The Moth - Grit and Gumption: The Moth Radio Hour

Episode Date: October 14, 2025

This episode originally aired on December 7th, 2021. In this hour, courage, tenacity, spunk! New opportunities, self-confidence, and parents going the extra mile (or rollercoaster) for their kids. This episode is hosted by Moth Senior Curatorial Producer, Suzanne Rust. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by The Moth and Jay Allison of Atlantic Public Media. Storytellers: Pamela Mitchell learns to put her opinions first.  Javier Morillo and his family hold true to their cultural traditions. David Levy faces his fears for his son.  Annalise Raziq's daughter makes an unexpected wish for her birthday. Podcast # 741 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 the best tapas in town might be in a new town altogether. That's the powerful backing of Amex. Terms and conditions apply. Learn more at Amex.ca. My Annex. This is the Moth Radio Hour, and I'm Suzanne Rust. This hour features stories about gumption. Gumption.

I love that word. It is variously defined as the intelligence needed to know what to do and courage and strength of mind. And that is what our stories today all have in common. We'll be hearing from a woman who learns that the only person she needs to please is herself, a young man standing up for who he is, a dad conquering his fears, and a mother learning a little magical thinking from her daughter. Let's start our tales of fortitude with Pamela Mitchell,

who shared this chapter of her life back in 2003 in New York City. Here's Pamela live at the mall. In 1964, three weeks before I was born, the Civil Rights Act was passed, and my mother was glad that her daughter would never know a world where she wouldn't be able to go into a restaurant or a theater or use a bathroom just because she was black. That same year, my grandparents, who were lifelong Baptists, converted to Catholicism. They wanted... Yes, that's right.

They wanted their younger children and their grandchildren to have access to a better education, which in their mind meant Catholic, because education was the way to a better life. So I spent 16 years in Catholic schools. And I was very studious and serious, and in fact, I wanted to become a librarian, which, you know, in those days, was like being a nun for lay people.

But, you know, thankfully, I came to my senses on that one. But still, you know, I had a very, very lonely childhood. You know, I didn't have any friends. There weren't any other blacks in my classes. But one day, the most popular girl in school, Amy Russo, invited me to come to her house after class, and I was so thrilled, and I ran home to my mother, and I said, Mama, Mama, Amy asked me to come over after class,

and can I go? Can I go play? And she said, yes, yes, you can go. So she took me over there, and she dropped me off, and I was all thrilled, and Amy and I were playing, were playing and I was having so much fun. And I thought, oh my God, maybe I have a friend now. And so after about an hour, Amy said, well, you know, let's go down the block and play at Betty's house.

And I said, OK, great, let's go. So we left and we started walking down the block. And we got down to Betty's house. And Amy turned to me and she said, well, you can't go in. Betty's father doesn't like blacks. So you have to stay out here. And she left me standing on the curb. Unfortunately, it wasn't much better with the black kids in my neighborhood.

They used to make fun of me because I spoke proper English. So I pretty much kept to myself. But when I was 18, I got accepted to college. And not just any college, I got accepted to Harvard. And this was an amazing thing for me and my family. They were so proud. I mean, my grandparents had barely gotten out of grade school. And here their granddaughter was going to not

not only to college, but the most prestigious college in the country. And I was the first, the first person to do this in our family. But we didn't have very much money, so my mother made a list of things that I would need to go to school, like a dorm refrigerator, dish towels, a typewriter, which will tell you how old I am. And a family meeting was called. And all my aunts and uncles came together, my grandparents, and they all took something off that list and bought it for me to send me off to school. But they were worried because

I was going so far away from home, so they had some advice for me. My grandmother was pretty blunt. She said, girl, you better keep your eyes on a book and those legs shut. Thank you, Granny. My mother said, Pamela, you know as a black woman, you're going to have to work twice as hard to be taken seriously, so don't think think you can fool around like the rest of those girls. So off I went with all their advice and love and support and pressure. And I worked hard for those four years, and it was tough, but I finished. And on that graduation day, when I stood there with my mother and my sisters, I said,

you know, this is so great. I have accomplished this not just for me, but for my family too. And maybe now that I have this Harvard degree and it's on my resume, no one can take it away from me. I don't have to work so hard to prove myself. So I chose my graduate school based upon the fact that I don't have to work so hard to prove myself. And I decided to go to the American Graduate School of International Management, also known as Thunderbird, in Phoenix, Arizona. Now, given its location and its specialization, they barely saw any black students, much less one from Harvard, but that didn't stop me.

