The Moth - The Family Car: Mary Ann Ludwig and Melanie Kostrzewa

Episode Date: July 28, 2023

On this episode of the Moth podcast, we examine the relationship between cars and families. This episode is hosted by Kate Tellers. Storytellers: Mary Ann Ludwig’s teenagers decide to get up to some trouble with the family car Melanie Kostrzewa redefines her relationship with her minivan

Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Kate Tellers, senior director and your host for this episode. I failed my driving test four times. I blame my parents, don't we all? Who took turns teaching me to drive in my high school parking lot in their stick shift cars? I found the mechanics of manual driving, the sensitive clutch, the complexities of putting a Volkswagen in reverse to be so incredibly frustrating. I was convinced that this was my parents' plan to never let me feel the ultimate teenage freedom of a car on the open road. It was the very first time I openly cursed in front of both of them. I got very creative. Luckily, my best friend Jess had her license and inherited an old Toyota van

we nicknamed the Magic Bus and decorated with rainbow blankets and glow in the dark stars. I'll never forget the feeling of my hair whipping as we screened freedom by George Michael and Kareen to school. The mornings were ours. So many of us have had to get creative to get that first taste of car fuel freedom. Since it's summer, a time when people hit the road, revisit Highway 61 and pack into the old Jalapi, will be playing two stories about families and their relationships to cars. First up is Marianne Ludwig. She told this at a Moss Story Slam in New York City, where the theme of the night was burned.

Here's Marianne, live at the mall. So, I loved every single moment of raising my two daughters, Michelle and Allison, except except for a brief period of time between 1982 and 1992. It was, they transitioned into the dark side, you know, the teenage years. And it was a very loud, dramatic transition, stamping feet, slamming doors, yelling, it's awful. So I was newly divorced and I wanted this perfect life for my family. So we moved out into Chester County, Pennsylvania and I rented a historic mill, 250 years old. I just picture this beautiful life for me and my daughters. We had an acre pond in the backyard, a walk in fireplace.

It was going to be great. And there would be no hormones involved in this. Our neighbors, the county next to us, were amish. So it was going to be perfect. Well, eventually, they got their driver's licenses, and the car became weaponized. And it's like, do this, you can't have the car. Mom, can we go to the library?

Can we go bowling? And I thought, it's classic. Things never change. I said, sure, you can go. But I happened to know exactly how many miles it is to the library, exactly how many miles it is to the mall, and any place else you might want to go. So they understood. And they didn't take it easily, and you know, they threatened to call child protective services. At Gentile Reminder, as I handed them the phone number, you know, when you call, they take you.

They don't take me. Yeah. Yeah. So I did let them live and they grew up and they got married and they have teenagers of their own now. It's beautiful. They call me every mom or so sorry. So one night we decided we would go out for dinner together and we went to Little Italy.

And the older daughter, she says to me, Mom, we have a great idea. How about if we tell you everything you didn't catch when we were teenagers? Wouldn't that be fun? And I said, no, you know, no. And because she said, you know, you were really good, but you weren't perfect. Okay. So the waiter even got in on it.

And he said, you have another class of Keonti. As he said, a bird cannot fly with one wing. And you know, and enjoy. So Michelle proceeds to tell me that we had an older car, and the odometer was not digital. So they would take the car, and she would come home half an hour, 45 minutes early. And we had a courtyard, and they would go around backwards,

put it in reverse, and take the miles off the car. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. And Allison, the second daughter, she would sit in the bedroom window and look at Michelle like hang her arm over the front seat and you know, look in the rear and just go around and around,

around, around, around, around. And they let, isn't this funny? And they just laughed and they really thought they burned me. They really thought they burned me and I thought, you are amateurs. And they're doubled over laughing, you know, the tears, the belly laughing and they never heard me say, well guess what?

So I waited and they're laughing, they finally composed themselves, you know, brushed the tears off those angelic little faces of theirs. And I said, well, guess what? And they both say together, well, what? And I said, I never checked. Thank you. That was Marianne Ludwig. Marianne was introduced to the excitement of the spoken word through a storytelling

class at the Irish Art Center. After years of studying with the writer studio, writing poetry and short stories, she made the leap to story slams in the moth stage. She hasn't looked back since. We have photos of Marianne's teenagers, as well as the car on our website. Just go to the moth.org slash extras. And if you'd like more stories about teenagers,

or dealing with teenagers, you can always check out the Moth Spin-Off podcast, Grown. It features young voices and sight-full stories and a whole bunch of youthful misadventures. You can check it out at grownpod.com or get it wherever you get your podcasts. I bought my first car just three years ago in the height of the COVID pandemic. I loved the freedom of picking up and driving my family to Rockaway Beach or a hike in Juniper Park. As the pandemic war on, I was surprised that I also loved having

a climate-controlled box where I could cry or scream in private. Sometimes I would just drive around the block and sing at the top of my lungs, finding a small taste of that freedom I first discovered in the Magic Bus. Regardless of whether we were all in there together or separately, our pandemic car helped my family muscle through a challenging couple of years. And now when I look at the sparkle storm, as we call it, I see the promise of new adventures to come. Our next storyteller is Melanie Kestreeva. She told this at a New Orleans Grand Slam where the theme was leaps.

Just a heads up, the story contains mention of a miscarriage. If that's something that's difficult for you, we understand. You might want to skip this one. Here's Melanie live at the moment. So there comes a point in every young family's life when you have to make that important decision. What many van are we going to buy? For us that came when I found out I was pregnant with our fourth child. I know.

