The Moth - BFFs: The Moth Podcast

Episode Date: June 5, 2026

In this episode, three stories all about friendship - from how they can be there for you during challenging times, to a friend’s unconditional love, to The Gummi Bears. Don’t worry, we’ll get there. This episode was hosted by Chloe Salmon. Storytellers: Lauren Karch travels around the world with her friends to capture memories before potentially losing her hearing. When Valarie Walker comes out as gay, she worries about the impact on her closest friendship. Matthew Dicks makes a friend at a fast food restaurant. Podcast # 982 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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so you can hit the ground running. Bring it with SAP Grow, AI Cloud, ERP for any size business. How can working out your local Tims take you further? Sure, you can level up your team skills, you also get a chance to receive a Tim Horton's scholarship award. Ready for what's next? Apply today at careers.timhorans.ca. Welcome to the moth. I'm Chloe Salmon. There are so many stories about romantic love, which is fair, I guess. But I take your romantic love and raise you

a different relationship, one that can be just as fulfilling and honestly, sometimes even more so. friendship. I'm grateful for my friends every day because each and every one of them is a perfect, beautiful angel who supports me fiercely, but is also willing to give me an honest opinion about the new haircut I want to try out. Without them, I would be a lonely girl with a bowl cut I thought would look French, probably. In this episode, three stories all about friendship, from how they can be there for you during challenging times, to a friend's unconditional love, to the gummy bears. Don't worry, we'll get there. First up is Lauren Karch, who told this story at a main stage in Dayton, Ohio, where the theme was more than meets the eye.

Here's Lauren. Light at the Maw. So a couple years ago, I started to notice that people were sounding quieter to me, which did not track with world events. But only when I was on the phone and only when I had the phone to the right side of my head. And it wasn't like just that. I also noticed like I would get dizzy sometimes and sometimes I kind of felt like my head was underwater. So I held off, but eventually I made an appointment with like an ear, nose and throat specialist and got my hearing tested. And I found out exactly what I did not want to know, which was that at like 32, I was losing my hearing. But only on one side. And he sort of, my doctor started going through a list of like other tests I could try and possible diagnoses.

And I interrupted him and said, did I tell you my dad has Meneer's disease? And he looked at me, you know, like how you do when you're looking at the answer to a trivia. question. My dad lost his hearing completely within like 10 years of being diagnosed. So I knew that if I had the same deal, like the same thing could happen to me. You know, I'd probably lose the rest of my hearing on my right side and maybe both years, like within a few years or sooner or later or not at all. And usually I'm not like the kind of person who's like, oh, I got to know what's going to happen. Because I'm not picking the restaurant, okay? I'm not like a type A person, I do not have what the teens call main character energy.

But in this moment, like I wish that I did because there's not really a treatment for Meere's. So like you can take symptom stuff so I could do like short-term steroids to word off the vertigo. And my doctor told me to avoid caffeine and salt, which are like my two favorite food groups. So that weekend I visited my parents. And it's never like nice to start a conversation with, what if I end up like, you know, like, you know, like, you know, you, but that's basically what I did to my dad. And you told me, you know, a few things. He was like, there's all this assistive technology and like supportive community for people with hearing loss. Frankly, it's not a huge tragedy, not hear everybody all the time

in this economy. My dad's a very like, zen, very like, believes in a higher path kind of person. So that kind of brought me out of my like basement of depression. But a few months later, I was back at the same doctor's office because I kept getting these episodes of like room spinning vertigo, and my hearing was worse. So they retested me, and I was up to 80 decibels of loss in my right ear, which they have the little, like, dumb layman's term chart in the soundproof booth. So that means that on my right side, I can hear things that are louder than, quote, a lawnmower at close range, which is awesome.

And so I went home, and I got on Reddit like you do when you're looking up rare diseases. And I found this interview with an art. who also had Maneer's disease, and the interviewer had asked him, I thought it was such a good question. What sound do you miss the most? And he was like a poet or something. So he said, I most miss the soft sound of a cat laughing water because it sounds so satisfying for the cat. So I found myself then sitting on my living room floor sort of like sloshing a water bowl towards my increasingly disgruntled cat. And teradactyl, that's my cat's name. She was not satisfied.