I was going. So I go to registration and I'm standing in line and I'm watching all the students and they're going up, handing their transcripts over to the professors and they're just checking it off and they're getting their class waivers and, you know, registering and going off. And this is all being routine. Everybody's handing, check, move, check, move, check, move.

And I'm thinking, great, no problem. So I work my way through line and I get to the front of the line and I hand the statistics professor my transcript and he takes a look at it and he starts looking at it and looking at it a little more. And I'm saying, well, you know, is there a problem? And he says to me, well, is this your transcript? And I said, yeah, this is my transcript.

You went to Harvard. And I said, well, yeah, I did go to Harvard. He looks at it and he says, well, says here that you got an A minus in statistics. But how do I know you really know statistics? And then he asks me, define for me sample space. And I just froze. I'm sorry, I'm drawing a blank.

Well, it's clear to me that you don't really know statistics, so I'm not giving you a waiver, and he shoves the sheet back at me. And I said to him, well, I'm sorry I couldn't come up with the answer off the top of my head, but I'm responsible for this knowledge, so I'll review my notes before class. But the rules say that if I have a B or better in statistics that you're supposed to waive me from this intro class.

And he says, well, I don't care about the rules. You haven't proven to me that you know this subject, so I'm not waiving you. And with that, I was dismissed. It took a trip to the dean of students, as well as the chair of the department, in order for me to get that waiver. And although I made a formal complaint against that professor,

the lesson was clear. Doesn't matter that you have a transcript from Harvard. You still have to prove yourself. So I left and graduated. came to New York and began my standard resume building career, although because it was me, it had to be the gold standard, of course. And so I worked on Wall Street for five years and decided I wanted to change into entertainment.

So I was talking to all the right companies, ESPN, Bravo, Nickelodeon, but Playboy made the best offer. It was the best title and the best title. money and well you know the most interesting job so I took it and in 1998 I became vice president of International for Playboy.com and interesting it was and dealing with clients was very different too you know part of my job was to tell them what they could do under the brand in their local overseas markets and you know at Discovery Channel this was mostly just telling them what animals they

could have on the video box art Not a big deal. But at Playboy I get these calls from my Dutch client, Pamela, Pamela, you know, we need hotter content on the site. You guys, you're so puritanical in the U.S., but we're not that puritanical over here in the Netherlands, so we need hotter content. Now, for those of you who don't know,

like all that weird shit porn that's on the internet, most of that comes out of the Netherlands. So I understood their need for hotter content. But, you know, I have to say, you know, I enjoyed my job, you know, I had a good time. And I took that job just as seriously as I had taken all the rest of my jobs. But unfortunately, the rest of my world, they didn't have that same attitude. You know, my mother, she didn't tell anybody where I worked for the first two months. And my grad school roommate didn't matter that this was a.

an amazing job title and all that other stuff. She said, and I quote to a friend of ours, I can't believe Pamela has sunk so low. And my sister, the born-again Christian one, well, she started praying for my lost soul. But the worst moment came when I went to an internet business conference. You know, I went up to the microphone during the Q&A session, and I stood up there and I said, you know,

Hi, I'm Pamela Mitchell, I'm Vice President of International for Playboy.com, and the audience started to laugh. And I looked out over these people laughing, and I was just humiliated like I used to be when the little kids would laugh at me when I was young. And I thought, oh my God, this job is the biggest mistake of my life. I have worked so hard to be taken seriously, and now people are laughing at me because, of where I work. Afterwards, I was still a little off, but I was waiting for to speak to the moderator. And a woman comes over to me, and she says,

Ms. Mitchell, Ms. Mitchell, can I talk to you? I'd like to ask you your advice. And I'm thinking, oh, God, thank God something, at least somebody wants to talk to me here. And this happened to me a lot, so I said, you know, sure, you know, I'm happy to help you. How can I help you? And she says to me, Ms. Mitchell, you know,

I've just started going to sex clubs, and I thought maybe you could help me out with this. I'd like your advice. And as I looked at her, and she's looking at me, expecting me to have an answer about this, all of a sudden I just started to get really pissed. Like, oh my God, this woman thinks that just because I'm a woman and I work for Playboy, that I'm going to know something about sex clubs. You know, and that professor at grad school, he thinks that just because I'm a black woman,

I can't have a transcript from Harvard. And all these people in my world who are all pissed off that I'm working for Playboy, well, they can't see past their own attitudes about this to know whether or not this is a right job for me. And all these people, none of them know me. And why am I working so hard to try and please all these people

when they don't know me anyway. So I said to that woman, I'm sorry, I can't help you. And I stayed at Playboy for three and a half years. And I did some very good deals for them. And to answer that question that I know you're all thinking,

yes, I've been to the mansion, and yes, I have met half, But that's another story. Thank you. That was Pamela Mitchell. Pamela is a former entertainment executive turned coach and the founder and CEO of the Reinvention Institute where she teaches strategies to navigate change.

