in Jackson, Mississippi had opened door in celebration of Dr.

Martin Luther King's birthday.

I had just retired, so I'm like, I got time on my hand.

Let me go and experience some of my past.

As I walked into the main lobby, I was really amazingly pleased to see so many people there.

Matter of fact, it was a lot of people older than I am.

And they were sharing their stories with their grandchildren, their great-grandchildren, when all of a sudden, I heard a familiar sound.

It's the same song we sang at our church, St.

James Bethel Missionary Baptist Church, in Tulu community every Sunday.

The song is this little lighter man.

As I turned to find out where it was coming from, I was really shocked because it was coming from the Jimmy and Sarah Boxdale Expo.

Now, what made it shocking was I had just retired from being an automotive sales consultant.

From Jimmy Boxdale, he owned the Cadillac dealership in Jackson.

I never thought that he was involved in civil rights.

So, naturally, my curiosity, I went into and explored the exhibit.

I found a map of the state of Mississippi, and if you know Mississippi looked like a red big nose.

The map had indication of those counties that had voter registration.

So as I looked at Wilkerson County, which is the tip of the nose, there was no map.

Now I knew that there was voter registration going on in that county.

because I am a living witness,

an eyewitness, an EYE witness that voter registration occurred.

Both of my parents taught school there.

My dad was industrial art, he taught algebra, and he also was a football coach.

My mom, she taught English, Mississippi history, and home economics, which other words mean I know what fork and knife to use to cut a state.

Let's go back 61 years,

1963.

I had just turned 10 years old.

That afternoon, two cars pulled up in our yard, a sedan and a station wagon.

The men in the sedan got out the car, they walked to the door, and I heard a peculiar knock.

My dad opened the door, and these men came in.

They were so tall, they had to kind of bend down and go up under the doorpost.

As a matter of fact, they could have played for the Boston Celtic on this championship team.

They literally walked in each one of those rooms and they made sure they looked in the bedroom, they looked in the closet, they looked everywhere.

Matter of fact, one of the tall men made one step on the ladder and he could shine in the attic.

They were making sure that the only people that was at that house was the Broome family.

The other two men went around the house and because our house was placed on center blocks, they shined the flashlight all up under the house, making sure there was no bomb there.

When the thumbs came up,

the door of the station wagon opened up.

This man walked to the house.

My dad was so excited to see him.

They did a manly hug and a handshake.

And my dad introduced my family.

He said, this is my wife, Hurley.

She shook shook his hand.

He said, this is my daughter, Hertha Janice.

Now, she's five years old.

He reached down and he shook her hand.

Then he introduced me, saying, this is my son, Herbert James.

When I reached up to shake this man's hand, I was shaking the hand of Megha Wally Evers.

He was the Secretary.

of the state of Mississippi NAACP meeting.

My parents and Mr.

Evers immediately sit down at the table.

Now back in 1963, children weren't allowed to just hang around and see what grown folks were talking about.

So my sister and I, we went back in the bedroom and we looked out of the window to see these big tall men with these long guns and side piece around our pecan tree.

They was actually security guards making sure we were safe.

That next morning, I was woken by the smell of breakfast.

My mother had fixed everything that you want to imagine because my dad's friend, who by the way, attended Alcorn State University together, located in Larma, Mississippi.

So they were old classmates, but they had stayed up all night long

talking.

My mom had

grits, eggs, bacon, toast, even dad's favorite biscuits along with syrup, coffee, and milk.

We all had a wonderful time.

After they left a few days later, they had the first NAACP meeting in Wilkinson County.

It was held at the local Methodist Church.

Now, the meeting started at 7 o'clock, but here it was 7.20.

and we were still at home.

My mother, bless her heart, was just so slow.

She used to frustrate my dad because she was always slow.

When we finally got there about 7.30,

the parking lot was full of cars and trucks.

As a matter of fact, there was bicycles leaning on the side of the church.

Now in 63, they didn't have central air.

So the windows of the church was open.

The ladies that was in there, they had their little fan along with their padded leather purses.

They were trying to stay comfortable.

I don't recall everything that was said that night, but I do remember there was two songs that we sung.

The first song was, I'm not going to let nobody turn me around.

The guest speaker, he got up and he started talking about how important it was to be registered voters and that we didn't have to

count beans in a jar.

You didn't have to pay poll taxes.

The only thing that was required was that that you was a citizen of the United States and you go down and you register to vote.

Road trip.

My dad got all of us together and we stopped by the St.

Clair service station.

Now,

my dad pulled up and his first thing he said was, ooh, wee, this gas is so high.

When I looked out the window, 17.9 cent a gallon for premium gas.

After we filled the car up, the next stop we made was at the Gulf Service Station.

Of course, in 1963, black people couldn't go into the restaurant and order their food.

