The Moth - If the Shoe Fits: The Moth Radio Hour

Episode Date: December 2, 2025

This episode originally aired on February 2, 2022. 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 devoted to stories about footwear, walk a mile in another person's shoes. Every journey begins with a single step, and hopefully, some comfortable kicks. This episode is hosted by Moth Senior Director Jenifer Hixson. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by The Moth and Jay Allison of Atlantic Public Media. Storytellers: Edgar Ruiz Jr. needs new sneakers while visiting his father in Puerto Rico. Satori Shakoor dresses up for a job interview but doesn't really want the job.   Isabelle Raphael finds herself in a pinch when she drops her keys down the elevator shaft. Sufian Zhemetov is pulled into a discussion on religion while shoe shopping.  Stacy Miller's new daughter needs new shoes.   Munjen Ng and his classmate pursue careers in design. Podcast # 753 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

OMG yes.com is a website presenting groundbreaking research about women's sexual pleasure in partnership with Indiana University and Kinsey Institute researchers. When you see such an open, honest, evidence-based discussion of what feels good and why, it becomes obvious, that's how it should be. What if our generation breaks the cycle of shame and taboo once and for all, and everyone realizes pleasure is good, healthy, important, and endlessly fascinating? See for yourself at omg yes.com slash moth. That's omg yes.com slash moth. Get no frills delivered. Shop the same in-store prices online and enjoy unlimited delivery with PC Express Pass.

Get your first year for 250 a month. Learn more at pceexpress.ca. This is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jennifer Hickson. In this hour, stories about what you wear on your feet. How sad the world would be if all the shoes were sensible. Think about all the different kinds. Mary Jane's, wingtips, clogs, cleats, birkenstocks, loafers, stilettos.

You can tell a lot about a person and where they've been, and even sometimes where they're going, by what they're wearing on their feet. Our first story takes us from the Bronx to Puerto Rico and then back again. Here's Edgar Ruiz Jr., live from a show in Detroit, Michigan, where we partner with the Music Hall Center for the Performing Arts and Michigan Radio. Back in the summer of 1993, I was 12 years old living with my mom in the Bronx, New York. And she decided that she was going to send me back to Puerto Rico to live with my dad for the entire summer. You see, when wealthy kids act up, they probably get sent to boarding schools.

When New Yorkans act up, they sent us back to the island. I wasn't a delinquent or anything like that, but let's just say puberty was hitting me really hard. And my mama wasn't feeling me. She divorced my dad when I was two, and we left Puerto Rico shortly after for New York leaving him behind. As a child, I barely remember my pops. Like the earliest memories I have of him are long-distance phone calls for my birthday and sometimes on Christmas. Now you can say that the summer of 1992 started off on the wrong foot. Literally, the only pair of sneakers I took with me to Puerto Rico

were stolen out my suitcase at the airport. So I had to wear flip-flops in the mountains for a few days until my mom who was in New York forced my dad to get me some sneakers. Now this is probably a good time to let you know that at the age of 12, I was already six feet, one inch tall, 230-something pounds. and I wore a size 12 sneaker not a lot of size 12 sneakers

in the small town of Cabo Rojo, Puerto Rico where I'm from so after unsuccessfully walking out of three discount shoe stores in town without a sneaker my dad was heated he knew he was going to have to take me to the mall and actually spent some money on me He was mad.

Not me though. I was excited. I'm a true city kid. We love sneakers in the hood. On my block, what you wore on your feet represented where you were at in the food chain. You wore some busted looking kicks. Mm-mm.

The kids were gonna eat you alive. So when we got to the mall, I went straight to the Nike section. section, picked out some Air Force ones, bought them back to my pops. My dad had a serious face on. He looked at the sneakers. He looked at the price. Then he looked at me, and in Spanish, he said, no. He told me to get something cheaper. So my next logical step were to get some rebounds for like $29.99.

