The Moth - Behind the Scenes: The Moth Radio Hour

Episode Date: December 30, 2025

If you've been moved by a story this year, text 'GIVE25' to 78679 to make a donation to The Moth today. In this hour, stories by and about the people who work behind the scenes. A bartender, an almost-cook, and a teacher. This episode is hosted by Moth director Jodi Powell. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by The Moth and Jay Allison of Atlantic Public Media. Storytellers: Gretchen Van Esstelyn steps up during a kitchen catastrophe.  James Gordon's student asks him a difficult question.  Bartender Anastasia Maximenko has an uncomfortable conversation with a customer.  Nahla Summers's partner is determined to give her the best birthday ever.  Jeremy Gaitan and his family are caught in a natural disaster.  Podcast # 956 To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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I'm your host, Jodi Powell. In this hour, we'll take you one step beyond the sign that reads employees only. We're bringing you tales from the back of house. We'll get the scoop behind. those swinging doors and hear the stories that never, ever make it to your table. I love stories that unlock a room you have never been in. And our first one comes from Gretchen Van Esselstyn. This was told in New York City, where WNYC is a media partner of the month.

Here's Gretchen. So I'm feeling good that afternoon when I'm making the green apple venegrat. I'm adding the ice cubes to the blender so that the parsley stays nice and green and I'm trickling in just like the right amount of rice vinegar and it feels like it's going to be a good night. The chef whose entire purpose in life is to make me cry is going to be out of the kitchen tonight

and it's going to be just me and the two badass line cooks working the hotline. So the hotline is where the stoves are And I'm not allowed over there, except to replenish the oil bottles and the chopped herbs for the cooks, the real cooks. And someday I'll be good, and I'll be able to get to the hotline, but not yet. But it's okay, because what I have is the salad station. I do garde manje, which means guardian of the food. But really, it's just opening oysters and making salads.

But it's cool. It's like salads in fine dining are, they're a beautiful thing. It's the stacking and the fluffing and the components, and I'm into it. So service starts, you know, we're a pretty good Wednesday night. It's going well. I'm in my salad space. And then I hear some cursing, like a lot of cursing. And I turn and I look and it's like, does you ever see like a really nice seared duck breast?

And it's got like that nice, crispy fat on the top. and then a really beautiful, rare red center. So it turns out that's a lot like what the inside of your hand looks like. Except there's a lot more blood. So Jose, one of the line cooks, has a knife coming out of his hand, and just as I'm about to say, don't pull it out, he pulls it out. And there's a lot of blood. So I turned my head back to the garbonnet for just a second,

because I can hear the ticket printer starting to chatter and we're getting a lot of orders coming in and as I have my head turned I hear another sound from the hotline and it's a thud. So Steve, the other line cook, has had the classic vezo-veigal response he has hit the floor.

He has passed out cold by the hotline. So Jose has taken like a food smeared side towel and he's wrapping it around his hand and trying to turn over a steak with the other hand. And then a waiter pokes his head in and sees what's going on and says, I'll call a cab. And I'm grateful. And I don't know what a cab is going to do in this situation,

but I'm just happy that there's someone else in the room with me who's not passed out or bleeding. But then he's gone, and he's taken Jose with him. And I'm alone, and things are burning. Like, proteins are burning. I'm not allowed to touch the stove. But what choice do I have? So I step over Steve's body and over to the hotline.

And I start just turning and plating. And I'm trying to remember which garnishes and sides go on which plate. But I'm doing it. And servers come in and they try to help, but they're slam too. It's like suddenly the busiest Wednesday night we've ever had. But I'm doing it. I'm cooking steak and fish and chops and I'm putting them on the plate and I'm doing it. And it's an order comes in.

And it's table 17, end-dive salad, sauce on the side. And I know this order. So we don't do sauce on the side. This is fine dining. We don't do that. But we do it for this table. Wednesday night regular, big tipper. or may not have been one of TV's Golden Girls.