I recently had a chance to talk with Pamela and I asked her a few questions. I love that your coaching business focuses on reinvention. So how did your career lead you to coaching and what have you learned about yourself through the work that you do? Well, I'd say that, you know, the Reinvention Institute, which is the company that I created when I left Playboy, is the company that I wished had existed when I wanted to make a reinvention in my corporate career and there was nothing there. That had been a big dream of mine to land a job on Wall Street. And then when I got there, about six months in, I realized that it was a very bad. fit. Personality-wise, I wasn't suited to Wall Street. But I stayed for five years because I had worked

so hard to get there. But eventually, I just couldn't take it any longer and I quit. So I went looking for something to help me figure out what to do next. And everything at the time was about climbing ladders in your current career. There was nothing about how to switch ladders. And so I had to figure it out by myself and I made a lot of mistakes. It was very difficult. And eventually, though, I figured out and made a switch into the entertainment field. And that was a great fit, you know, doing international business development for entertainment companies, negotiating overseas partnership deals right on point and loved it. But I felt that this idea of being able to switch careers, no matter what life threw at you, was an important conversation.

And nobody was having that conversation when I started this. But I felt the world needed to have that conversation and needed to be taught those skills. And so it was on me to do that. And so that's why I left and that's why I started doing this. And then, you know, with the crash in 2008, that's when the world sort of woke up and was like, oh, yeah, there are no more safe industries. Like that's an illusion. And so really the only safety is our ability. to take whatever situations life throws us and to navigate them into something that we want to have happen or a place that we want to be. Yes, so true. Perfect fit. Just the way you've illustrated each of those steps is just on point for your brand and what you've been in your story. It all ties into that, I think. And finally, you are right at the end of your story. We inquiring minds have to know. So you've met the man. You've been to the mansion. What was the most surprising thing about that experience. So, you know, Huff was already in his 80s when I came on the scene.

So he was doing what he needed to do to service the brand. But behind the scenes, he was hanging with his buddies, just playing cards, like any other 80-year-old man, you know? In a satin bathrobe. Yeah, in a satin bathrobe. But, you know, the mansion, it wasn't like this really fancy, schmancy place. It was like the heyday from the 70s. It's like your grandparents.

You go into their house and it's kind of. kind of in amber, like it was their best moment and don't change it from them. It was like that. Well, Pam, thank you so much for chatting with me. That was storyteller Pamela Mitchell. She lives in Miami with her husband and two rescue kittens. We're proud to say that Pamela was a moth board member back in the day, and we were so grateful to have had her. If you want to hear more of Coach Pamela's story or are interested in learning more about how to make some changes in your life, check out her new audible original called Mastering the Skill of Reinvention. To find a link to that, and see a photograph of Pamela, go to the moth.org.

Coming up next, a young man far from home holds on tightly to his identity when the moth radio hour continues. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. Last year, I noticed that my hair was a little thinner, and I hate to admit it, but bad hair days probably affect my mood more than they should. I started using Nutrafol, and about the three-month mark, I noticed that my hair just felt fuller and stronger overall. A confidence boost for sure. Nutrafol is the number one dermatologist-recommended hair growth supplement brand, trusted by over 1.5 million people. And you can feel great about what you're putting into your body.

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Starring Academy Award winner, Patricia Arquette, and Jason Clark. Watch the Hulu original series Murdoch Death in the Family, streaming October 15th on Disney Plus. You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Suzanne Rust. Today we're hearing stories about grit and gumption. Fresh out of college, I wound up living and working in Rome, Italy for almost 10 years. As an African-American woman, being in a place where I stood out so much

gave me a heightened sense of identity and pride in my heritage, one that I may not have noticed quite as much back at home, where I blended in a bit more. Sometimes being a fish out of water brings out your fierceness. Our next storyteller, Javier Morillo, shared such a revelation at the Fitzgerald Theatre in St. Paul, Minnesota. Here's Javier, live at the morning. My family's last Christmas in Germany in 1976 is etched in my memory as full of magic.