But before I could even get to him, he was shaking his head emphatically. By then I could see the frustration on his face. And I barely knew this guy, so it was kind of intimidating. I gave it rather quickly and I allowed him to pick out whatever sneaker he wanted. Now I don't really remember the name brand of Sneaker. He chose, because I think I repressed it. But I'll never forget how ugly these sneakers were. They were like a topish, tannish, grayish, brownish.

And they were complete knockoffs of the Reebok pumps. Y'all remember the pumps? They had a little wall on the tongue. Your sneaker would fill up with air. old sneakers was so dope. These tope knuckles were not.

They cost them $13.99. And I was so disappointed. He didn't buy me those Nikes. I was 12 years old. So him not getting me those sneakers obviously meant to me he had no love for me.

I was gossiping with my mom on the phone that night. and I was telling her my dad is so cheap mom I promise you when I have my own kids I'm gonna buy them the most expensive sneakers

that I could afford to show them that I love them those are lies now my two and five year old one some sneakers they better get a job Even though my dad didn't have love for me, I definitely had love for my father.

So much so that I actually fell in love with those ugly sneakers just because he bought them for me. And when I got back to New York, I literally wore those things to they ripped apart. people made fun of me for wearing them things I didn't care my dad gave me those sneakers

and my dad never really gave me anything those ugly things hugging my feet were the closest I was going to get to a hug from my dad and I held on to them as long as I could after that trip I went once or twice as a kid but then I took a long

hiatus from Puerto Rico I didn't go back to I was nine By then I was a high school graduate, college sophomore actually. I was working, so I had a little bit of money in my pocket. So I went back to Puerto Rico wearing main brand everything. It was the early 2000s. So I was rocking them shiny Sean John shirts. Super baggy, Pelle Pelle jeans.

But most importantly, I was rocking Jordans. Not just any Jordans either. We talk about the shiny patent leather, Air Jordan 11s. If you don't know anything about sneakers, just know that the Air Jordan 11s are on top of the food chain. I was showing off. I was trying to show my dad the man that I was becoming without his help. But I realized a few things on that trip. I realized that I was completely wrong about my father.

My dad wasn't cheap. He was just struggling. He lived most of his life, living paycheck to paycheck. I looked it up. Minimum wage back in 92 was like $5.25. If he was lucky to be making that in the factory. So those 1399 that he spent on them ugly sneakers, must have been like half a day's work for the dude.

And I was embarrassed. And I was humbled. But it was that trip at 19 that I finally laid the foundation for a relationship that I always wanted with my dad. And the more I got to know about him, the more I got to know about myself. Ironically, several weeks prior to that trip, I wrote this psychology paper on Nature versus Nurture. And when I wrote that paper, I was on the side of nurture because I thought I was a product of my mama, a product of the streets of New York. York. But then I got to know my dad, and I realized I had a lot more of Cabo Rojo Puerto Rico coursing through my veins. And it was scary. I wasn't raised with this guy,

but there we were, like in the same types of music and movies, personal philosophies that we shared, little things from the way we signed our names the same, to even the type of girls we liked. All of them. You're like, mom. It was scary. It was like looking into a mirror for the first time and seeing your reflection. I love my dad.

Last summer, I finally allowed him to be my father. Now, I want to tell you things have gotten better for the guy, but we've probably seen some of the news coming out of Puerto Rico. Political unrest, earthquakes, Hurricane Maria and that was before the pandemic but my dad is a survivor

and he does what he has to do to make ends meet and I try to do as much as I can for him but he's one of these prideful Puerto Ricans that rather live in the house with half a roof and no power than to take a hand out but I do what I can I have to

he's a part of it not too long ago we were hanging out I was on vacation and I noticed that his sneakers was looking run down. Like I seen better sneakers hanging off power lines in the hood. So I tricked him. Took him to the mall. The same exact more he took me to when I was 12.