She just looked at me like, I don't get paid enough for this. But the question had given me kind of an idea of something I could do to feel a little bit more in control. I thought I should make a list of everything I want to hear before I go deaf, in case I go deaf, like a playlist bucket list, right? Like, yeah, I probably can't afford to go to the Amazon rainforest right now, but I could leave the window open when it rains. And like, I didn't want the last thing I heard to be like a spam call or like, like myself repeating gossip, you know? And so when I saw a few days later that my favorite band was going to be in Cincinnati, I bought tickets right away.

I did not think about who I was going to take with me. But then I happened to go to Warehouse 4, my favorite coffee shop later. And yeah. And my friend Stacy was working. And Stacy is like the kind of person who was up for anything. Plus it was really swamped in there.

So it was the perfect time to entrap her with an invitation. And she agreed to go. And like, yeah, were we a little old to be at Bogarts under like the no-moshing sign? Yeah. So were the mountain goats, my favorite band from 2005. Yeah. And Stacy used to be a youth choir director.

So in exchange for me taking her to see a sad dad band, she asked me if I would want to go with her to see a children's production of cats, which, yeah. Like, I don't have time to wait for professionals to put on cats for me. And I realized, like, I could knock off a ton of kinds of music if I started going to, like, the free concerts put on by, like, the library and YSO. So, like, jazz in the park, jazz at the culture center, jazz with the library. There's a lot of jazz.

I got really into it. I accompanied my boyfriend, who was on his own journey, of trying to see every Boston sports team play in the Midwest. And I don't really like sports, but I did want to hear his accent being used for its intended purpose, which is cursing the red socks. And I started listening to my mom's favorite true crime podcast because I wanted to see if I, like her,

could learn to discern who was guilty based on the guilt in the murderer's voice. And kind of, yeah. But the biggest victim in all this was my best friend, Katie. I had told her about my hearing problems, but I didn't tell her about the playlist because it's insane.

But the problem is she's like, the perfect person, perfect man for the job. Because she is a theater person. We actually know each other from the theater because we came close, like, we became close in our rural high schools production of the soul musical The Whiz. And which is, because it was, it was from the before times.

And so we'd always kind of dreamed of like aging into being those like costume jewelry ladies who like have season tickets to the ballet. So I texted her. and I said, remember how we were going to become theater ladies? Like, what if we just do that now? And she just said, I thought you'd never ask. So we went, we went to the opera.

We went to all the Dayton Playhouse shows. And, like, the Broadway series when it came to town, the poetry slam. We went and saw that band that dresses like vampires. You guys, they just got a hearse. And it was great. Her younger coworkers wanted to go see Post Malone, and I was so into it that I not only got

a ticket to Post Malone, I bought us, like, wide-leg jeans so we wouldn't stand out among like the youths. And it was a great time. But I wanted to see this one really artsy play that was out of town. So we decided to go to that. And what I learned is there's a level of artiness that I do not get.

But that's OK. Like I still heard it. And we had a great hotel that I booked for a great price, because I did not notice that it was a micro hotel with bunk beds. So I'm laying in the top bunk. And I've realized, like, I brought Katie on so many goofy situations now. I have to tell her what I'm thinking. So I leaned over like I'm at camp. And I said, you're being a really good friend. And I spilled like everything. I told her

about how I was worried that I would go deaf and, you know, maybe I wouldn't be able to communicate with people that I care about and what about my job. And, you know, would I still be able to enjoy the things I enjoy now? And at that time, Taylor Swift had only put out the first Taylor's version album. And do I look like I want to miss that? And she said, okay, okay. I think you're a lot more resilient than you're giving yourself credit for. Also, I'd like to see you try to get rid of me, or any of your friends. And then she got like deadly serious and said, should we try to learn ASL because then we could talk about people in the same room?

And I am trying to learn ASL. I have made it through SOTOP. So, but a couple weeks later, Katie texted me because her mom had tickets to the Dayton Philharmonic, and like would I want to go with them? Of course, because the orchestra is classic theater lady, because it's fancy. So we got dressed up. You guys, we went to the spaghetti warehouse and Yeah, and and we came down we and it was at the Schuster so beautiful theater like the whole orchestra. It was so great But there was this one player in the orchestra that's a cello player that I noticed because like if I had to describe him