We had to go by the kitchen dough on the side, which was okay with us because the main cook was Miss Parley Lacey, my best friend's mom.

And Miss Lacey put our hamburgers in separate bags.

When I opened up my bag, that had a big piece of meat, it had lettuce, tomatoes, onion, pickle, and even the grill was toasted to a nice crunch.

The buns was excellent.

We drove 100 miles one way to Jackson, Mississippi.

They drove downtown on Capitol Street and they pulled in front of the federal post office.

They was mailing a letter to Washington, D.C.

Of course, what I observed was they put that letter inside another letter that was addressed to my aunt in Chicago.

Because in 63,

if you mail a letter in Wilkinson County talking about going to Washington, D.C.,

I promise you that letter would have never left the county.

June

the 12th, 1963.

My dad friend,

after attending an NAACP meeting in Jackson, Mississippi, pulled up to his house only to be shot in the back.

His wife rushed him to the emergency room at the local hospital, only to be rejected and turned down because the hospital was segregated.

He died right there on the spot.

We got the news while my parents and us, we only had one TV in the whole house, and we all was watching dad's favorite show.

When all of a sudden the new flash came on announcing that Megha Wally Edwards was dead.

That was the only time I saw my strong dad break down and cry.

As a matter of fact, we all cried that night.

But it was too late to run and hide.

As a matter of fact, instead of burning

the stores down and looting the stores, they

put on one of the most

vicious boycott in that county.

No black people even spent one red cent in the white stores.

A few days later,

people came to our house wearing their dark suits.

These were men from Washington, D.C.,

who presented my mom a letter.

The letter that she sent to Washington, D.C.

was a request for a grant to put on voter registration drive in that county, and it was approved.

That next day,

thank you.

That next day,

it was voter registration day.

And I stand before you, and I promise you, that was the only time that I can remember my mom being on time.

As a matter of fact, she was blowing the horn talking about, come on, James, we're going to be late.

She sent my sister across the street to Mr.

Johnson's house because, remember, she was only five years old.

So I rode downtown with my parents.

They got out the car and they went in the courthouse.

Dad passed me the keys to his 57 Chevy.

He said, son, I want you to go and get somebody else and bring them down to vote.

My dad could trust me driving his car at 10.

Because he taught me how to drive at six years old.

As a matter of fact, at seven years old, I had my own keys to my own transportation.

I could literally drive downtown Woodville, Mississippi, wave at the police,

tip my hat to the sheriff,

and they didn't pull me over.

Now you all might think it was that 57 Chevy, but no, it was that little 435 tractor on my way to the sweet potato field.

Because my dad was also a farmer.

As I went back to our neighborhood called Cabers Bottoms, I drove past Mr.

Monroe house.

And instead of turning to the right, I decided to go straight.

When I got to the end of that drive, it was a dead-end street.

When I turned around, there sit on that porch was Mr.

Sidney and his wife, the Millies.

So I asked Mr.

Sidney Miller

when I got out the car, naturally, you know, I spoke.

And he said, and I said, are you all registered voters with some excitement?

He looked at me with a deep voice, no, son, we too old to vote.

I'm like, I know he was served in the Army, and he's a well-dressed person.

So in my mind, I just immediately said this.

Well, Mr.

and Mrs.

Millie, will you all register to vote so one day I can vote

Miss Millie didn't say a word she got up she went in the house now I'm thinking oh is she going to get that old pump shotgun

because they did say they were too old to vote instead miss Millie came out she had her little pattern level purse and ladies you know those shoes you used to wear out Now you make house shoes out of them.

That's what she had on.

She touched her husband.

She said, Shube, come on.

We going downtown and we're going to register to vote.

They got in the back of my car, and I remember I'm 10 years old.

I'm driving like this,

looking through the steering wheel

and the dashboard, so I can reach the gas and the brakes.

They were quiet all the way down the street.

One of the reasons they may have been quiet was because during that time,

if a black person wanted to register vote,

he could possibly lose his job,

he could go to jail.

A worse scenario, he could even be hung to register to vote.

When we pulled up

at the courthouse,

they got out the car, still quiet, and they slowly walked into the courtroom or the courthouse.

I stayed in the car and I looked in the rearview mirror and there was people on the other side of the street and you know who I'm talking about.

They was taking names and writing tags down.

I wish everybody here could have seen what I saw when the millie came out of that courthouse.

The head was high,

they were actually holding hands

as if they went in the courthouse and just got married.

They walked back to the car and got back in the back seat.

Now, all of a sudden, I went from being their driver to their chauffeur.

When we got back

to his house,

he said, young man,

I am so glad

that you took us down and now we are registered voters.

When I turned 18 years old, for my birthday present, my parents took me down to the courthouse, Chancellor Court office, and I became a registered voter.

And the feeling that I got when I cast my first vote,

that was the first time I really felt like I was a true American citizen.