And making her salad is like my favorite part of this job. So I do something strange. I just start turning off the burners. And you don't turn off the burners during service. You're always going to need them again. But I do. I just turn them all off. And after the last one, I step, yep, back over Steve,

into the Grand Mache. And I make the salad. And I just, I slice those. crisp half moons of endive, and I picked the most beautiful little baby bib lettuce leaves and crumble the Stilton, Julianne, some green apple, and fill up that little sauce on the side of Ramekin with that tart green apple vinaigrette. And I send it out. And then I look back to the hotline, and SELSO, the dishwasher, has turned all the burners

back on and is working the hotline a hundred times better that I could ever do in my So I just turned back to my station, and I have a lot of oysters open. I'm still not any good at it, and I'm just shucking oysters, just, like, stabbing myself in that part of my hand every fourth time by mistake, just kind of relishing that pain and just being like, I didn't really make it to the hotline. Not really. You know, I don't get to be the hero that night. I'm just going to get on the train like every other night.

reeking of friar grease and just cry all my way home to Brooklyn, just like every other night. But then I see the dishes come back from table 17. And I sent out a lot of badly cooked steaks that night. But I also sent out something so beautiful and delicious and nourishing that she licked the plate clean. That was Gretchen Van Estelston. Gretchen believes she is the only writer

with a peculiar trifecta of a James Beard Award nomination for Culinary Journalism, a first-placed trophy in the National Port Board recipe contest, and a short story featured in Best American Erotica. She is working on a novel about intergenerational friendship with benefits, in the time of climate change. We followed up with Gretchen to get the scoop on who that VIP guest was. Gretchen told us it was none other than Golden Girl, Rue McClanahan,

who always enjoyed a good end-dive salad and was a great tipper. Gretchen also shared one of her family recipes with us. Visit the moth.org to try it out. Our next story was told by James Gordon at the Chicago Grand Slam, where WBEZ is our media partner. Here's James at the Vic Theater. I'm pretty sure Janine Teagues from Abbott Elementary, is my spirit animal.

We both had that overwhelming enthusiasm and optimism and everything is going to be all right. And I took this into my second year of teaching seventh grade language arts at Rosa Parks Middle School. One, because I had a job. And two, I had a whole year of teaching experience under my belt. You couldn't tell me shit.

I walked into the class, brand new soup, brand new shirt, brand new tie, brand new shoes like I have on. Now, I say, good morning, class. I'm Mr. Gordon. I will start taking attendance, and a hand goes up. Young man in the second row. I said, yes, sir. He says, before you call attendance, my name is Hawkins.

And I immediately looked down the list. He says, no, no, Mr. Gordon. It's Hawkins, just my last name. And I'm like, oh. He said, well, my father's in the army. And he said, the man gets respect from being called by his last name, and I would appreciate if you call me by my last name.

And I said, oh, okay, Mr. Hawkins, sure. He said, no, Mr. Hawkins is my granddad. Sergeant Hawkins is my dad. I'm just Hawkins. Do you got it? And immediately, I said, oh, shit. And then he said, what I'm missing a beat. and I meant no disrespect, sir.

And I said, oh, my goodness. I've never seen such politeness in the seventh grader. This is going to be great. And this is who Hawkins was. Above average in all subjects, extremely talented chess player, very good debater, played basketball,

had to go through that before we got to the stereotype. Okay. And he was just a great guy in class. Several months down the line, we go to a trip called The Other Cinderella. It plays at the Black Ensemble Theater. And it's to Cinderella what the whiz is to the Wizard of Oz. High octane, hip-hop infused, dance, singing, and the students loved it. Unlike the trip I planned last year to the Nutcracker,

it flopped like when the Bears played a Packers flopped. And I love my bears, but shit, you know. So anyway, this is when Hawkins says, Mr. Gordon, Mr. Gordon, I'm going to be an actor. You're going to see me on that stage. And I said, I believe it. He says, I believe it too. And I believed him. One day, we were doing a journal assignment about what he wanted to be.

And, of course, he stated in his journal that he wanted to be an actor. Others said, lawyer, doctors, and such. And he raised his hand. He said, Mr. Gordon. I said, yes, Hawkins. He says, what did you want to be? I said, I wanted to be a teacher. And we all chuckled at that.

He says, well, did you want to be something else? Did you want to be something other than a teacher? And I said, yeah, I wanted to be an actor like you. He said, really? I said, yes. He says, well, why aren't you? Why aren't you an actor, Mr. Gordon? I said, well, teaching was a better option.