Unfortunately, hunky like just very tall very good looking and he was he had those protagonist vibes that I've always wanted like he wasn't just playing, he was performing. And I pointed him out to Katie and she said, oh, he's on the cover of the program and he was. It wasn't the whole orchestra. It was just like him and his cello and a fog machine. Like he's the front man for the Dayton Phil Harmonic. So we're like kind of laughing about this. And, you know, but the music's like really enthralling. It's really cool. It's a nice experience and I'm having fun with my two friends. And then it's over. We walk back to the arts garage where we all parked and get in our car. Katie's driving we like get to the garage exit and we're just hooting and hollering about how

funny we are and should we wait by the stage door and all this and like the garage like the arm thing lifts and she kind of guns it to pull out of the parking garage and then slams on her brakes because there in the middle of North Lublo and we're barreling right at him it's the hot cellist and he's got his cello on his back he's got his headphones in his ears he's on his own audio journey clearly and Katie's mom points straight through the windshield and screams, don't hit him. And at that moment, I realized, like, this

is something of a universal experience, really. Whether I go deaf or not, everyone's going to hear their last thing. And so now I get my hearing tested annually. And the last few times, like, yeah, I am pretty deaf in my right ear. But I always ask the tech, like, oh, is there any change? And she usually tells me no before the doctor even

comes in, at least the last two times, which is such relief. So I might still get to hear Reputation Taylor's version with my own natural ears. But I learned about a new way to connect with people. And I supported the shit out of the arts. And I learned that Dayton is like full of these big, bold, main characters, and there's still time to be one. So thank you guys. That was Lauren Karch. Lauren is a writer and local government employee, and she says, yes, it is just like Parks at Rec, in the happiest place on Earth.

the greater Dayton area. She tells stories in Dayton and encourages you to check out your local art scene. Also, if you were wondering, the hot cello player who Lauren talked about in her story heard through the grapevine that he was mentioned on stage. We hope you're listening, Hot cello player. The summer before my last semester of college, I had an internship in New York City. I knew it was going to feel very different from my Kansas college town, and I was scared. Enter Sean, a friend of a friend who had just graduated and was moving to NYC to start a new job. We made plans for a polite, lonely desperation meetup, which turned into us hitting it off in a real way and spending almost every free minute together that summer.

We got our bearings, stayed out late bar hopping and eating cheap food, and screeched in panic as his toilet overflowed and flooded his tiny studio while I shouted, how do you turn off water at my dad over the phone. A real bonding kind of summer. Almost 15 years later, I am no better at troubleshooting plumbing issues, and he is still one of my closest friends. Our next story is from Valerie Walker, who told it at a story slam where the theme was chemistry.

Here's Valerie, live at the moth. So on Sunday, I had a reunion with a woman that I went to college with. I hadn't seen her for 34 years. I know I look good. And the thing, you're probably wondering after 34 years, like, what do you care? I had actually been caring her in my heart for the intervening time. And we were an odd pair, for sure. We met in college a very impressionable time.

She was from a small town in Arkansas. I still had the grit from New York City in my pocket. She was artful with her makeup and painted on a natural looking face and smelled like beautiful perfume. And I smelled like a mix of soap and whatever moisturizer I was using. And so looking at us, you would think, like, what do they have in common? And I wondered that myself, but there was such, she was so kind. There was such a space that we created that was just joyful and very, very loving and super duper fun. And then I came out as a lesbian.

And one of the ways that I processed my internalized homophobia was I was suddenly scared that my really rich friendships with women were going to be called into question, that she would no longer be as affectionate or wonder, what was my motive for being affectionate back. And we had such a great relationship. Like, I don't know that song, I love you, a bushel on a peck, a bushel on a peck, I don't know all the words. But one day, she wrote that entire lyric on my door, like, as a note. Yeah, it was just adorable and very, very dope.

And we had this ritual where, like, when we would go to dinner, I would go to her room. She would change out of her fabulously stylish outfit. But she was shy. So she'd go into her walk-in closet. And then we would continue to talk while she changed. And when she was in the closet, her voice would be muffled like this. And then when she came out, it would be really clear.

And so one day I'm in her room and waiting for her to change. And I am playing with the stuff on her dresser. So I'm not really paying attention. Her voice went from muffle, muffle, muffled back to clear. And so I look up. Except she had changed the routine and had come out of the closet, not completely dressed. in her sweat pants and bra, and she was very easy on the eyes. Okay?

So now in that moment, I'm saying to myself, don't stare. You're staring. Oh, my God, look at her eyes. They're higher. And so I'm, you know, having a little bit of gay freak out. And so, but we regulated, went to dinner and everything got normal once everybody had their clothes back on. So, you know, super cool. And I, she was just really just a great person.

