The Moth Radio Hour: Play it Again, SLAM

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From PRX, This is the Moth Radio Hour.

I'm Jennifer Hickson.

This hour, we'll be hearing six stories from a night we called Play It Again Slam.

It featured stories pulled from the New York Story Slam archives, slightly tweaked and retold to a live audience.

Play It Against Slam was a chance to retell some stories that we loved, but weren't recorded well the first time or were maybe missing a plot point or a vital detail.

Sort of a do-over.

And who doesn't love a second chance?

Coincidentally, the stories this hour involve second chances.

The stories were told on the same night at the Music Hall of Williamsburg with the support of WNYC, a media partner for them off.

This first story is from Gabby Shea.

All right.

In my teens, you couldn't tell me anything.

I swore that I was a chef extraordinaire.

Granted, I was cooking for myself and my brother, but up here, my cooking was the bomb.

My specialty of choice was baked macaroni and cheese.

Now bear with me as I share this recipe.

Step one,

pull a box of mac and cheese out of the cabinet.

Step two, cook according to package directions.

Step three, place said mac and cheese in a baking dish and top with an even layer of cornflakes.

Now I'm going to give you all a moment to clutch your pearls because I now realize that that is blasphemy.

And step four,

bake until cornflake topping is golden brown.

Now my black card should have been revoked for that.

Okay?

In high school, I hung out with friends all the time.

I went to one friend's house one afternoon and her mom had just finished making dinner.

She asked me if I wanted some baked mac and cheese.

Now as a lover of food, I was not going to turn her down.

Plus, I wanted to see if her version matched up to mine.

So as she plated,

I decided to share my recipe.

I'm going through it, and I'm a little cocky, a little overly confident.

So, I can't really, I can't understand why they're looking at me like I'm crazy.

So, before I get through it, she shoves a forkful in my mouth.

And when I tell you, those flavors exploded.

I thought to myself,

Is this real cheese?

Cheddar, mozzarella?

It was so creamy and so smooth.

It was truly a life-changing experience.

So my friend's mom felt pity for me, took me under her wing, and that day taught me how to make real baked macaroni and cheese.

Fast forward a few years, and I meet this guy.

Frank and I dated for a while.

It got serious, and he decided that he was going to introduce me to his family.

I'd already met his mom and his sister, but there were four other siblings, their significant others, and about 15 plus nieces and nephews.

This was a big deal.

I was meeting the entire family, and I had to make a good impression.

Now, I'm Caribbean, and when we are invited to someone's home, We cook.

We do not do store-bought.

It's a cultural thing.

Cooking is a sign of love.

It's a sign of respect.

It's like I'm giving a piece of myself to those that I'm feeding.

So it's really important to me.

And of course, I decided that I was going to make my new and improved baked macaroni and cheese.

Plus, Frank was Irish.

So I wanted to show these white folk how black folk throw down in the kitchen.

Now, on Thanksgiving, sides are a very, very important part of the meal.

Probably the most important part of the meal, sometimes more than a turkey.

Mac and cheese is up there with mashed potatoes, collive greens, candid yams.

So if you're gonna do it, you gotta bring it.

And I knew I could bring it.

So we get to Frank's sister's house and the introductions start.

Things are going great.

He takes my dish and puts it right by the turkey people start to eat and Frank goes right for my mac and cheese so I'm watching him across the room and he's eating

but he doesn't look like he enjoys it

I'm a bit confused kind of offended

He comes over and before I can even get the question out, he shoves a forkful in my mouth.

I start to chew.

I start to gag.

I feel like I'm about to throw up, but I manage to swallow.

And in that moment, I realize, holy crap, I use sweetened condensed milk instead of evaporated milk, which is what the recipe called for.

Lesson of the day, always taste your food before you serve it.

Something that I did not do.

So I'm mortified.

Straight up panic mode.

He sees the look on my face and says, babe, I got you.

He went and performed some covert black ops extraction mission and got that mac and cheese off the table without anyone knowing.

I was

between relief and total embarrassment.

Now, I know that they liked me after meeting me, but I guarantee you, if they had tasted my banging mac and cheese, they would have loved me.

Lucky for me, Frank did not throw in the towel.

He invited me to Christmas dinner, and I knew I had to redeem myself.

So what did I do?

I made another batch of baked mac and cheese, but this time I tasted it.

to ensure that I used the correct ingredients.

We get to his sister's house, another sister,

and

everyone goes for the mac and cheese.

They are loving it, which I knew they would.