He said, it was? and I said it was and the bell ring for class and that cliche of being saved by the bell was appropriate at that moment because I had lied to him I didn't think I could be an actor I didn't think they had people on TV

that look like me dark skin like me not long flowing hair not the sick pack abs nothing I was from the south side of Chicago I couldn't be an actor. So I was a teacher. It was, I guess, what I was supposed to do. Hawkins nodded to me, I nodded back, and the rest of the year went,

but I couldn't stop thinking about the question he had asked me about being an actor. Why hadn't I done it? I had been the teacher that had always encouraged, you can do whatever. However, put your energy, put your effort, put your hard work into it, and you can do it, but I hadn't done that.

I was living daily hypocrisy because I didn't do that. The seventh grade year came and went and Hawkins went on to the eighth grade. He would get into the drama club and I would keep in touch with him, keep tabs on him. He went to Thornton High School next,

starred in plays, and then he went to Illinois State University and his first year he got a role in the Express to Ed Davis story, and then we lost touch. And I was happy for him because he had pursued his dreams, but I hadn't. A friend of mine, as I started doing poetry,

a friend of mine reached out, he said, hey man, you want to be in a movie? I mean, I got this movie called Animal's the Movie. And he says, I said, dude, I'm not an actor. He said, you'll be playing a teacher. I said, oh, I can do that. Yeah. And so I did it. He said, well, you should do some background work.

And I started doing background work, extra work. And I wound up on a show called Chicago PD. And I saw one of the actors. I said, about 6'3, black guy, buff, handsome. And I said, no way. And I said, and they said, tell extras don't speak to the actors. And I'm a rule breaker. So I said, Hawkins!

And he came over, he says, Mr. Gordon, what are you doing here? I said, I'm acting. I'm doing background work. He says, no shit. I said, no shit. And he hugged, he said, well, I got to go to set. I said, well, okay, great. I said, I'm proud of you, Hawkins.

He said, I'm proud of you, too. And as alluded to in my introduction, I'm an actor now. You've probably seen me somewhere and didn't know it was me, but I'm doing it. As teachers, we have this credo about reaching one student. We want to reach as many as we can, but we want to reach one student. And I'd like to say I've done that in all my years of teaching. But the hook is when the student can reach back and touch and influence you like Hawkins did me. Thank you.

That was James Gordon. James is an international award-winning author and poet, champion storyteller, and acclaimed actor. He can be seen in episodes of the Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, the G, background extras, and the film The Ways. In a moment, we go behind the bar during happy hour, and we hear about a very unexpected birthday gift.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. This is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jodi Powell. In this hour, stories from behind the scenes. Our next storyteller takes us behind the bar. Anastasia Maximeco told this at Astorishlam at the Ecuadorian American Cultural Center in Astoria, Queens, where WNYC is a media partner of the Moth. Here's Anastasia.

When I got to United States, I started working as a bartender to pay my bills. And as a bartender, you chichot a lot with the customers. And my accent, even though I think I don't have any, it sparks a lot of conversation. People would say, like, oh, where are you from? How did you get here? When did you get here?

And so on. So as anyone here, like, I love talking about myself. So, therefore, I mean, in the mouth. and this is like 2016 and I work in Turkish restaurant on 42nd in medicine and I get to work about like four to prepare my bar and then we get actual crowd about like 5.30-6ish because it's like me town so office people after a really hard day in the office job they come to us to have a happy hour cocktails and but that day I come to work and I see there's a at four o'clock there is a couple at the

bar so I know right away it's probably like tourists from other states and I as I learned later on yes this middle-aged white couple is probably is actually from Arkansas and so I go behind the bar and I'm super nice because I'm like really nice and I and I and I I just enjoy serving people. So I go, hello, how are you? Would you like to see our happy hour menu? Would you like to see our menu? And this guy, he's like with the grayish hair

in like bright yellow polar shirt. I would call him man without smile. He goes right away. I need Jack Daniels. I cannot do Arkansas accent, sorry. So he goes. Jack Daniels on the rocks and chardonnay for my wife. And I'm like, oh, excuse me, we don't have chardonnay,

but I have really nice Turkish wine, which is very similar. Okay, get it. And I'm like, okay, man knows what he wants. And, you know, I give the menu, and I give them a few minutes to decide what to order. Then I come back, I take their order, and man again, he orders everything for him or for his wife. And his wife is like really voluminous, like ginger hair

and matching like red polo shirt. But, and she's smiling. And I'm like, wow, interesting couple of men without smile and smiling wife. And they order for him, he ordered pasta. The only pasta on our menu were a Turkish restaurant for Christ's sake. And for her, he ordered salad with chicken. And conversation begins.