And I told him pick out whatever sneaker he wanted. And I felt like a 20-minute argument because he's hard-headed. like me. He finally picked out a $20 pair of no-name brand sneakers. And I turned to him

and in Spanish I said no. That day, my dad walked out with a fresh pair of Nikes. And I know he loved them. But not as much as I love those old old tope knock-offs.

Thank you. That was Edgar Ruiz, Jr. Edgar's a proud New Yorkan, born in Cabo Rojo, Puerto Rico, and raised in the Bronx. These days, he lived in Westchester County, New York, with his wife and kids. He's restoring their old house

that he says might be haunted. Edgar also does stand-up comedy and has an impressive sneaker collection. His favorites are Nike Air Trainers. S.C. A.K.A. the Bo Jackson. His feet are now a size 15, so he hasn't been able to get them in every single color yet, but that won't stop him from trying. To see a picture of Edgar with his father that first summer and a picture of them together now, visit the moth.org. Our next story is from Isabel Raphael, who told it out of

Story Slam in New York City, where WNYC is a media partner of the month. Here's Isabel. Thanks. So I just went to New York, 2011, summer. I didn't have a job. I didn't have any friends. I didn't know what I was doing, but I was, I have a lot of laundry. So I spent the days kind of going up and down the elevator.

to the laundry department downstairs. And one of these days, I was kind of going back up in the elevator, swinging my keys around my fingers, and the keys, as if by magic, dropped down the shaft between the doors and the elevators. So I heard them kind of clank, clank, clank, clank, clank, down the shaft to the bottom. And I just kind of stood there.

I was like, my God, I have no wallet, no phone, no keys. I don't know anyone. I had no, I did not know my neighbors. I had no bra on. And I had no shoes. And I was so hungry. I basically was dead in New York. I had no idea what to do.

So as I sat there just thinking about my death, I remember that my sister building had a, like, a doorman. If I knew anything about doorman, that they had keys to every single apartment. So I was like, okay, all I had to do is walk 13 blocks without shoes. I can totally do this. It's summer. I'm Australian. I love no shoes. So I started the walk, and the minute I started the walk, I thought, I was like, A, 13 blocks

is actually really long way. The people in New York kind of love to yell out feedback on the street. A total of like four cars, I think like yelled out, you don't have any shoes on! Like, yeah, I know, I was twirling my keys around me. They fell down the elevator. And at one point, a homeless man kind of shuffled along next to me and, like, whispered in my ear, you're going to regret this. I'm like, oh, God.

Um... So, eventually I get to the door and the guy, kind of shrieked about lacquer shoes. I was like, yeah, I was swinging around. And he's like, well, actually, I do have the keys. So I can take you back, but I need to piggyback you because I don't think you can walk without shoes. I'm like, oh my God.

I'm not like a get on your shoulders at the band kind of girl. Like I don't like jump over fences. So it's like, what, how do you, like, how do you even, like, get on someone's back? So I was like, I, like, started really far away and, like, grow, like, kind of, like, plop myself onto his back. To his horror, I'm sure. But, um, so we started the long way back, and I kind of, I don't like to piggyback in awkward silence. So I was, like, chatting away. like how not very good about getting on people's backs.

I'm like I was really lonely in the city and I just moved here. All the way I'm like slipping like lower and lower on his back until my feet were just kind of dragging along the ground. So eventually I got back to the house and he let me in and then a few days later I come home and there's a little bag on my door with my keys which he fished out and a pair of like pink, the spangled child slippers, I guess he totally got my sail and a little note that said for next time. Is that okay?

That was Isabel Raphael. Isabel is a creative director. She says she wishes she could say that she only got locked out of that apartment without shoes the one time, but no. Eventually, she started hiding a key elsewhere in the building. Laundry room, anyone? So she never had to walk that far.

Isabel now lives in Austin, Texas, where she can enjoy barefoot walks in her backyard as much as she likes. When we return, a woman needs some great shoes for a job interview, and a recent immigrant gets shoe style advice from an American friend. That's when the Moth Radio Hour continues.