Our friendship was so enjoyable. And yet that's the casualty of being a lesbian, right? It's the chemistry. Women are so cool and dope. It's really. It's really easy to fall for you guys. It's just the hard part is finding out the appropriate person to fall in love with. And I'm not going to lie.

I slept with a few varying genders in college, meaning straight women. But she was not one of them. And then after college, we lost touch. And recently, she started following me on Instagram, and then more recently, DMed me that she was coming into New York and wanted to meet up. and I went to the place at the appointed time and I was super curious about how it would feel to see her again. I knew that she meant so much to me,

but I also understand that what means something to you doesn't mean the same to somebody else. And then suddenly she was in front of me and then she was in my arms and I was in hers and it was a great hug, long hug, a strong hug, One of those hugs where you just rock side to side. And then we stopped and we sat down and we caught up and we cried and we laughed and we held hands when shit was super hard to say. And it was really beautiful.

I could recognize it for what it was, a blinding, furious and beautiful love that it was absolutely okay to have. And that was not in any way base. And we're sitting there and I'm telling her that how much her friendship is meant to me. And then she flipped it and told me how much my friendship had meant to her. And that she's not nostalgic. And she doesn't even have any pictures from college. But she has two that she's printed out. And one of them is of me.

Yeah, I know, right? And so it was just so affirming in that moment to know that she was mine and I was hers. And if anyone ever asks me about the great loves of my life, she will be one that I talk about. Thank you. That was Valerie Walker. She is an activist, artist, and storyteller whose stories challenge perceptions

and build community through shared feelings. Survival as triumph and vulnerability as strength are key themes in her work. After the break, another story about how friends can stick with you. Back in a moment. Welcome back. Our final story is from Matthew Dix,

who told this at one of our open mic stories slams in Boston. Here's Matthew, live at the moth. I'm sitting in the break room of a McDonald's restaurant in Milford, Massachusetts. I'm eating an egg McMuffin, and I am not happy. It is the spring of 1987. I'm 16 years old, and it's not the egg macmuffin that's causing me to be unhappy because an egg macmuffin is the most guaranteed source of joy in my entire day. But not on this day.

I'm upset because I'm about to meet my mortal en. for the first time and I know what's not going to go well. I've been working at this restaurant for two months now. I actually live three towns away in Blackstone, Massachusetts, but I found out that this place pays $4.65 an hour, and that's 20 cents more than the White Hen pantry, five minutes from my house. And I figured even though it's a 30-minute drive,

the 20 cents will absolutely make up for the time and the gas, which it does not. But it changes my life in a really significant way, because when I arrive here, I discover the joy of a clean slate. I'm growing up in a tiny town. 82 kids are in my class, so the same 82 kids I knew in kindergarten, and they remember everything.

And so when you want to be something different or you decide you could be something better, no one lets you because they remember everything. They still talk about the time in sixth grade when I exposed myself to class because my gym shorts were a little too short and my underwear was a little too big. and it was a little too much

man spreading. They talk about it to this day. And they remember the braces and the buck teeth and the bad haircuts and the free and reduced lunches and all of that has prevented me from becoming something that I think I could be and being trapped in what they think I should be.

But I've arrived in this new town. Nobody knows me. And on the first day of work, Aaron Durand comes and asks me if I have a girlfriend and the way she's hoping I say no. And that's never happened to me before. So this is something. And it turns out that because they don't know me, I can be the thing I think I can be, and suddenly I have more friends than I've ever had in my life.

And I'm good at my job, shockingly good. In 1980s, the job at the McDonald's that is the hardest is running the bin. I have been a public school teacher for 24 years, and I can tell you that I have not had a day in my classroom as taxing as a day running the bin at McDonald's during rush hour in 1987. It is coordinating a kitchen full of 16-year-olds and 60-year-olds and convincing them all to do work for you at the same time and watching a drive-through screen and listening to cash registers

and figuring out how much food needs to be here at any moment without causing waste and making sure a profit. It's really hard, and for some reason I can hold all this information right here and I'm good at it and people respect me for it. But as soon as I got good at it, all I heard was one word, Benji. you're great but Benji's better. Benji's the best bin person in this restaurant. Actually, he's the best person in this restaurant.

He is fantastic and everyone loves him and everyone respects him. And I hate Benji. All they do is tell me how great he is. And with every single word, they say, I hate him more. And then I discover they're telling him about me. And they're saying how this guy came in and he might be better than you. They're spreading gossip about me to him. And so we have never met each other, but we hate each other.