He goes, you know, I hear your accent what it is. And I say, it's Russian. And like, I feel the tension. Especially when behind me there's TV that rolling this news about Russian hackers and recent election of Trump. And he goes, hmm. So where in Russia are you coming from? And I goes, oh, I'm really not from Russia, I'm from Kazakhstan, but we speak Russian there.

And he's like, hmm, that's where the Pakistan is. And I think it to myself, close enough, Pakistan. But I say, yeah, yeah, yeah, it's somewhere. Somewhere they're close. And his wife, she leans towards him. Like they ask him questions together. But she doesn't say anything. She's just smiling.

And he goes, so when did you come here? And I go, about six years ago, he's like, so do you like it here? And I go, you know, I'm living here, and it's my home, so obviously I like it. And he goes, home. And at that moment, I feel enchanted. I'm like, I speak even in more nicer tone, and I'm like, yeah, I live here six years, but actually I already went to college, and I finished Hunter College with a major sociology, with others, and also, this job is just to pay my bills, and I already work part-time as admission counselor,

and I really want to, in the future, become full-time, because I want to help students and guide them. And at the moment, I'm just thinking, I'm asking myself, like, why are you like this? And I'm thinking, is it because, like, the notion of immigrants is, like, altered so much during that election and after that election? Or I'm thinking that maybe, like, I feel in deja vu because I went through this before. And yes, in immigration office, I went through the same interrogation with the immigration officer to whom I had to prove that I deserve to be here. And as an immigrant, there's many moments where you have to prove that you deserve to stay in this country. And, you know, I'm still thinking to myself, but at the moment, wife stretch her arm, attach me, and say, we're glad you're here.

Thank you. That was Anastasia Maximeco. We're very sadden to share that Anastasia Maximeco. Nastasia passed away in 2024. We first met her through a moth community workshop with new women New Yorkers. She was born and raised in Kazakhstan, and Anastasia immigrated to the United States at the age of 20 and went on to build a career in counseling immigrant students. She is remembered for her heartfelt stories and her generous spirit towards everyone she met.

Our next story comes from Nala Summers. Nala told this at our London Story Slang. Here she is, live at the moth. Thank you so much. Must really suck, but I'm going to trump that with Easter birthdays because there is nothing worse than coming down the stairs and receiving a chocolate Easter egg for your birthday. It's depressing. It was my 32nd birthday where everything changed. And Paul, my partner, was determined to make it the best birthday ever. And so he asked the question a month before

that every good partner asks, what do you want for your birthday? And every partner who doesn't want to appear greedy says, no, nothing, I don't want anything. And there's always a suck through the teeth, like, am I going to get into real trouble here if I actually get her nothing at all. So he continued to ask me,

what would you like for your birthday? And I continued to say nothing. A week before my birthday, we had a week planned off. And so I was traveling into work on the Friday, and I had the happy holiday feeling. Nothing and no one was going to put me in a bad mood. On the way, I dropped my partner to a charity cycle ride.

And a couple of hours later, he called me and said, hey, I don't feel very well. And I said, oh, I'll come and pick you up because I'm in that happy holiday mode. And he said, oh, no, actually I think I'm going to call an ambulance because I feel like I'm having a heart attack. Very cool and calm. And, of course, I'm thinking in my mind, well, it's just Ava exerted himself. And I call back after about 10 minutes, and he doesn't answer the phone.

A lady answers the phone and asks me to make my way to the hospital. I get in the car, and I think, well, this is all going to be over. because everything's okay. It's near my birthday, we've got a week off, everything's good. This is not the story. When I get to the hospital, they sit me down and they tell me that his life has expired. There's lots of things that I don't remember about that day.

But they put me in a room, and they laid me down on a sofa and I looked out of the kind of the dappled 70s NHS curtains and all I could feel was love like somebody was pouring it over me and eventually a nurse came in and asked me how I was getting on and I started to share with her all about Paul how extremely funny he was

this kind of dry humour and how he could find the humour in even the worst moments of life he loved me so unconditionally I went into the darkest place, as people will understand in the room. Grief sends us on a journey. A week later, my birthday came around

and I had barely left the house. And what happened was the birthday cards got mixed with the condolence cards. and my birthday came and I just kept thinking I just want a birthday card from him to come through the front door the day continued

and it got to about 8 o'clock in the evening-ish and my friend called me and she said to me I didn't want to tell you this but I've got to Paul got you a present he bought us a spa day and when he emailed me the details

he said don't let on that I've got her anything because I want her to believe that she got sweet FAA just as she asked there is some important lessons for us all in this last few years But one that I learn every year on my birthday is that unconditional love is truly the greatest gift

that we can give and receive. Thank you. Nala Summers is on a mission to transform how we connect. Whether it is in the workplace or our lives, in the world. She calls herself an accidental researcher of kindness and uses her story in nothing less than her quest to change the world, one act of kindness at a time. In a moment, a seemingly perfect snowy morning in Jackson Hole. That's when the Moth Radio Hour continues.