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. Hey, it's Christopher Kimball from Mill Street Radio. Sounds like I'm bragging, and I am, we're the number one most downloaded food podcast in America. You know, Milstreet Radio travels the world in search of the very best food stories.

You'll hear about smuggling eels on the black market, the secret intelligence of plants, and insider tips to eating in Paris. In every week, listeners call in with their toughest culinary mysteries. Discover a world of food stories by searching your podcast app for Mill Street Radio. This is The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jennifer Hicksen, a director at The Moth. This hour, stories where shoes make an appearance. Satory Shakur told this story in Austin, Texas, where we partnered with the Austin Theater, a.k.a. Paramount Theater.

Here's Satory. Last year, May 2011, I'm sitting on my couch, clutching the remote, stressed out. and co-depended with Congress over whether they're going to vote to extend my unemployment benefits.

Now I'm surrounded by boxes because in two weeks, I'm moving out of my loft of nine years into a bedroom in my sister's house, and I'm trying to figure out how to pay for the U-Haul and the storage unit. On top of that, I'm menopausal. I'm having hot flashes and mood swings

every five minutes. So when I hear myself screaming at the Congress, Lazy my ass, vote, you constipated bitches. I vow that I will never let Congress or anybody else decide my destiny in life. I sacrifice for years to develop myself to become who I am so I could do what I love to do. I'm an artist, an actor, a storyteller. And I'd tempt in offices from Brooklyn Penitentiary to hostess Cupcake's factory in Detroit.

I cleaned toilets in L.A. and catered in Toronto to keep my schedule open for auditions and other opportunities. And it paid off. I was fairly successful. My investment portfolio looked healthy. My 401K was growing. I was bouncing back and forth between two hit shows, traveling, performing, winning awards. Life was good.

until 2005 when it all fell apart, when I lost my mother to ovarian cancer. And then nine months later, my husband calls and asks, was I sitting down? And he told me that our son had died an hour before from a massive seizure, that it was quick and that he felt no pain. Well, I didn't hear anything else because I died.

I died right there. And after crawling for six years on my hands and knees through a place of grief so dark, God couldn't even reach, finally, I was ready to live again, to connect with my life, and I'm running out of money. There's not a theater job in sight. I got to move in two weeks. I need a job. But I don't want a job. I want to do what I love to do for the rest of my life. So I'm sitting there immobilized with fear and indecision, scared because there's no jobs, scared that I'm not looking for a job, and scared that if I look hard enough, I might find one. It's not that I don't want to work. I just don't want to work for anybody that would hire me.

Well, fear will test anybody's faith. And I was so scared I started applying for jobs everywhere, non-union acting jobs, Walmart, U.S. truck driving school, script supervisor on a CC-Dynamite porno film. Craigslist was the only thing giving me hope. Nobody called me back for an interview except Macy's. Now, Macy's want to do a background check. They want to do a drug test fine.

But Macy's just needed to know two things. I'm menopausal, and don't put me in customer service. Well, my gym is right next door, so after my workout, I realized I forgot my makeup and the shoes that go with my outfit. So I said, okay, well, I'll buy a pair of shoes and Macy's, then take them back after the interview. Because I can't afford $59 for some cheap shoes, and I'm plotting to take the rug route so the bottoms don't get dirty, because I don't want no mess when I go to get my money back. Well, a guy brings me the shoes.

I can't even get my toe in. That's when I have a mood swing and snap on the guy. I said, look, these corporations go to ship the shoe jobs overseas. They need to ship them to a country that knows something about big feet. And I stormed out of the shoe department. And that's when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I'm looking militant. I'm looking like a cross between Cornell West and Little Wayne.

Nobody's going to hire me looking like this. So I got 10 minutes and I rushed to the makeup counter to put on some lipstick to fix it. Now the lighting is bad, so I got to take the makeup girl's word for it. She's like, mm-hmm, you look good in that color. So I'm going up to escalator, nothing but pure light and mirrors. I look like a cross between Cornell West and Lou Wayne with black lipstick. I mean, she lied to me with her purple hair. Now I'm walking through the doors of personnel looking like something out of predator too.