One person even says, dang, I can't believe I missed this on Thanksgiving Day.

I give Frank this knowing look because we got this little secret.

Frank and I end up getting married.

Right?

He's who I had those three girls with.

And 20 years later,

my baked mac and cheese is still the most sought-after dish on the family dinner table.

Thank you.

That was Gabby Shea.

Gabby and her husband are the parents to three beautiful girls, all of whom, no doubt, love her mac and cheese.

To see a picture of Gabby's mac and cheese and a picture of two of her girls making Thanksgiving stuffing, visit themoth.org.

And as for the milk in in the mac and cheese recipe, remember, evaporated, not condensed.

Our next story is by John Novick.

John was born and raised in Fishkill, New York.

Population about 2,000.

The kind of small town where everybody knows your name.

Here's John, live in the Big Apple.

It is Friday night.

I have had a long week at work.

I am out at a bar.

I am with my friends.

And I'm on the dance floor.

I'm invincible that I can weave through any human being and look very good doing it.

Simultaneously, I have not drunk too much to the point where it limits my linguistic capability.

So I'm ready to say the right thing at the right time.

Did I mention I'm single?

So I'm looking for somebody.

I'm looking for the right person and there she is.

I am doing my sultry thing.

I'm moving smooth as silk.

I'm talking clean as a kitchen countertop.

And she makes eyes with me.

I make eyes with her.

We start sauntering over to each other.

She puts her hand on my hip.

I put my hand on her hip.

It is probably the greatest Friday night I've ever had.

We're dancing.

We're dancing.

And then I look over and there are four dudes

laughing their asses off filming this interaction.

I have achondroplastic dwarfism.

And unfortunately, sometimes what that means means is that I look very good on a Snapchat story or an Instagram story.

And a lot of what I do can be made very easily into a spectacle, which is very unfortunate.

Now, I'm from a small town, Fishkill, New York.

I grew up, same school, never moved.

Everybody knew John has dwarfism.

Achondroplasia means he's not great at sports, but he's a great guy.

Very simple, very straightforward.

Now, I moved down here, New York City, in 2013.

Population of 8.5 million people, and I'm immediately overwhelmed that, once again, I'm very aware that I am a little person, that I have achondroplastic dwarfism.

And it reveals itself in all kinds of ways.

First, I'm very photogenic, apparently.

People love taking pictures of me.

People love taking videos of me.

People like commenting on maybe the way I'm walking, that I might waddle a little bit, or possibly the fact that I've got a lot of books in my backpack, so it's like I'm carrying my own body weight.

And if I stop too short, I'm going to fall over.

Or petting me, which is exactly what you think it is.

And it's frustrating and it's it's aggravating.

And simultaneously, it's psychologically conditioning to the point that every time I wake up in the morning and go to work and finish work and come home, I'm incredibly aware of where I am, where you are, what you have, and what you're doing with your phone.

I become increasingly paranoid.

I'm looking for people.

I'm avoiding groups of people.

And I am so cognizant of the angle that you have your phone that if you tilt it toward me in the slightest bit, it's like you're holding a weapon and I'm running away from you because I can't sacrifice six more hours thinking about what you might have done with that photo you might have taken.

I'm angry and I'm frustrated and I'm telling people and I'm wrapped up in this world that I don't understand, that I can't feel good about myself where I'm living.

And I'm trying to convince myself that maybe it's not even real.

Maybe it's in my head.

Maybe this one thing happened this one time and everything else has just been painted to

fulfill the rest of the experience.

And I'm trying to calm myself down.

I'm coming out of work.

I'm on my phone.

I'm trying to mind my own business.

And then I feel this whoosh of air go over me.

I look up, and I see a person running away from me, and it takes me a second to realize that someone just jumped over me.

And I turn

and I realize that someone else just filmed it.

Now I'm angry.

I've been angry, but now I'm very angry because I feel like I need to make an action.

I need to do something.

I have to do something, but what am I possibly going to do?

I can't catch up to you.

I can't fight you.

If I yell anything else, that's going to be on camera.

So what am I supposed to do?

I keep walking.

I keep walking very slowly.

I go, I pretend like nothing's happening.

I'm trying not to give you any more satisfaction you already have.

I go down the subway and I'm looking for a fight.

I'm looking for someone to take out their camera.

I'm looking for someone to make a comment because I've done nothing for too long and I'm done doing nothing.

But I do nothing.

Until I get home and I decide that I'm going to show everyone what happens.