development. As an independent nonprofit organization, the Moth relies on support from listeners like you to keep our stories alive. In order to share even more stories fostering empathy and connection, we hope you will consider making a donation directly to the Moth. Every dollar will support the production of the Moth's signature live events, podcast, and radio hour, as well as community engagement and education programs. We're proud to bring you inspiring stories from all over the globe. Please visit the moth.org or text give 25 to

78679 if you've been moved by a story you've heard this year. And thank you for being a part of the moth. This is the moth radio hour. I'm Jody Powell. Our final story was told by Jeremy Gaten at the

main stage in Alaska, where we partnered with the Anchorage Concert Association. Here's Jeremy. It was December 26, 1996. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen in Jackson Hole. It felt like one of the best late Christmas presents you could ask for. My family loved days like these.

My dad could get out and make some extra money, and my mom and sister and I could get out and have some fun. My dad had a snow plowing business back then, so he was up before dawn out, clearing people's driveways. He used to take me out with him occasionally on his rounds and let me operate the snow plow, which for a young kid couldn't have been more exciting,

operating heavy machinery. I used to love watching the snow pile up, and I was always amazed at how big some of those piles could get. He was also a skilled hunter. He'd go out every year for elk, deer, antelope, moose, and anything else he could. And I just loved being out in the backcountry with him, surrounded by nothing but mountains and wilderness, it really gave me a sense of being at home.

My mom, who's a pillar of strength and ambition, has been a realtor in Jackson for over 45 years. She started her career from scratch and went on to own her own brokerage, and she even won the Realtor of the Year Award. Since she had a somewhat flexible schedule, she was able to take my sister and I out on countless outdoor adventures. One of her gifts to us was skiing, and if you've ever taken children out skiing, you know that's a testament to her will and love for the mountains. My sister is about four years older than me, so as kids, she was always much better at skiing and pretty much everything else.

It could make a young guy pretty jealous not being able to keep up with big sister, but there was something I could be proud of back then, and I was getting to the front seat of the car first, so I could ride shotgun. That December 26th was one of those proud moments for me. So as we woke up to all the fresh snow, it was pretty natural we'd be going skiing that day. My mom made us a beautiful breakfast of lucky charms, always my favorite. And after that, we began the long process of suiting up for skiing. As we were doing that, my mom went out to the garage and put our skis on top of the silver Ford tourist sedan.

When she was done, she called for us to head to the car, and the race was on. I ran as fast as I could to get into the front seat, jumped in and smiled smugly at my sister through the windows. After some heated conversation about how unfair this was, we backed out of our freshly plowed driveway. Our house was in Rafter J. It's a little neighborhood a few miles south of Jackson. The highway to get there was two lanes at the time and basically cut into the side of a mountain. As we start getting up to speed on the highway, I hear my mom say something she just never says.

Oh, shit. My heart began to race. I didn't know what was going on. I knew it must be pretty serious for her to talk like that in front of her children. I feel the car accelerate. Then I look up to the mountain on my right. There's this huge wall of snow barreling down the mountain towards us.

At that point, everything switched into slow motion, and I looked back to the highway thinking, we'll just keep driving. Snow will miss us, and we'll be skiing in no time. I guess my mom thought the same thing, which is why she floored it when she saw the snow. and then wham, the snow

hits the car everything goes completely dark it engulfed the car blocked out all the light and then silence I felt this overwhelming sense

of peace and calm even though the car was rolling over and over down the side of the mountain at some point we stopped I was so confused. My mom kept asking over and over if we are okay, but I just didn't even know how to answer that question.

I'm like looking down, why is my seat jammed all the way forward? Why is my seatbelt so tight? It hurts. All the windows were shattered. The car landed upright with only the lower half buried. Then I looked to the back seat where my sister was sitting. She's there, she's conscious, but she is covered in blood. The whole backseat of the car, the roof, it's just all bloody.