The little guy that's interviewing me looked like he's almost 13. I apologize for my gym shoes and we sit down and start the interview process. Now he asked me, is it ever okay to steal from your employer? I'm thinking, is this part of the drug test? I mean, because who in their right mind going to say, yeah? And then he proceeds to ask me more questions just as stupid as that. So finally I said, well I'm a grandmother, I can do anything. How much does this job pay?

So he said, well, it's an on-call job and it pays $7.40 an hour. I'm thinking $7.40 an hour, you mean to tell me Macy's came kicking another dime so I can get almost two gallons of gas to get to work? Then he asked me, do I have any conflicts? I'm thinking I'm conflicted, I'm even here. I'm conflicted I would have to work eight whole hours to pay for them cheap shoes downstairs. downstairs and I'm a conflict away from walking out of here but I don't say that because I'm broke I just smile and say no no I don't have any conflicts

and I shake his hand and I leave pretty certain I'm gonna get this job matter fact before I get to the parking lot I'm already paying my bills with the Piddly check three days later I get an email from Macy's dear miss Shakur we regret to inform you we cannot hire you at this time dot dot dot your skills are strong, we'll keep your application on file. Well, I don't know. This feeling of a relief just came over me. It was like a message from the universe saying, you better do what you love to do for the rest of your life, because nobody's going to hire the incredible menopausal Hulk. And then I panicked. I'm terrified, because what am I going to do? Well, the next morning I'm

driving home from the gym, which is my health care plan, and I get a phone call. It's from a Dr. Jim Boggs. He says he has a company called Effective Arts, and he trains businesses and high-stakes interactions, and that he's coming to Michigan to an eye bank to train the people who ask for Cornia donations, and that his company hires actors to help facilitate with the training, and that he was very impressed with my resume. I was suspicious because Macy's had just turned me down. Plus, I had sent my application to millions of people. He could be a Craigslist crazy.

But then I remember the audition notice because the online site that posted it warned the actors, we're not familiar with this company, so submitted your own risk. So I pulled my car over to the side to Google him. Turns out he's legit, so I perked up my ears. He said, well, do you know anything about cornea donation? Well, I'm thinking, well, it had occurred to me that things got really bad.

I could donate my blood for money, but I tell him, no, no, no, not really. So he says it's a very delicate operation. Acornia has to be recovered within 23 hours of the death, or it's not going to be able to be used. So most of these deaths occur unexpectedly, tragically, as accidents. So you can imagine the shock and devastation of the family. So when the requester calls for the donation, they're going into a high-stakes interaction, a crisis situation, this time-critical.

So our company helps to improve the communication to reduce the risk and mistakes of getting to the donation. And at the highest level, the communication is human, and it's able to move that family member from devastation to seeing the possibility that even in death, their loved one can give the gift of sight. I was blown away. I was like, that is awesome.

And he engaged me in a conversation. And then he tells me, you know, we don't usually hire actors over the phone. We like to see him in person. But I have a feeling you'll be perfect for this job. And I'd like to hire you. Tears were rolling down my cheek. I was so thankful.

And so he tells me it's a nine-day job and he offered to pay me 200 times what Macy's had offered. All I can say was the most amazing nine days of my life. And if I hadn't known about cornea donation before my son died, I would have said yes. And I realized that not only could I do what I love to do to pay the bills,

I could use it to help make a difference. Well, for the next year and a half, just little miracles started popping up like that, little job miracles. And two months ago, I moved out of my sister's bedroom into my own beautiful 1921 two-bedroom apartment in Detroit in a neighborhood that was once elegant and that has seen the worstness on the rise

with a new beginning and a new life, just like me. So here I am, ladies and gentlemen, doing what I love to do for the rest of my life. Thank you. Thank you. That was Satory Shakur, live in Austin, Texas. Satory is an artist, storyteller, and a social entrepreneur. Among her many accomplishments she recorded with George Clinton

Parliament Funkadelic, which means she is officially one of the brides of Funkenstein. I wish we had a picture of whatever shoes she wore for that gig. Satory never regrets sticking to her guns and making the choice to do what she loves. She's the founder of the Secret Society

of Twisted Storytellers in Detroit. You see a picture of Satory posing in some fabulous leopard print pumps, visit TheMoth.org where you can also download this story or any of the others you heard in this hour. Our next story is from Sufian Jumokov, who is a professor at George Washington University.