And so this day we're coming together for the first time. Our shifts are crossing, and I'm going to meet him. And so I go out into the dining room at the end of my break just to see him because he's already working. And I see him, there's nothing to this guy. Like, he's not that good looking. He's not an athlete. He's got the body of a bass player in a failing high school rock band. He has nothing.

But I watch, and a couple minutes later, I realize I'm wrong because he's funny, effortlessly funny. and he's endearing to everyone. He makes the older customers who are waiting for Big Macs actually happy to be waiting for their Big Mac and the managers love him. And he's good at the bin. Like he is really good at calling Bin.

I hate him so much. And because he's doing my job, I have to run for drive-thru today, which is the second hardest job in the restaurant. 80% of the orders go through the window, so 80% of the food will pass through my hands. But that means I need to work with the bin guy the whole time to coordinate

and negotiate and make sure everything runs, which means I have to work with Benji. And so for the first hour, we don't talk to each other unless it's about work. And we clearly hate each other. We're not hiding it in any way whatsoever. But unless it has to do with work, I don't say a word. And then after an hour, it gets, like, awkward. And I start to think maybe he thinks I'm afraid to say something to him. So I'm like, no, I'm going to do something here.

And so I go up to him and I say, why are you coming in at 10.30 on a Saturday? What's 1030? and he says, I watch Saturday morning cartoons, which in 1986 is a thing. All the new cartoons, the Smurfs and the Snorks and Super Friends are all out in the morning, and we eat sugar disguised as cereal, and we watch these things.

And he says, the gummy bears start at 9.30, and they end at 10, and then I come to work. And he says it without irony or embarrassment. I can't believe it. And so I walk over to the drive-thru. I drop a bag off, and when I come back to the bin, I say, listen to me. dashing and daring, courageous and caring, faithful and friendly with stories to share.

And I take some food and I walk back to the drive-through. And as I come back over, he is singing before I get to the bin. He says, all through the forest, they sing out in chorus, marching along as their songs fill the air. And standing next to the bin with Benji, we sing together, Gummy Bears, bouncing here and there and everywhere. Everywhere. High adventure that's beyond compare. They are the gummy bears. There's a second verse, a bridge, and another chorus. I will not share them with you, but we sing them that day.

Because I watch the gummy bears too. And to this day, I can sing that song. And that's it. A single theme song to a cartoon melts all the ice between us. And 37 years later, He is still my best friend. It is the most significant relationship in my life, with the exception of my marriage. When I get thrown out of my house when I'm 17, Benji takes me in and lets me live in his college apartment. And when I'm 21 and I need a credit card and can't get one, he gives me his extra card and says, just use it and pay me when you can.

He saves my life again and again and again. And this day, we live in Connecticut two miles from each other. And when I think back on that day that I stood at that bin and sang a cartoon song to him, I'm reminded how little it takes to sort of reach out to someone and just open the crack of a window. And you just get the window open and then it becomes a door and it becomes a lifetime. Thank you. That was Matthew Dix. He's an elementary school teacher and novelist whose books include memoirs of an imaginary friend,

something missing, and unexpectedly Milo. He's the founder and creative director of Speak Up, a Hartford-based storytelling organization. Matt loves ice cream cake, tickling his children, staring at his wife and not sleeping. That brings us to the end of our episode. Thank you to our storytellers for sharing with us and to you for listening. We hope that this week and every week, your friends are there for you. Chloe Salmon is a director at the Moth. Her favorite Muff moments come on show days when the cardio is done,

the house lights go down, and the magic settles in. Lauren Karch's story was directed by Sarah Austin Janice. This episode of The Moth podcast was produced by Sarah Austin Janice, Sarah Jane Johnson, and me, Mark Salinger. The rest of the Moths leadership team includes Gina Duncan, Christina Norman, Marina Clucay, Jennifer Hickson, Jordan Cardinali, Caledonia Cairns, Kate Tellers, Suzanne Rust, and Patricia Orenia. The Moth podcast is presented by Odyssey.

Special thanks to their executive producer Leah Reese Dennis. All Moth stories are true, as remembered by their storytellers. For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story, and everything else, go to our website, the moth.org. Hey, y'all's Kelly Clarkson with Wayfair. Ever order furniture online and wonder what if? Like, what if it doesn't hold up? That sofa was four days old. You should have ordered from Wayfair.

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