At that point, I just don't know what to do or think, so I just sit there. Then my mom's car phone rings. It was one of those old Motorola's with the big bass and the curly cord to the handset. to the handset. She reaches down, picks it up, brings it up to her ear, and she says, hello, this is Penny. I guess the extreme stress of the situation kind of defaulted her into business mode. Turns out it was another realtor looking to show a house that day. She quickly We snapped back to reality, realizing we really need help, so she tells the guy to call her husband, call 911, tell them we've been in an avalanche.

Finally kind of clicked into place for me. I'd heard about them, I'd seen them on TV, but never could have imagined being in one, especially in a car. She hangs up the phone and we wait. seems to have warped in those moments because it felt like almost instantly there were paramedics outside the car helping us crawl out through the broken windows. My mom and I were fine, so we got out and we just stand there as they're carefully trying to extract my bloody sister from the wreckage. Once they finally get her out, they strap her to a red trauma board,

secure her head between two foam pieces, and they have to carry her up the side of the mountain as we hike up through the deep snow behind them. Get up to the highway, they put her on a gurney, roll her into the ambulance. My mom and I get in and sit alongside her. Any memories of jealousy or fights we had just faded away. All I could feel was fear and worry for my sister. Paramedics were shining their little flashlights into her eyes,

taking her vitals, getting blood all over them as they did. They kept asking, where does it hurt? Where are you bleeding from? But she just didn't have an answer. Again, time warps and we're at the hospital. As the ambulance doors opened, I see my dad standing there. I run out and give him a big hug and he somehow seemed calm. And that helped calm me down just a little bit to get my bearings.

I guess when he heard of the accident, he raced to the scene. He said he was taking the back roads at nearly 100 miles per hour, and he was able to follow the ambulance to the hospital. Then we all follow my sister into the ER. Doctors quickly began work. They were frantically cutting through her ski clothes, trying to figure out where all this blood is coming from. Again, they're asking, where does it hurt?

Where is it hurt? Where are you bleeding from? but she just doesn't have an answer. I'd never experienced anything like this, anything near death. I thought it might be my sister's time. I got as close as I could. And all I could say was, I love you, Nicole. I really thought that it was going to be the last thing I ever say to her.

So as the doctors continue working, cutting through layer after layer, out of the corner of my eye, I see my dad reach down and pick up her bloody coat from the floor. He picks it up and stares at it for a minute. And he brings it up to his face and he smells it. You guys, he said, this is deer blood. The doctors stop and look over at him, look back and forth at each other, like, what is this guy talking about? They continue checking and cutting through the final layers, but my sister was completely fine. I guess my dad's knowledge of hunting and the unique smell every animal possesses mattered just a little more in that moment than the doctor's years of medical school.

Huge weight had been lifted off me, and I could finally breathe again. So with all the snow we had received the prior evening, herds of deer were moving around in the mountains, trying to find some fresh sources of food. The timing for that particular herd moving across the mountains, and us going skiing couldn't have been worse. They triggered the avalanche near the top, and we were driving directly below.

Among all the snow that engulfed the car, there were several deer. One of these deer came into contact with the car, got sliced up by the skis on top, and the broken glass of the windows, and entered the backseat through one of the windows. The deer tumbled around with my sister until, ultimately, being flung out before the car settled. My sister has no recollection of a deer being in the car with her,

or how she even stayed in the car with no seatbelt on. I know life can change in the blink of an eye, but I still feel this incredible magnetism to the mountains and the place I call home. I've always told this story as just a random stroke of bad luck, entwined with unbelievable good luck, but now it just seems like it's part of a bigger picture, a much longer story of my family constantly being knocked down, somehow getting back up and dusting off and moving forward. I mean, my parents had dinner reservations that evening at one of the nicer restaurants in Jackson,

Snake River Grill. They didn't miss it. It's, yeah, it's pretty clear to me now that surviving that avalanche and still getting out and enjoying everything the mountains have to offer, it's just part of who we are, a tough family. I've always known that to be true for my parents, but it's finally sinking in for myself. I think that avalanche and the wild, rugged place I grew up in have helped form this underlying sense of resilience that, have helped me weather just about any storm. I currently live in Rafter J again, this time with my wonderful wife, Jane. Wish you could have made it tonight, but Alaska's pretty far.