He told this at our story slam in Washington, D.C., where we partner with Public Radio Station, W.A.N.U. Here's Sufian. Hi, everybody. You probably can guess by my weird accent that I spent some time of my life outside of the United States and when I moved here in my 40s my intention was to fit in whatever it costs

and I was asking my friends do I need to develop different communication skills or maybe I need to develop a different dream and one of my friends said you need different shoes nobody's wearing pointed toe shoes in town and I went to DSW shoe store. And I found myself nice, rounded toe American shoes. And while I was trying my shoes, I saw this man. He was a little bit older, kind of looking over his shoulders. We made an eye

contact, and he approached me. And he said, I have a message. I said, okay, what is it? He said, Jesus is coming. I said, that's good news. I said, but how do you know? He said, he told me himself. I said, thank you very much. Thank you very much for letting me know.

I'll be looking forward to it. And he went away. So I'm a Muslim from Russia. And where I'm from, I never met people who communicated with Jesus director. And those people always fascinated me here. I met another man earlier, a homeless, guy who was with a portable stereo and listening to a song.

Are you ready for Jesus? Are you ready for the day of your Lord? And I asked him, what's the music? But instead of telling me about the music right away, he told me the story of his life. He said several years ago, I was so depressed that I wanted to kill people. And then I prayed to Jesus and he spoke to me. And he told me, instead of killing people, go and collect all Bob Dylan's songs. So this is a Bob Dylan song.

I thought that's a great advice actually. So while I was thinking about it, this man came back. I'm still at T.S.W. We kind of knew each other already, so he approached me again. And he said, I didn't deliver the whole message. I said, okay, what's the rest of it?

He said, since Jesus is coming, you want to get rid of everything named after devil and hell. I said, actually I have this vacuum cleaner called dirt devil. He said, I was sent to you on purpose. I liked him, and I decided to confess, and I said, actually, I'm a Muslim. And I never could understand why Americans named things after

devil or hell, like hellburgers, or hell of a cheese, or devil's eggs. I said Muslims would never do that. And that's when he amazed me. He said, that's because Muslims are better believers. And he left me speechless and he walked away. And I thought how this can even be? This man who thinks he speaks to Jesus, he's so tolerant.

tolerant that he could say that just to make me feel good. And while I was leaving DSW with my new rounded toe American shoes, I knew two things for sure. One, I knew that I was going to fit in here among this wonderful and tolerant people. And two, I was going to get rid of my vacuum cleaner. That was Sufian Jumokov. Fun follow-up, exactly 90 days after telling this story, Sufian was at a social event where he was recognized by a woman named Margarita.

She remembered his round-toed shoe story from the D.C. Moth Story Slam and introduced herself. A romance was born. Sufian has since written a show about their relationship called Flirting Like an American, Look it up. It may be coming to a theater near you soon. To see a picture of Sufian and Margarita performing together on stage, visit the moth.org. In a moment, new shoes for a little girl and the world of shoe design,

when the Moth Radio Hour continues. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlanta. Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. Hi, Moth listeners. I'm Caledonia Cairns Vice President of 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. You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jennifer Hickson and we're hearing stories about footwear. Stacey Miller told this story at a New York story sling. where public radio station WNYC is a media partner of the Moth. Here's Stacey. So I adopted my daughter out of New York City foster care when she was 10 years old.