As long as I live,

the story of the Millers, the Brooms,

Meghan Ebbers, Martin Luther King,

those stories will never die.

Not on my watch.

This little light of mine,

I'm gonna gonna let it shine.

This little light of mine,

I'm gonna let it shine.

That was Pastor Herbert Broome.

Pastor Herbert Broome was born in Laurel, Mississippi to the late Reverend James D.

and Mrs.

Holly Pierce Broome.

He was raised in Woodville, Mississippi, and both of his parents were teachers and community activists.

Pastor Broome is married and is also retired from the automotive industry as a sales consultant.

Here's more of Pastor Broome backstage in Boston with Sarah.

What happened after you told your story on stage?

I got a surprising standing ovation.

That just really

made me feel warm because

it's not my story,

but all the people who have died and gave their life,

like Meghan Wally Elvis, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X,

who really,

and the thousands whose lives were sacrificed in wars to keep America, democracy, alive.

What would you say

to people who haven't told their story yet at the moth?

Is there anything behind the scenes they should know?

Absolutely.

It brings out your past.

It let people embrace you.

And a lot of people are resonated by what you tell them.

And I think personally, the Moth for coming to Jackson, Mississippi in their little portable porch, and that I had the opportunity to meet such a great staff that helped produce and drew that story out of my spirit.

And it's all because of the Moth Foundation.

So anybody out there who has a story to tell, by all means, get in touch with the Moth Foundation.

You'll be glad that you did.

You'll notice Pastor Broome calls us the Moth Foundation.

We're not a foundation.

We are a small and mighty independent nonprofit and a driving force for human connection and transformation.

We've seen students advocate for themselves with newfound courage.

We've witnessed strangers become friends through shared experiences.

This is the power of true personal storytelling.

We can only create these transformative moments with your support.

Your donation directly to the moth sustains the storytelling you love and helps others discover their voice.

Has a moth story ever moved you, made you laugh, cry, or see the world differently?

Help us bring that experience to more people.

Text Give24 No Space in Between to 78679NO to make a fully tax-deductible donation.

Your gift of any amount ensures the Moth continues building stronger, more empathetic communities in years to come.

Text Give24 GIVE 24 to 78679 to give today.

To close us out, here's Sarah behind the scenes again, this time with Larry Rosen, one of our other directors.

Here we are at Sony Theater.

Can you tell us something about the moth that maybe listeners don't know?

Anything about putting together a mainstage show or this green room or anything about the experience that listeners might not know about behind the scenes?

There's a lot of laughing.

We do.

We laugh a lot.

You know that people often think about this stories.

You know, they'll talk about how touching, you know, they are, and we definitely get into the stories that are more serious and things like that.

But, you know, we in the office and behind the scenes, I think we laugh a lot, you know, which is one of my favorite things about it.

We do.

Yeah.

We're done here.

Thank you, Larry Rosen.

It's my pleasure.

And that's all for this episode.

Remember, if you want to help support the Moth's mission, text Give24 to 78679 to make a fully tax-deductible donation and help ensure our continued work to nurture empathy and build community.

That's Give24, No Space In Between, to 78679.

And a special shout out to our Moth members and donors who have already made a commitment to help advance our mission.

From all of us here at the Moth, thank you for listening.

And thank you for being part of our growing community.

Jodi Powell has spent over seven years at the Moth, starting as an intern with the education and community team.

Since then, she has held roles as associate producer, producer, Moth Radio Hour host, and is now a director.

Jodi has worked on a wide range of stories featured on the Moth main stage, including those in The Moth's published books.

Jodi is passionate about the power of storytelling to bridge cultures, connect people around the globe, and foster deeper understanding.

Originally from Jamaica, Jodi is inspired by how storytelling transcends borders and brings people together.

Pastor Herbert Broome's story was directed by Jodi Powell.

This episode of the Moth Podcast was produced by Sarah Austin Janess, Sarah Jane Johnson, Jodi Powell, and me, Davey Sumner, stepping in for Mark Sollinger.

The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Christina Norman, Jennifer Hickson, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Marina Cluche, Suzanne Rust, Leanne Gulley, and Aldi Caza.

All Moth's stories are true, as remembered by their storytellers.

The Moth would also like to thank the Mississippi Museum of Art for partnering with us on our pop-up.

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

The Moth podcast is presented by PRX, the Public Radio Exchange, helping make public radio more public at PRX.org.

This fall, let your home smell as good as it looks.

Pura's app-controlled diffusers bring you premium scents from brands like Nest New York, Capri Blue, and Anthropology.

From Spice Pumpkin to Whitewoods, your fall favorites are just a tap away.

It's home fragrance that feels as elevated as it smells, and right now, it's the perfect time to stock up.

Visit Pura.com and bring home the best scents of the season.