But I drive by that avalanche path every single day, and each time, no matter what the season, I'm transported back to that moment, that huge wall of snow cascading down towards us. I know there's no way to control the forces of nature. but I'm drawn to the mountains and I have immense love and respect for them for the resilience and strength they have given me and my family. Thank you.

Jeremy Gaten was born and raised in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. He loves skiing, mountain biking, and hiking. So a little behind the scenes with this story. I met Jeremy when he was on our crew as our photographer and one year I was told that he has a story of being in an avalanche and he pitched it right there to me as he was taking photos at our soundcheck and the following year he closed the show with that story. So yes, sometimes a pitch for another gig on the job works

and remember the Moth is always interested in your pitches. To see some photos of Jeremy Gaten enjoying the outdoors of Jackson Hole and some images that he has taken, visit the moth.org. And to bring the behind-the-scenes theme of this hour full circle, I thought that it might be great for you to meet some of the folks behind the scenes at some of the events at the moth. Here are a few folks that work tirelessly capturing elements of the show or working behind a screen to make sure the moth flies smoothly. My name is Katie, and I've worked at The Moth for almost two years now.

I've worked as a volunteer, a production intern, and most recently a production coordinator. I really enjoy, you know, when we first arrive to our venues before we start setting up for the show, before any of the audience comes in, and all of our, like, crew and our host are coming and slowly trickling in. and there's just this moment where everyone is catching up and saying hi and like giving hugs and everyone's excited to see each other and it just feels so wonderful. My name is Norika Okabe. I'm an audio recording engineer and I've been working with the moth since 2008.

Mostly I'm listening to the quality and other technical details but I can't help get sucked into the story. I cry with them, I laugh with them, I hold my breath. I love seeing the audience get raptured into the story, and sometimes you can hear a pin drop in the space. I love seeing and feeling the sense of oneness, their eyes glued to the storyteller.

I think the whole night is an experience. To see everyone involved, and the audience looks satiated at the end of the night is awesome. And I say this all the time, but nothing beats live events. Hi, my name is Joe Delceno, and I've been a freelance videographer for The Moth for just over 17 years. There are a few goofy phrases or anecdotes I heard at the Moth that have kind of become ingrained in my mind. Every time I take a piece of cheese out of the fridge, I think about the answer that storyteller Jesse Klein gave to the introductory question, what is one piece of wisdom you learned from your

parents? She answered, my mom always told me, if you have some moldy cheese, cut off the mold, you can still eat the cheese. When I go to the shows, I look forward to the variety of stories I'll hear. Getting a little tour through life in general, including the lives of others, and really random and unpredictable ways. It's one of the aspects of the moth I think is really unique. Hey, my name is Peter Cooper, and I've been a photographer for the moth for over six years. One moment that really stands out for me was when I was photographing a main stage matinee, which is designed to introduce high school students to the moth and the art of storytelling. While I was editing these photos, one particular photo really,

touched me. It was some students in the audience who were in this state of awe and wonder while they were watching the storytellers. Let me give a shout out to my mom. Back in college, I hesitated to buy a $100 flip camera for a course, but she insisted on getting it for me. That $100 investment turned into my career. So thanks, Mom. As always, it's a pleasure and an honor to photograph for the moth, and I take it as an extreme privilege to be able to help document you wonderful storytellers. And that's it for this episode of the Moth Radio Hour. Thank you to our storytellers and all the moth staff and crew for sharing with us and to you

for listening. I hope you'll join us next time. This episode of The Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, and J. Powell, who also hosted and directed the stories in the show. Co-producer is Vicki Merrick, associate producer Emily Couch. Additional Grand Slam coaching by Jennifer Hickson. The rest of the Mawth's leadership team include Sarah Haberman, Christina Norman, Sarah Austin, Janice, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Marina Cluchet, Leanne Gully, Suzanne Roe. Rust, Brandon Grant, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Casa. Special thanks to the staff that was in this hour.

Katie Glasser, Noriko Okabe, Joe Delceno, Peter Cooper, and Lauren A. Gaye for helping us out. Moss stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers, or theme music, by the drift, other music in this hour from Galt McDermott, Spadometer, Ariel Besant, Duke Levine, and William Tyler. We receive funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Moth Radio is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. Special thanks to our friends at Odyssey, including executive producer Leah Reese Dennis. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.

Thank you.