And when you adopt out of foster care, they don't just give you the kid in an emergency, the way they do if you're an emergency foster care parent. You have a getting to know each other like once every weekend. So it was my first day I was going to spend. with her alone and I was nervous and it was one of those days in March when there was a snowstorm and the snow was like up to here you couldn't walk they had just like single aisles on the corners it was really wet it was really cold and she arrived in white cotton sneakers and I was like don't you have any other shoes and she was like no I don't so I was like I'm going to take her

shopping. And I didn't even know, because I wasn't ready to do that yet, where to go. So I was like, where do you get shoes? And she told me pay less. I was like, we're going to go there. So we went up to pay less, and I got her galoshes, and we were trying on shoes. And we got two pairs of sneakers. And she put on one pair of shoes, and she said, oh, they look too small. And she said, that's okay. I can curl me. my toes under. And it was so, it was just so terrible, the awareness of that. And I said, you're never going to have to do that again. We're just going to get you shoes that fit. So I got her all the practical shoes. We got like four pairs. And then I felt like we needed something else. And I

saw these magenta glitter ballet shoes. And how's, we're going to get those. She put put on these shoes, and it was just this wonderful, wonderful thing. And a month later, she moved in, and I started feeding her. And in a year and a half, she grew afoot, and her feet went from a child's two and a half to a woman's eight. So we were in pay less, like every four weeks, buying shoes. But every month, we got a pair of those glitter shoes. And payless, you know, we couldn't find the pink one, so we get whatever color we could get.

And I started scouring the paylaces around the city, like whenever I walked past one, I'd go in and see if they had them and get a pair of shoes. And the last pair we got was a woman size eight, and they were multicolored glitter shoes, and they were ballet shoes. And they were just wonderful. They were these wonderful, wonderful shoes. and I thought about it when I did the money thing and I thought we don't have a photograph of those shoes but the way they look is just in my heart forever those shoes and we didn't keep any because we're not hoarders

and we don't have pictures of them but I just I will never forget they're so clearly etched into my memory into my heart and now of course my daughter buy sri-boots, so that's what happens. So thank you very much. That was Stacey Miller. Stacey was a jewelry designer for many years, but recently made the switch to fine art and is making beautiful paintings. Her daughter, Bella, attended two iconic

New York City Institutes of Higher Learning, LaGuardia High School, and then the School of Visual Arts, where she majored in film. To see a picture of Stacy and Bella, with matching tiaras, visit the moth.org. Our final story is from Mung Jen Ing. It's another one from our New York StorySlam, and the theme, coincidentally, was Shoes. He was right on topic with this one. Here's Mun.

Growing up in Chinatown, New York, my parents gave me career advice very early and very often. I said, Man, whatever you do, don't study art. You'll never find a job, you'll never make any money,

you'll probably starve to death. It sounds much worse when you say it in Chinese. So in 1996, I decided art school sounds like fun. I enrolled in a place called Pratt up in Brooklyn. Yeah. I studied something called product design. That's where I met my friend Evan.

Evan was also from Chinatown, and he's Chinese. And the first time I met him, he wore a white sweatband bandana on his head, but it was tilted sideways, and had the Air Jordan logo on it, Nike basketball shorts and Air Jordan sneakers. When he wasn't drawing in class, he was playing basketball. We'd work late into the night all the time at the studios. And then one night he told me, Mun, I think I know what I want to do with my life.

All I want to do is design basketball shoes and work for Nike. So for his senior project, he designed a super futuristic basketball shoe. He took a block of foam and then he carved out the shape of the soul. And then he spent weeks cutting out the tread designs. He took some fabric and he sewed it all up and he glued it on top. The result was it looks like something you would buy at a store. If any Chinese person could get a job in art and design, it would be Evan. But we graduated in 2000, right after the dot-com crash, and nobody was getting a job.