We were a Puerto Rican family living on a U.S. Army base in Germany. So I had not just Santa Claus and Christmas Day, but we also celebrated the German holiday of the Day of St. Nicholas on December 5th, where we did that by putting our boots out in front of our, the front door of our second floor. apartment and waited overnight to see if St. Nicholas would fill it with candy if we'd been good or lumps of coal if we'd been bad. It's very German. Make kids very anxious to celebrate the birth of our Lord. That year my parents friend Mr. Galarza also introduced me to Three Kings Day, the Epiphany. And so

that year for the first time I did what all all Puerto Rican kids do. I put under my bed a glass of water for the Three Kings to drink and a shoe box filled with grass for the camels. A week before, Santa had gotten a much better deal with milk and cookies. That year was our family's turn to host the big Puerto Rican Christmas party.

And what you should know about Puerto Ricans is that when we leave the island, wherever we are, we find each other. Every Boricua in Deutschland was in our second floor apartment. Mommy had prepared this great big feast of Puerto Rican food after arguing with German grocers over the right ingredients to make the food. She made pasteles, their quintessential Christmas meal. Bastellas, they look like tamales, but they taste very different.

They're not made of corn. They are made from green bananas and tubers. and tubers. And traditionally they are wrapped in banana leaves, but our pasteles were wrapped in aluminum foil. Because when you're a Puerto Rican mother in Germany, you make do. I didn't think this at the time, but this party

must have been expensive for my parents. And we were not at all wealthy by any stretch. My dad was enlisted in the Army. He had just a few short years before come back from his second tour of duty in Vietnam. where he had experienced the horrors of that war on the front lines. My parents had escaped poverty in Puerto Rico when he joined the army. But although I know now that we did not have a lot,

it never felt that way. Because Mommy made it her sort of goal and task always to ensure that we felt not just that we had enough, but that we had a lot. And not just at Christmas time. All year round she did this. And this fell on her. her largely because dad, because he was in the infantry, he was away for weeks at a time

doing military field exercises. So it was mommy who enrolled us for school, mommy who bought our school clothes. It was mommy who was called in for parent-teacher conferences. I remember when I started school, Mommy putting me on a school bus in Minds, Germany, in a little denim suit that she bought. I may have been five years old, but I knew that my bell-bottomed jeans and matching jean's jacket were cool. And I rocked that look. Mommy had sewn a patch over the left breast pocket that said,

me Sientoorgioso to be Puerto Rican, with our flag right in the middle of it. Puerto Ricans, we love our flag. I had no way of knowing that my kindergarten teacher, Ms. Robinson's only cultural reference for Puerto Ricans was most likely West Side Story. I must have looked to her like this little Latin tough, like in her head, she's thinking, boy, boy, crazy, boy.

And I got in a lot of trouble in kindergarten, which sounds weird because who gets in love in trouble in kindergarten? But Ms. Robinson called mommy in for a parent-teacher conference early in the school year to let her know that her son was willful, disobedient, and did not know how to pronounce his own name. Mommy was alarmed, Ms. Robinson says, I call him, I say Javier, listen to me, Javier, come here. I'm here. He just ignores me. Now, I had been fighting with her for a while, so when my mother explained to Ms. Robinson that she had just lost an epic battle with a five-year-old, my worldview changed.

Mommy and I laughed all the way home, and I learned a very important lesson that day. Adults are stupid. Like, I think now of all the times I got in trouble in kindergarten, I wonder if Ms. Robinson was a little bit racist. But after that parent-teacher conference, I was nobody's victim. Like, she might scold me, and I would just look at her, like, with pity. I was thinking, yeah, well, we already established that you are dumb. Later that same school year, Ms. Robinson pulled out a big map, and we're all army brats, and she helped us point out where everyone was from originally in their home states.

states. And on that particular map, Puerto Rico was this tiny little spec. And so all the other kids made fun of me for being from such a small place. When I told Mommy later, she was dismissive, don't pay attention to those kids. You know more than they do. You speak two languages. You have two cultures. They have one. And it was that lesson that really stayed with me forever. And I think maybe why I have such vivid memories of this period of my childhood, because my mother always did everything she could to ensure that we, that I felt not just like that we had enough, but we had a sense, it was a sense of abundance, and whether it was arguing with grocers to have all the right ingredients to prepare a feast, or ensuring that I never felt that

just because I was different from my classmates, that I was less than, in fact, that I was more than, it was that sense of abundance, not, you know, Santa or the three kings that added magic to my childhood. Thank you. That was Javier Morillo. Javier grew up on army bases in Texas, Germany, and Puerto Rico. He now lives with his husband John in the cold north of Minnesota. Javier says that the greatest gift his mom gave him was her constant insistence that being different did not make him less than others. It actually meant that he brought more to the table.