I'm going to convince myself that I'm not paranoid, that these instances are accurate, and I'm going to document it.

I'm going to make a film about my own experiences in New York City.

So I do.

I'm fortunate enough to get a hidden camera from DC TV, a place I was working at the time, and I walked around and I captured, frankly, what I thought I would.

People taking pictures of me.

People shouting random things that, frankly, maybe that was what I wasn't expecting.

Ranging from, hey, short stuff, and verbatim walking in Times Square, hey, it's a midget.

But I captured it all and I put it together and it felt good.

It felt good.

It felt honest.

It felt like a good way of exerting, a positive way of exerting energy that at least I could feel confident about and I feel like I'm control of.

So I finish it up, I edit it up, I upload it online and I feel good.

I share it with a few friends.

And honestly, I'm feeling a little bit better about my whole experience.

At the time, I was working as a freelance.

videographer and I end up going out of town and like way out of town.

Like I don't have any cell service, I don't have any laptop service.

And I come back after a few days and I am informed that my video has been shared by a few friends, been shared by a new four friend, a few more friends, and eventually posted on the front page of Reddit and now has approximately 750,000 views and growing.

You remember in high school when you felt really passionate about something and you wrote it down, you wrote it down in poetry and you felt really good about it, but then you hid it under your bed and you know, you never talk about it now.

Imagine if somebody went under your bed, took it and literally showed it to 750,000 people, then a million people, then 1.5 million people.

I'm shuddering.

I take out my phone.

My phone explodes with like every single person I've ever met saying like, I saw your video, I saw your video, plus like some news organizations who want to do interviews.

And then life starts to change.

I start to meet my neighbors.

My neighbors come out of the woodwork saying, hey, John, it's so good to meet you.

Let me know if you need anything.

Hey, John, I didn't know that happened to you.

That's really frustrating.

I'm so sorry to hear that.

Hey, John, if anybody ever bothers you, we'll take care of them.

You just let us know and we'll take care of them.

Very, very nice people.

Very, very nice things.

Honestly, positive things.

I get to meet my neighbors.

I get to meet more people.

And in the lieu of it all one million two million three million I finally decide to do something that everyone recommends you should never do

I read the comments

and honestly they were great

like one person didn't like my earring everybody else

But people saying similar things.

Hey John, I really appreciate you sharing your perspective.

Wow, I had no idea about, you know, that this could be seen as offensive or frustrating or having to go through that day after day.

And also, more importantly, people like me, people who are little people, people who had dwarfism, people who had other kinds of disabilities saying, I really appreciate you making this because I know exactly what that feels like.

And I really appreciate being able to share this and do this and show this to other people to say, like, this needs to change.

This needs to stop.

And it felt good.

It felt really good.

That was five years ago.

And I'm still here.

And frankly, I love it here.

I live in Queens.

I have no reason, Queens, Queens.

I don't think I have any reason to leave anytime soon.

And I feel a whole lot better about my morning commutes.

I really feel like I met people.

I got to know the city.

I got to feel like I was at home here.

You know, I met my neighbors.

I met an incredible woman who I'm living with right now.

And

four-year anniversary coming up in February, we recently did something, a huge step in the relationship.

We adopted a cat.

Great cat.

But honestly, I'm really happy.

And if I look back on this entire experience, it was really something, and I feel really at home here.

But frankly, if we boil it all down, I got really angry.

I made something I was proud of, and I shot it into the void of the internet.

And I got back a very simple,

very concrete response.

Thank you for sharing.

Thank you.

That was John Novick.

To see John's hidden camera film, visit themoff.org, where you can also download the story.

John also wanted to especially thank Downtown Community Television Center, who lent him the equipment to make the project possible.

John says that making the film was a major turning point in his life.

A few months after it came out, he started working as a volunteer with the New York City Mayor's Office for People with Disabilities.

They happened to be celebrating the 25th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act.

A few months later, he applied for an open position, landed the job, and he's been working there ever since, using his talents to make New York City more equitable for people with disabilities.

When we return, two more stories based in the city that never sleeps.

We'll visit New York City's Chinatown and the 59th Street Bridge.

That's coming up on the Moth Radio Hour.

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

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This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX.

I'm Jennifer Hickson.

Next up from this evening of second chance slam stories in New York City comes Annie Tan.

The story highlights the question, what if you and your parents don't speak the same language?

Not metaphorically, but in fact.

Here's Annie.

My dad has called me every single day since I left home from college.

Every single day.

And he always calls and he always asks me the same question every time.