For seven months, all my friends sent out resumes and samples of their portfolios, and they didn't hear anything back. I sat in my bedroom, and I drew the shades down. I remember thinking, oh, man, I made a huge mistake. Maybe my parents were right. Maybe you can't have a career in art and design. Sometimes we attach our self-worth to our career,

and if we don't ever have a career, then we think we're worthless. That's a bad thought to have when you're just 22. Bad thought any age. One day, sitting in my bedroom, I get a phone call. A design company I had sent my work to says, Hey, Mun, we like your stuff. We don't have the budget for a full-time designer now.

How about an internship? And I thought, an internship? I'm a graduate. graduate. But honestly, after sitting in the dark for so long, I'd be happy just to get out of the house. I managed to ask them a question that my parents would be so proud of. Does it pay? And they said, yeah, it pays $10, I'll take it. You should have seen me the next morning. My dad's like, where are you going? I was like, I'm going to work.

I work pretty hard, and I guess I make an impression. One of the designers comes up to me, he says, I don't know what's going to happen after this internship. But my friend works at a company, and they're looking for a full-time designer. Are you interested? I'm like, yeah, of course. What is it? He said, the company is called And Wong.

They designed basketball sneakers. At that time, I would have loved a job just to prove my parents wrong. But I knew somebody that would have loved that job more than me. So I called Evan, and he freaked out. And one at that time was the hottest street basketball shoe company ever. He took all the designs he took and he sent them in. They loved it. They hired him on the spot.

They loved him so much. They promoted him after a year and then they doubled his salary. He was now making more than my parents combined. Eventually, I got my own job. But, no, I keep in contact with Evan. We talk about life, we talk about art, and we talk about what it's like being a professional designer. designer.

One day, I get laid off. Evan hears about this, and he calls me up. He says, Mun, I know you don't know anything about footwear. But if you're willing to learn, I promise you will have so much fun. I sent my stuff into An1, and they hire me. And oh my God, let me tell you,

this job. Evan and I traveled all around the world. We ate the best restaurants. We played video games all afternoon. When the mixtape players came in, Evan would challenge them to basketball. And in the middle of all that, I learned how to design footwear. 2014, Evan calls me up. He says, Mun, you're never going to believe what you're never going to believe what just happened. Evan works for Nike in the Jordan Division. He says, Mun, I just got out of a meeting with Michael Jordan. And he's telling me how much he loves the shoes I've designed for him. Thank you. If it wasn't for you 14 years ago, I would have never gotten that job.

And I'm sitting in my design area, and I just finished designing footwear for the U.S. Navy SEALs. If it wasn't for Evan, giving me the opportunity, I would have never been there. Evan and I are just two kids from Chinatown. We wanted a career in art and design, and because we helped each other out, here we are. That was Mun Jen In. He and Evan are still friends, and they still love sneakers. Mun went out to visit Evan in Portland and was so blown away by his closet full of sneakers, he made a little video.

To see that and to see pictures of the guys and some of the projects they've worked on, visit the moth.org. Munn was invited to speak to a graduating class at Jefferson University. He ended the speech talking about his friendship with Evan. He closed it by saying this. I know all of you have dreams of things you want to do and where you want to work. But remember, the person sitting next to you also has dreams. If you're willing to help each other out, I promise you they can all come true. Munn says he still believes that to this day.

And it all started with a pair of sneakers. Whether you're comfortable in cha-cha heels or work boots, we hope you enjoyed this hour. Thanks to all the tellers who shared their stories. That's it for this episode of The Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time. This episode of The Moth Radio Hour was produced by me, Jay Allison, Catherine Burns, and Jennifer Hickson, who also hosted.

Jennifer directed the stories in the show along with Maggie Sino. Co-producer is Vicki Merrick, Associate Producer, Emily. couch. The rest of the Moth's leadership team include Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin-Ginesse, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Clucce, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Inga Gladowski, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Casa. Mollstories are true, is remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by the drift, other music in this hour from Tommy Guerrero, Andrew Bird, the Transatlantics, Bob Dylan, and Blue Dot Sessions. 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.org.