I asked Javier if he could say something to that teacher now, what would it be? I think I'd say thank you for, in the end, being a good sport about it all. Not long after that parent-teacher conference, I remember Ms. Robinson taught us all in a class lesson how to pronounce the letter J. and before I could even raise my hand to correct her, she added that sometimes a J can sound like the letter H. And she admitted to the whole class that she had been mispronouncing my name. My victory was complete.

To see photos of Javier and his family, and yes, he's wearing a cute little suit, go to the moth.org. Courage shows up on the battlefield, sure. But sometimes it also does. shows up in more humble places, like an amusement park. Our next storyteller, David Levy, shared this story at Cincinnati's Anderson Theater, where we partner with 3C. D.C. Here's David. Summertime, 10 years ago, was the most memorable summer of my life because of my son Tyson.

It was 2008, and he was eight years old. But it wasn't his age that. made that summer so memorable. It was his height. Because just prior to that summer, Tyson finally reached the height of 48 inches, which I can tell some of you recognize as the minimum height necessary to ride most of the adult thrill rides at King's Island Amusement Park.

We had been going to the park for two years, but for two years we were sequestered to the children's side of the park, shooting ghosts in the Scooby-Doo Haunted Mansion and riding rides with words like teacup and caterpillar in their name. The other side of the park is the ride warrior's side. This is the side the commercials promise is where the awesome is at. And we would venture over there from time to time,

but the only thing that we could do there was for Tyson to measure himself against the, you must be this tall line and repeatedly come up short. So if the summer of 2008 was my most memorable summer, by far the most memorable day, was the first day that we went to the park that summer, me, and my 48-inch-tall son. As soon as we entered the park, we made an immediate B-line for the closest rides to the entrance

that we knew Tyson could now ride. And that's what brought us face-to-face with the extreme flyer. Now, in case you're not familiar, this ride reminds me of the St. Louis Arch. Up to three riders can ride at once, each wears a harness, to the back of which is attached a cable. The other end of that cable is attached at the top of the arch, 150 feet in the air. 17 stories.

The riders are then bound together, and then a crane drags them backward and up into the air until they are even with the top of the arch and facing the ground. This is about where we came in that day, and we watched as the attendant gave the riders the thumbs up. This was their cue to pull the rip cord, releasing them from the crane, causing them to free fall until the cables to their harnesses went taut and they began to swing like a pendulum down through the arch out over our heads and into the air like they were flying. This is the first ride we see when we get to the park that day.

And when Tyson sees it, he says, I want to ride that one! So full confession, I'm not a big fan of thrill rides. In fact, I'm utterly terrified of them. Whenever I've gone to an amusement park with friends, they would have to goad me all day long to ride even one. And if I did, it was only with knuckles white from clutching whatever safety device I had at my disposal.

And then to keep myself calm, chanting my favorite mantra over and over in my head, competent engineers designed this ride. Competent engineers designed this ride. And if that didn't work, this ride has been operated thousands of times safely before now. Over and over until the ride was over, and I could begin to put the unpleasantness behind me. This was my history with thrill rides. So he's pulling on my arms saying, let's go, let's go, but I'm paralyzed in place,

and I'm wondering how it is possible that I could know that this moment has been coming for two years, and yet I'm still entirely unprepared for it. And so I swear it was just a stall when I said, I don't know, Tyson, that ride looks kind of scary to me. But then, God bless him. Just because Daddy said so, he agreed. He looked at the ride, and I heard him say, yeah, that does look kind of scary.

And his shoulders dropped, and his eyebrows wrinkled, and I don't know exactly how to describe what two years of enthusiasm and anticipation that's about to bust out of an eight-year-old boy's body looks like, but whatever that is, it had been there a minute ago, and now it was gone, and that was because of me. I know that fear is not a genetically inherited trait, but I just witnessed how it could be handed from one generation to the next. But in that moment, and I knew I only had a moment, the only thing I could think to do to prevent from handing my fears off to him, was to swallow than myself. So I took a deep breath, and I said, yeah, that ride does look kind of scary,

but it looks like a fun kind of scary. Let's do it. So the thing about this ride, most of the rides in the park have a harness that holds you in. This ride is the harness. And as the attendant was attaching the cable to the back of mine, I looked at the time. I looked at the time. top of the arch where the other end was attached. And I remember thinking, that's a lot of cable for something to go wrong with. So I start looking around for a clipboard with a piece of paper on it, the kind of thing you might see in a public bathroom, just some sign that somebody's been around recently to inspect this thing.