Nesik Maya, that's Cantonese for have you eaten yet?

And I always say something we both know, like the word chicken.

But how do you translate words like hummus in Cantonese?

Or if he'd asked me, where did you go today?

I'd say something like, well, I went to the place where you see the movies because I don't know how to say movie theater in Cantonese.

And then eventually we'd have nothing to say and then we'd hang up after 30 seconds.

And he's done this every day.

But my Cantonese isn't great because as a kid of immigrants here in New York, I was so focused on my family's survival, you know, figuring out how to translate the mail, going to Medicaid, now Medicare appointments, that I lost almost all my Chinese.

And my parents don't speak any English.

And so at a young age, I gave up hope of ever really understanding my parents.

But my dad persisted.

And by Thanksgiving 2015, I had been living in Chicago, and dad had been calling me for eight straight years.

And this day he calls, Agnia, Lesik Mea.

Yes, I'm eating right now at my friend's place with their parents.

And my dad pauses and he says, Agnia,

why aren't you here with us in New York with your own parents?

Fine, stay there in Chicago, don't come home.

And he hung up.

And for a day, and for the next few days, and for a week, he didn't call.

And I loved it.

I hated these phone calls.

It was such an obligation.

And my mom calls me a week later.

I guess she'd been waiting for me to call for a week.

And she says, you know, how serious it's become.

Aingia,

dad is saying that if you don't move back to New York, he will never speak to you again.

And I'm furious and sobbing.

And I can't believe my parents would threaten me like this, like with metal in my life.

I moved to Chicago to have my own life, you know?

And so I tell my mom this, that if you wanna not talk to me again, that's your choice.

And I hung up the phone.

And I had no idea what to do.

So I called my best friend.

And my best friend was like, Annie,

what?

Like, you have been talking to your dad for eight years.

He's been calling you for eight years.

Maybe you should be the one to call him for a change.

And three weeks pass and I fly home for Christmas.

And in fact, I'm allowed home to my childhood home here in Chinatown.

And

no one's talking and I don't know what to say.

And my dad does something he's never done before.

He took the chicken drumstick for himself.

Now in Chinese households, there's an untold rule that if there's an important guest in the house, like your daughter coming home after a few months, you give her the best food.

But he took the drumstick and he took the fish cheeks and the fish eyes, and then he went to bed without talking to me.

And my best friend was like, Annie, what do you want from your dad?

What do you want?

I go, I just want to be happy.

And I want my dad to be happy too.

And so I decide to tell him that over lunch the next day.

And I go, Papa, mu sorry, hoy samme.

Dad says, Annie, how can I be happy when you're in Chicago?

I know I can't convince you of this.

I know you're your own person, but just know I want you back here in New York.

And so dad had taken his stand, and now it's my turn to figure out what I was going to do.

And the next few days at home were good.

You know, dad at least gave me a chance at the drumstick this time.

But he also was telling his dad jokes.

He was cleaning up after me, too.

And I realized, you know, he's not a talker.

You know, he's, you know, these phone calls after eight years maybe just weren't working anymore for him.

His love language was definitely acts of service.

And he couldn't put a chicken drumstick on my plate from 800 miles away.

That same week, I had tickets to see this Asian American musical on Broadway.

It's one of very few musicals with people who look like me.

It was called Allegiance.

And the main character is a Japanese-American man whose family goes through the Japanese internment camps during World War II.

And his family goes through so much trauma that by the end of the play, he's decided to leave his family.

And George Takei, who's playing the main character, stands on stage.

After 60 years of being estranged from his family, and he just starts crumpling and sobbing on stage.

And I, in the very back row of that theater, start sobbing for the next 20 minutes.

And it takes me a few more months to decide, but I knew at that moment that I couldn't give up on my family anymore.

A few months later, I moved back to New York.

And,

you know, today actually marks three and a half years that I've been back.

And it's been hard, you know, I've had a lot of arguments with my dad since.

But this past Thanksgiving, after 30 plus years of being here in America, my dad had his first Thanksgiving turkey ever.

And he put that drumstick on my plate.

And dad still calls me every day, but now I take Cantonese classes.

So our phone calls are a little bit more than 30 seconds now.

And sometimes I'm the one who calls dad first.

Thank you.

Annie Tan is a special education teacher and an activist focusing on public education, teachers unions, tenant rights, and Asian American issues.

To see a picture of her dad's first Thanksgiving turkey visit themoth.org where you can also see Annie, her brother and her boyfriend holding drumsticks and a wing.

Annie is really happy that she's back home in New York where she can help out with her parents.

Her Cantonese is getting better little by little and what she can't say she tries to show in her own love language, acts of service and quality time.

Next up is Carl Banks.

He's originally from St.

Louis, but is now a full-blown New Yorker.

Here's Carl.

I'm a guitar player.

It's a pretty sweet job.

A lot of perks.

One of the perks is that I play gigs late at night and my days are pretty much wide open to do whatever I want.

And I took up running to fill up this time of my day.

I have this little AM FM radio I plug in and I just cruise all over the city and I love it.

I love watching the city unfold in front of me and being in tune with the rhythms of it.

I spend a lot of time on the Queensboro 59th Street Ed Koch Bridge.

I live on the Queens side.

I run across to Central Park very often and it's structurally a beautiful bridge, but the energy on the path that the pedestrians use is kind of an anxious, uneasy feeling.

That's because it's a very narrow path, and it's shared by pedestrians, cyclists, scooter riders, all sorts of people.

And it's compounded by the fact that you're mere feet away from cars with their exhaust, honking horns, and police sirens.

The most narrow part of the bridge is on the Manhattan side where the pathway bottlenecks around a structural column in the bridge and it was there over the summer that I was running and I saw a woman.

The woman had a large wide-brimmed hat and she was pushing a shopping cart and she had several open beach umbrellas in the shopping cart and she was coming at me.

And that's not an odd sight to see in New York, but

struck me as odd that day.

It became even more odd when she started waving at me.

And I'm running at her, and at first I thought she was just waving to potentially

get me out of the way because she was out of control with her cart or something, I don't know.

But as I got close, I realized she was trying to get my attention.

So as I got up to her, I took my headphones out, and she said, there's a man on the bridge, he's gonna jump, go help him, go help him, go help him.

And it hit me like a ton of bricks.

What I expected to see was somebody right on the edge of the bridge.

What I saw was a young man who was probably about 17 years old, and he was on the safe side of the bridge, leaning against the fence.

And he had a 10-mile stare.

And he had a look on his face that I am somewhat familiar with.

It looked like he was about to get into a fight, which is to say he was angry.

He was scared to death.

And he was desperately trying to mask it with indifference.

So I stopped and I asked him if he was okay.

And he didn't say anything.

He just looked right through me and ignored me.

So I asked him if he was okay a second time, still nothing.

And so I said, there was a woman on the bridge.

She said somebody was going to jump.

Is that you?

And still he didn't say anything, but tears started to stream down his face.

And I said, look, man, I don't know you, but just don't do it.

Just walk with me off the bridge.

I have a story I can tell you.

Just walk with me on the bridge.

Please don't do it.

And he didn't really move.

And I said, listen, I lost my twin sister two years ago to a suicide.

And I wish I could be there and tell her not to do it.

So please just walk with me.

And he started to move.

And so we started to walk off the bridge together.

And I recounted in great detail about the night that my sister passed away.

He was really scared.

When we had to walk in a single-file line, he wouldn't even let me walk behind him.

I had to walk in front of him.

I talked and talked, and when there was a lull in the conversation, he just said, tell me more about your sister.

So I did.

I told him that she was an amazing visual artist.

She was an unrepentant radical with a touch of anarchist,

but she had a very extremely tender heart and was incredibly sensitive.

She used to draw caricatures at a tourist at Six Flags, and she was so sensitive that she couldn't make any money doing it because she would always give them away, either thinking it wasn't good enough or thinking it was so good that they just should have it for free

I told her how I missed her how I never got to say goodbye and I really wish that I could have

we got on the solid ground

and

I didn't know what to do

I asked him if he had a safe place to go he said he did I asked him if he lived with his parents he said yes and I said if it's an abusive situation you don't have to go home you can come home with me I already had a friend of mine sleeping on the couch so I couldn't offer that, but I said you can come home.

We can figure out some safe place for you to go.

He said that it wasn't abusive, and he had a safe place to go home to his parents.

And at that time, I just really wanted to give him a hug, but it didn't seem like he was into like a hugging mood at the time.

So I dapped him up with what has to be the world's most awkward fist bump.

And then he walked away, and so did I.

I went the other way, and I started running.

And while we we were on the bridge, I had this singleness of purpose, this focus of just all I wanted to do was get him off the bridge, and I was refusing to feel any of the feelings except for that.

But as I started to run away, I put my headphones back in, and I'll never forget Bob Dylan's boots of Spanish leather started playing.