No clipboard. And then the scissor lift, which is holding up the platform that I didn't even realize we were standing on begins to lower. And now we're attached to the arch, so we're not lowering with it. And pretty soon we're on our tiptoes, and then the platform goes lower still, and we fall forward so that we're hanging horizontally by these cables. And this was unexpected, so Tyson laughs, and I scream, because that's what I do.

And then the attendant binds our legs together, and he comes around in front, and he takes our inside arms, my right, Tyson's left, and he wraps them around each other at the elbow. And he says, whatever you do during the entire ride, do not unhook your arm. arms. So I'm starting to sweat and I grab my wrist because I am not letting go of Tyson's arm. And I hear Tyson yell, yeah, just some question I hadn't heard asked. And the next thing I know, we're being dragged backward and up into the air by the crane. So I close my eyes for a moment, but then I'm like, no, you know what? Live or die, I am only writing this ride once. So my eyes are open when I get to the top and I'm inspecting the ground.

for any sign of an imprint in the shape of a body. And I hear, hey, and it's the attendant, and I'm like, what do you want? And he's giving me the thumbs up. So I look at Tyson to see if he's ready, and who am I kidding? He's been ready for two years. So it's up to me.

I pull the rip gourd. And I forget that the ride starts with us free-falling, so I'm thinking, we're dead. And then it occurs to me that my mantra, that this ride has been operated thousands of times safely before now, has a serious flaw in it, because of course things work until they break. That's what breaking is. So I am at the peak of terror when our cables go taut and we drop into that swing, speeding

downward, and if you believe Wikipedia, hitting 67 miles an hour, and coming within six feet of the ground as we pass through the arch and fly. And Tyson screaming with excitement, and I'm screaming with terror, and I'll admit, maybe a little bit of excitement. And then we swing back and forth again, but not quite as high, and back and forth

again, and still not quite as high. And I'm finding myself a little disappointment that we're not getting the lift that we did on that first swing. So when the ride is over and Tyson yells, that was awesome, I'm like, that was awesome. I mean, I'm shaking all over, but that was awesome.

And then he points at the next ride. Drop zone. Only the tallest ride in the park. So we ride that. And then the Italian job, which almost gives me whiplash. And then Top Gun, which has us swinging around, narrowly avoiding trees. And after each ride, Tyson's like, awesome, awesome, awesome. And I'm having a good time, but I don't know how much more of this I can take.

My mantras are becoming useless to me, becoming desensitized to them. So thank God, it's 10 o'clock at night. There's only time for one more ride before the park closes. And we're getting into the front seat of the vortex. You know it. It's a roller coaster, and I inspected it before we got in, and it occurred to me that for all of the swinging and the dropping and the flailing about that I've had to endure this day, I had yet to be on a ride that would turn us upside.

down. The vortex would do that to us six times. So I'm in pre-panic mode when the ride begins, and then all of a sudden, boom, explosion, the nightly fireworks, they set up to signal the closing of the park go off, and they're happening right in the sky in front of us. So as we're climbing that first ascent going way above the tree line, at a moment at a time when I really should have been in full panic mode, instead we're going to gawking at the fireworks, so that I barely recognize when we crest the top of the hill. And it's not until we're plummeting down that first drop, which is going to take us into the first two loop-to-loop, that it occurs to me, oh my God, my wallet, my key is Tyson, could I save all

three? But those competent engineers in their physics have made sure we're sitting snugly in our seats. so that the only thing there is to think about when we're upside down for that very first time is how those fireworks, which a moment ago had been firing from the ground up, now looked like they were firing from the sky down. And that was pretty incredible.

And there were two loops in a row, so we got to look at that twice. And the rest of the ride was just a blur of screaming and laughter until it came to that short stop that roller coasters do. But then the fireworks finale played out right in front. of us. It was glorious. So when we got off the ride and Tyson inevitably yelled what I knew he would yell, what he had yelled after every ride we'd ridden that day, for the first time that day, I was absolutely certain that he was correct. That was awesome.