And all the emotion I had been suppressing on the bridge shot up through me like a wave.

And I started to cry as I ran home.

And then I took a shower.

And it was a complete breakdown in the shower, on my hands and knees and and crying.

But I got out of the shower.

I had a gig to go to.

I wish I could say I went and played Bob Dylan's Boots of Spanish Leather,

but it's a really hard song to play.

I don't know it.

And I don't remember his face that well.

I don't know that I would even recognize him if I saw him today, but I hope he's okay.

That was Carl Banks.

When Carl isn't out on tour playing his music, he runs on the bridge almost every day, and almost every time he crosses, he's reminded of the story you just heard.

But he says it is overall a positive memory.

To see a picture of Carl and his sister, visit themoth.org.

Included is a picture of his sister as a runner in high school.

At the time, Carl didn't understand her love of running, but he says he gets it now.

Stuck on

As you heard, Carl is a singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist.

This is some of his music.

When we return, two more stories: a school production of Beauty and the Beast in Armenian, and how a high school class called Peer Mediation offers up some helpful guidelines.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by the Public Radio Exchange, PRX.org.

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You're listening to the Moth Radio Hour from PRX.

I'm Jennifer Hickson with the final two stories from our Played Against Slam night in New York City.

This next one is from Anoush Frungian.

Anoush speaks very quickly, and we should note the story includes some Armenian phrases and singing.

Not to worry if you can't translate, just stay with it.

Here's Anush.

I was in fourth grade, and when you're a fourth grader at Holy Martyrs Armenian Day School, your life changes in a profound way, and not just because you're now an upperclassman, but because from now until the day you graduate, you are at the mercy of one Armenian school teacher, a teacher named Nadia Ishkuzar.

Nadia Ishkuzar taught the fourth, fifth, and sixth graders at Holy Martyrs, and she took the essence of the Armenian teacher to a brand new level.

I mean, sure, she had the usual excessive high-heel collection,

had the Bijan poodle dog named Bijou, and also wore what appeared to to be all her jewelry.

But she was also into drama and she wrote and directed all of the plays that we'd put on in the school and we'd be the one who decided what parts you would be assigned to and would possibly identify with for the rest of your life.

She was moody and brassy and didn't know how to deal with sensitive children.

And I was different from a lot of the kids in my class growing up and a lot of that had to do with having a mom who was born in the United States.

My parents are both Armenian but they come from different worlds.

My mom was born in the Bronx and works in advertising and my dad was born in Lebanon and works in Suffering for Your Art.

So

my mom was the Rolling Stones and my dad is the Beatles.

So I knew from a very young age that blending in anywhere would probably not be in the cards for me.

So Word on the Street was that the next big play that we would be putting on would be a word-for-word translation of Disney's Beauty and the the Beast in Armenian.

And I had to be in it.

I mean this wasn't your average Sasanci Tavit musical or the one where all the Armenian cheerleaders go, hey, hey, hey.

This was something you can invite someone normal to.

And so

the day came when Mrs.

Ishkirzad announced what parts we would be playing, and she did it in our Armenian class.

So we're sitting there in our desk connected to chair chairs, and right off the bat, the part of Belle goes to Diana Cholakian, and then the part of the sexy duster goes to Ani Zarabian and then the part of one of the girls who fawns over Gaston goes to Louisa Chichian and then part after part is being given away even Mrs.

Potts and Mrs.

Ishkuzad comes over to me and she says Anush I have a very funny part for you and I said okay and she goes you're going to play and she's at a loss for it for words because and this happens sometimes she doesn't know the English word for the thing she was trying to say so she but she's like opening and closing her arms like this And

someone says closet and then someone else says bureau and then someone else says wardrobe.

And she's

she says yes to all of those words.

And I'm thinking, is there a closet, bureau, wardrobe in Beauty and the Beast?

And there is, because Belle, the beautiful main character, needs something to accidentally bump into the first night when she's in the Beast's castle.

And I was going to be that, and I realized I was cast as a piece of furniture.

And

I was thinking, what am I going to do?

What am I going to wear?

I'm going to be walking around trying to explain what I am to everyone.

And I thought, how dare this woman cast me in a role that I've been playing my whole life?

And I mean, don't get me wrong, the Closet Bureau wardrobe is very...

strong character and she's bubbly, but I didn't want to be strong.

I just wanted to be pretty and understood and easily understood.

And I go home and I tell my mom, and I'm like in tears, and I said, Mom, I'm going to be the Closet bureau wardrobe.