of a storytelling show in Cincinnati called True Theater that he says was 100% inspired by his love of the mall. Tyson is now 21, and although David says that their amusement park days are mostly behind them, he admits that that day not only cured him of his fears of adventure rides, but turned him into a fan. And while that great adventure didn't necessarily make him more fearless in other areas of his life, David says spending time with Tyson on the parks help them form a special bond. To see photos of David and Tyson on their big day, go to the moth.org.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. Our common nature is a musical journey with Yo-Yo Ma and me, Anna Gonzalez, through this complicated country. We go into caves, onto boats, and up mountain trails to meet people, hear their stories, their poetry, and of course, play some music. all to reconnect to nature and get closer to the things we're missing. Listen to Our Common Nature from WNYC, wherever you get podcasts. Get ready for an unforgettable evening of storytelling as winners of our Open Mic Story Slams

compete for the ultimate title of Grand Slam champion. You'll hear 10 incredible true stories from your city's most compelling voices, all vying for the crown in one epic night, of competition. Join us in Brooklyn at the Music Hall of Williamsburg on Thursday, November 13th. You can get tickets now at the moth.org slash NYC. That's the moth.org slash NYC. This is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Suzanne Rust. Some people are so steadfast in their ability to manifest what they want in life that they almost seem to conjure it up. Our final story is a perfect

example of that. Annalise Razique told us at the main stage in Chicago, where we partner with WB.E.Z. Here's Annalise. I told my daughter to make a wish. We were sitting together in our tiny ramshackle kitchen, staring at the seven birthday candles on her cake. She closed her Cindy Lou Who eyes for just a second, and then she blew out these candles with great determination, and she said, Mommy, do you want to know what I wish for? And I said, oh, no, honey, that's something precious for you to hold close to yourself. But the truth is, I was afraid of this wish because her father and I had been separated for the last four years, but we had only recently become officially divorced.

And I knew that Kaylee was at the age now where a lot of kids started saying, how come you're not together anymore? And they started making wishes that their parents would get back together. And this wish was especially problematic because my daughter was born with a special talent. She had the ability to materialize what she envisioned. So, okay, here's just one example. So a couple years before, my mom was taking us on a trip to Disney World. world. And we had to get to the airport at the height of rush hour. And I was freaking out about this

because in our crappy neighborhood, cabs were notoriously unreliable. And so I had called this limo company and I had negotiated this deal where we could get a town car for only $5 more than I'd pay for a cab. So Kaylee heard me on the phone with them. When I hung up, she's like, oh, are we going to get to ride in one of those really long cars? And I was like, oh, no, honey, we're just getting a regular car. And she just looked at me and she's like, okay. So the morning that we're supposed to leave, she's at the living room window, and she's like, Mommy, Mommy, look. And I go look out the window, and pulling up in front of our house is the longest black stretch limo I have

ever seen. And this guy getting out like in the full chauffeur regalia, and I went running out the front door, and I was like, no, no, no, no. I did not pay for this. No, there's some mistake. And he's like, just chill out, lady. We're out of town cars, so you get this car for the same price. Right. Kind of a little bit scary. So we drive to the airport and Kaylee drinks soda the whole

way and watches cartoons and she's got this little smile on her face. But this wish is really a problem because I know that it's never going to happen. We're never getting back together and I thought, oh, at the tender age of seven, her magical powers are about to come to an end. But she presses on and she's like, Mommy, I wish for the same thing every year. And I was like, oh, you know, feeling this tightness in my stomach. She goes, I close my eyes, and I wish, and I wish, and I'm feeling ill. And I know that one day I'm going to open my eyes, and there it'll be. What?

In the backyard. And I was like, oh, a dog. She's wishing for a dog, and I knew she wanted a dog. But, you know, I was raised with cats. I'm an animal lover, but a dog seemed like a lot of work, and I didn't have any money. Our phone was turned off regularly at this point. and the gas, and I was just like a woman living on the edge. But her powers are legion, because a month later,

God dang it, a dog shows up in our backyard. I'm not kidding. So she's home from school on the tail end of chicken pox, and she's standing in the backyard hula hooping, and I'm at the kitchen table working. I can hear the shh, shh, sh. And then it stops, and she comes to the, back door and she's like, mommy, there's a dog out here and he's staring at me.

And I was like, whatever, he's someone's dog, he'll go back home. I hear her go back out in the yard and I hear, shh, shh, and then it stops. And I get up, I go look out the back door. She's standing frozen in the backyard, holding this hula hoop, looking at this dog through the chain link fence. They have locked eyes. They are communicating. And I go out in the backyard and I run up to the fence and I see this dog, he's like

a medium-sized German Shepherd mix. And I was like, hey, are you a nice dog? And he's just sitting there, and his tail goes, thump, thump, thump. And then I see his ribs, and he's, like, painfully skinny. And I open the gate, and he comes, and he flops down on the patio. And I see Kaylee, she's starting to get that little smile. And I was like, no, no, no, no. We are not keeping this dog.