And

she reacts in a way that's kind of like a like a kind of like a Gina Davis in Betelgeuse kind of way, like you know, I'm going to get her.

And I don't know what she's going to do, but I know that I'm in good hands.

So I cut to rehearsal.

Cut to my dining room table where my mom has this huge box, and the pot, she's painting the box white, and cut back to rehearsal gaston make a tie ke vochmeg on ho besee ye vochmega anohero se cut to our dining room table where um where she cuts a hole on either side of the of the box and illustrates illustrates flowers and vines on the end with doors that open

and and and then uh

and cut to my dining room table and a matching headpiece that she makes with her bare hands and and and I realized that my mom has made this beautiful elaborate costume for me and has been fighting for me with the most dangerous weapon any advertiser can have on any single individual package design

so so

So we I'm the play starts and it's fine.

I mean, I go and I say my one line and I stand because that's all I can do.

But what I liked the most was carrying the costume there and putting it on and then taking it off after the plane, being all hot because I knew that I worked hard and then meeting my mom and my dad and my mom's perplexed American friends afterwards and saying, thank you so much for coming.

Let's get out of here.

And now when I watch the movie,

that closet viewer wardrobe, she's a fighter.

My mom's a fighter and I'm my mother's daughter.

So if anyone ever puts me in a box, I'm going to make sure that I fill it with as much love and as much defiance as my mother put into that costume.

So be our guest.

Thank you.

That was Anush Funjian.

When she isn't telling stories, she draws cartoons for Anush Talks to Stuff, her webcomic about a girl who talks to inanimate objects.

Hmm, I wonder if being cast as an inanimate object in fourth grade has anything to do with this.

I asked Anoush to share a picture of the heralded wardrobe costume, and sadly, there isn't one.

There is a cast picture, but Anoush is almost completely obscured by the kid playing Lumiere, the candlestick.

Figures.

The wardrobe costume will just have to live on in our imaginations.

To see the cast picture and one of Anoush as a kid, visit themoth.org.

Our final story is from Wendy Page.

She comes from a large family, eight kids, and now has two children of her own.

Here's Wendy.

Till age 11, I lived in the ghetto.

My parents were all about God, education, God,

music, singing, God, a whole lot of God.

At the end of the day, they did everything they could to protect us so they had perimeters that we could not go and we had to be home before the street light came on.

We moved when I was 11 to Orange County, New York because we had a fire and it was at the end of the school year.

It was terrible but wonderful.

We were leaving the ghetto.

We entered into Monroe-Woodbury area, which is a predominantly all-white area at this time, 1993, I think it was 92 or 93.

And

my dad pulls up to my school in his pickup truck and he says, now go in there with those blue-eyed devils.

He chuckles and pulls off.

So

I come into my classroom, I enter into the classroom, and it's an ocean of white students.

And I find my seat further to the back of the class, the only seat open.

And the teacher had to step out to make a phone call.

And a student from the front of the class said, the N-word

and in my family now you guys know what fight or flight is but in my family it was fight or fight and if you didn't fight you're gonna come home and have a fight so you had to fight because that's where we came from a hard place so but I chose the ladder I ran out of the classroom I started crying the teacher came back she asked Wendy what happened I said someone called me the n-word and she said who was it She brought me in the classroom.

She said, point them out.

I said, I don't know.

They all look the same to me.

And then I realized I could be a racist, if that's even possible.

So then the class, the teacher asked the class, who said this to Wendy?

And all the students pointed to this one kid.

And I changed his name because I have 10 siblings and they all made me change it because they don't want me to have any problems because we still live in the same area.

So

they all pointed to Dave Fulty.

I didn't change it too much.

Everybody who knows me knows who he is.

So

at the end of the day,

At the end of the day, this is my introduction to Dave Fulty.

Fast forward, ninth grade, I'm probably

right into the first quarter of the semester, I took a class called peer mediation, and they taught you all the rules of how to solve a problem.

And I think they picked me out because they said I was excellent, and they picked out all the people they thought could be leaders, but I actually thought it was because I was one of the only black females, tall, six feet tall.

So at the end of the day, I'm taking this peer mediation course and I'm about to get my certificate.

And in this course, they teach you these tools to how to solve a problem.

And how you solve a problem is, is first, you go to the individual and you tell them that it is a problem.

And then, if it still persists, you go back to them and you ask them to stop.

You want to ask them more than once, so you ask them twice.

And then, if it persists, now you go to the authorities.

I had a question in class.

I asked, well, what happens if somebody touches you?

And the teacher said, you have the right to defend yourself.

I said, okay, that works.

My dad would say that too.

So

it's

first period.

I see Dave Faulty.

And I'm about to get my certificate.

And Dave Fulty walks right up to me and he says inward bitch

I'm stunned and he takes off and I don't get a chance to think about anything that I've learned in peer mediation but two periods later I was sure that I was gonna handle Dave Faulty just right so when I saw him I said Dave Faulty would you please stop calling me up

And he continued to say it over and over and over and over again.

And then I said, you know what?

Let me ask him again right away so I can get to the next step.

So I did.

And he continued his chanting and laughed and ran down the hallway.

So I went right to the office.

And my school was rich, so I was able to write a letter and make a copy of it and put it in my principal's office, vice principal's office, and my guidance counselor.

And then I went to lunch.

When I got to lunch, I realized that Dave Faulty was cutting class sitting on the radiator.

So I walked right up to Dave Faulty and I said, Dave Faulty, would you please stop calling me an N-word bee?

Dave Faulty looks at me and he says, wow, your necklace, it says love on it.

And I look down

and he pulls a hair off of my chest.

At this point, the principal comes over, the vice principal, he comes over and says, Hey, guys, you got to get off the radiator.

And then I don't realize it, but I'm going into shock because, but how do I know I was going into shock?

My friend Renee was behind me and she goes, Hey, Wendy,

I got you a cookie.

So I was hearing in slow motion.

So then I hear the principal, the vice principal say, hey guys, you got to get out the radiator.

And I look at the vice principal and I say, he touched me.

Well,

Dave Faulty's standing there.

He has long hair.

I put my hands in his hair.

I figured that's a spot of weakness, right?

And

I took his hair and

I proceeded to take his head

and it was bad.

It was really bad.

But we ended up on the floor because his football player friend kind of like threw me onto it.

But I don't remember all this.

Now I want to tell you guys, I do not condone violence at all in any way.

So I don't actually remember all this, but this is a famous fight in Monroe Woodbury.

I think all my siblings got like pulled out of school that day.

But at the end of the day,

I'm on the floor and I look up and I see the only African-American staff of Monroe Woodbury of 1,500 students.

And I realize that he's giving me a few more seconds to whip Dave Fulty's ass.

So

at some point, I get up, I float to the principal's office, I'm in the principal's office, the principal's asking me, like, what happened?

What happened?

And I'm like, I don't know.

And then I said, oh, I left a note in your mailbox.

He got the note.

I didn't get in trouble.

Dave Fulty got suspended.

I didn't.

But fast forward, like 10 years later, I see, I hear Wendy and I turn around and it's Dave Fulty and Dave Fulty goes Wendy and he he's got his arms out wide like he wants to hug and I'm like

I'm gonna hug Dave Fulty

so we hug and he says honey honey come over here this is the girl that whipped my ass in high school and she shook my hand like I was the president

I don't know,

I don't believe in violence.

Peer mediation works, but every once in a while somebody just needs a good ass kicking.

That was Wendy Page.

All of Wendy's siblings remember this incident quite clearly.

It's sort of family lore at this point.

Wendy hasn't seen Dave again since that chance meeting in Kmart.

Yes, it was at a Kmart.

Just goes to show you, you never know who you'll run into and end up hugging at the big box store.

The peer mediation Wendy attended in high school set her on a path, and now she's a pastor in the Methodist Church where she also sings in the choir with her musical family.

Here's a tune that Wendy wrote and we're gonna let her sing us out.

Hallelujah,

Hallelujah,

You are God,

the great I am, your God,

the great I am, your God,

and worthy of my praise.

Hallelujah.

That's it for this special episode of Stories from Play It Again Slam.

Sing it, Wendy.

Thanks for listening to the Moth Radio Hour.

We hope you'll join us next time.

Hallelujah.

Hallelujah.

Your host this hour was Jennifer Hickson.

Jennifer also directed the stories in the show.

The rest of the Moss directorial staff includes Catherine Burns, Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Janess, and Meg Bowles.

Production support from Emily Couch.

Moth Stories Are True is remembered and affirmed by the storytellers.

Our theme music is by The Drift.

Other music in this hour from Teddy Wilson, The Meters, Matthias Rookdoschel, Blue Dot Sessions, Carl Banks, Beauty and the Beast, Karaoke, and Wendy Page.

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.

The Moth Radio Hour is presented by PRX.

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

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