And I run in the house, and I call our vet. And I was like, look, this dog is here. He seems really nice. I can't handle it. I'm overwhelmed. I'm a single parent. I have no money. And so they take pity on me.

like, bring the dog in, we'll check them out, we'll help you figure out what to do. And as we're going to the car, Kaylee just quietly says to me, his name is Orbit because he was circling our yard. And I said, that's great, honey, we'll tell that to the people that we give him to. So we take him to the vet, they can see I am a crazed human being, and I call him back later on and they say, oh, he's been on the street a long time, but he's so sweet. Don't worry, it's going to be no problem finding him a home. We just have to put some ads in the paper and see if there's an owner. And back at home, Kaylee hand draws 20 found dog posters and makes me

take her around the neighborhood and hang him up. And for the next three days, I sneak into the bathroom and I call the vet and I'm like, how's he doing? And they're like, oh, he's so sweet. Everyone loves him. No problem. You don't have to feel guilty. He'll have a home. Except for on the third day, the vet text says to me, wait a minute, how? How'd you find this dog again? And I tell her the story, and she's like, what? You can't give away this dog? This dog came to you.

He's yours. So I go out in the living room and I go, put your shoes on. We're going to go get the dog. She gets that little smile on her face. Shazam, powers intact. Thank you. That was Annalise Razique. Annalise is a Chicago-based performer, writer, activist, and Grateful Mother.

Her creative projects have ranged from leading theater workshops with incarcerated women to playing the back of a dragon. Her most recent productions include The Solo Show I Know a Place about her relationship with her stepdad Bill, and she is currently working on a piece about her palace. Palestinian father. Annalise says that Kaylee's gift lets her know what is possible, and it's made her pay more attention in life in general.

She also realized that sometimes things come to you in ways you may not be expecting. If your focus is too narrow, you might miss the opportunity being presented. I asked Annalise if Kaylee was still manifesting things into her life, and no surprise, this is what she had to say. She continues to draw to her the things that she wants, but I think to other people, it just looks like luck. When she was in college, she discovered someone whose work she admired, and she told me that she wanted a life that looked like his. And now she not only has that life, but she also works with that person. And she did not actively seek him out. She was

interning somewhere after college, and he just walked into where she worked. and that was the beginning of their professional relationship. To see photos of Annalise with Kaylee and Orbit, go to the moth.org. If you have a story you would like to tell, you can pitch it by recording directly to our site, the moth.org, and leave us a two-minute version of your story. You can also call it in to 877-7-99-M-O-T-H. That's 877-7-99-66. We listen to every pitch, and sometimes we will call you back to hear more and develop your story for moth shows around the world.

Or we might just play your pitch on the radio. As you age, what it takes to make you feel real nervous excitement increases at the same time your ability to actually do those things declines. And when that ascending line crosses the descending line, that's when you are officially. old. So I thought it made perfect sense to push back that crossing by another year or so, by putting my reputation as a respected academic at risk, by entering my first bodybuilding competition this year at the age of 62. Now, most of my life, my looks were too nondescript to even consider such a thing, and my body tended towards the scrawny. But I've been fortunate to have never put on too much weight, still have my hair, and all my joints are good, and I've made weight training a part of

my life for some years now, while most of my would-be competition has fallen off into the ditches by this point. I think that at last my time may have arrived, so I set my sights on the Oklahoma Grand Prix of Bodybuilding. Only problem was they didn't have a 60-plus category, so I had to compete in the 50-plus category. Did I win? Of course not. Was I feeling true nervous excitement as I went out on that stage in my tiny red posing trunks? Oh, you betcha.

Remember, you can pitch us your story at the moth.org. That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time. And that's the story from The Moth. This episode of The Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, Catherine Burns, and Suzanne Rust, who also hosted The Hour. Co-producer is Vicki Merrick, associate producer, Emily Couch. The stories were directed by Leah Tao and Meg Bowles,

with additional Grand Slam coaching by Maggie. Sino. The rest of the Moss leadership team include Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin Janesse, Jennifer Hickson, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Clucce, Brandon Grant, Inga Glidowski, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Kaza. Our pitch came from Tom Spector of Oklahoma City. Most stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by the drift. Other music in this hour from Medeschi, Martin, and Wood, Hiddy Palmieri, Anott Cohen, the Ohio Players, and Mark Orton. We receive funding from the National Endowment for the Arts.

The Moth Radio Hour 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, The Moth, dot org.