And you know, we had everything to bring the child into the world, we had the gear, we had the unwanted advice. You know, we just didn't have a way to get the kid home from the hospital. So we go to Craigslist, we find something within our budget, we go, we love it, it's a Honda Odyssey. Think you know what I'm talking about. And we get it, and within a few hours of driving it, we realize, whoopsie daisy, we bottle emin'. It was a total piece of crap. So a couple days later was our annual Mariera Parade.

My husband and I parade with crew delusion. Woohoo! Yes! Yes. It was also my birthday. So I was going to be, I was looking forward to this day for months. And this was a couple years ago, and just so it's relevant. We were all dressed up like Donald Trump.

And so two years ago when him, when him being in politics was just like this funny thing. And it's not funny now. And I was dressed up like a freedom girl. And if you recall, at some of his rallies, he'd have these underage girls dress up and patriotic clothes and sing to songs. So I was a freedom girl. So it's the afternoon we're getting ready to go downtown.

And people are milling about my house, little Donald Trumps everywhere. My kids are running around, the babysitters there. And I go, oh, we're about to leave. I go to go to the bathroom one more time, because you had, I'm pregnant, and you can't pee on the parade route. And I go to the bathroom and I see blood. And I'm not supposed to see blood, you know, I'm pregnant. So the first thing I do whenever I'm in distress

I call my husband. I go, hey I'm bleeding but I think it's normal. I think it's just spotting and I'm not in any pain. So I just wanted you to know. And my husband goes, we're going to the hospital. And I said, no, no, no, it's my birthday. It's the parade. And I'm not in any pain. The doctor said, you come when there's pain.

I'm in no pain. So I think we're good. He said, the second you want to leave, we go. I said, OK. So we go to the parade. And it's wonderful. It's the night of delusion. It's my birthday.

I made 50 bucks. For real, I came home, I had 50 bucks pinned in my shirt. And I'm not thinking about what happened in the bathroom. Earlier. The next day, no pain, no blood, I'm relieved. Monday morning before the sun rose. My youngest daughter woke up with this nightmare. I can only assume. And I shoot up out of bed to go see what's wrong.

And as I lean down to pick her up, I feel a huge gush of blood leave my body. And I know now what's happening, I'm having a miscarriage. So I hold my daughter and she stops crying. And then I start crying. And then she's holding me. I go to the hospital later that day and I'm confirmed. I'm having a miscarriage. And those days are just really dark.

And I have a wonderful village here. I have a wonderful husband carrying for me, but it felt so lonely. I hadn't told anybody I was even pregnant, but by the time you have your fourth, they just see the other kid in your Christmas card. Oh, you had a fourth. No one knew. So it was really isolating, really lonely. And I remember my husband would run my back because I couldn't even look at him because I was having the miscarriage but we both lost the baby.

And so now I have this van, this piece of shit van that I had to deal with because I thought I needed it. So for the few months after my miscarriage, every time I got in this van, I was angry. Every time the brakes squeaked or the engine shook under my miscarriage, every time I got in this van, I was angry. Every time the brakes squeaked or the engine shook under my feet when you would accelerate above 35 miles per hour, or when the sliding door went in open for carpool,

and I'm like that mom with the van, I'm like, don't worry, just the door's automatic, but it doesn't work, but, brrrr, brrrr. The thing's got hardly any pain on it. Like every time I was in this car, I was reminded that it's broken. I'm broken.

It's not working right. I'm not working right. I have such a strong identity in my children and being a mom and losing a child is like an identity crisis for me. But this van has redefined its purpose for our family. It's restored its purpose. We've actually just bought a new radiator for it.

And it has a new purpose now. I'm the carpool mom. I pick up five or six kids. I'll pick up any kids. If there's a kid on the side, get in! My husband is a soccer dad, and I'm ballet mom.

And yeah, I'll give you right to the airport, you and your whole family. Because I have this van. And so the van has redefined its purpose. And maybe it's only purpose And so the van has redefined its purpose. And maybe it's only purpose wasn't just a hold of fourth child for our family. And maybe the same is true for me. Thank you.

That was Melanie Castriva. Melanie is a teacher living in New Orleans with her husband of 15 years, writing, sewing, cooking, and show-faring her kids around, her hobbies, and occupations. And she's not driving the same broken minivan. She's driving a newer one. Since Melanie told this story, she had another miscarriage, and thought she was done having kids. Much to her surprise and delight, she had her fourth baby girl in November of 2021, eight years after her third.

That's all for this episode. We hope that the next time you're driving in your family's car, you take a listen to the Moth podcast. We're a pretty good road trip companion. From all of us here at the Moth, have a story worthy week. Kate Tellers is a storyteller, host, senior director at The Moth, and co-author of their fourth book,

Hadithella Story. Her story, but also bring cheese, is featured in The Moths all these wonders. True stories about facing the unknown. And her writing has appeared on Mixwin News and The New Yorker. This episode of The Moth podcast was produced by Sarah Austin-Geness, Sarah Jane Johnson, and me, Mark Salinger. The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Jennifer Hickson, Meg Bulls,

Kate Tellers, Marina Kluchay, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant, Leanne Gully, and Aldi Kaza. All Moth stories are true, as remembered by the storytellers. For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story, and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org. The Moth podcast is presented by Pierre X, the Public Radio Exchange, helping make public radio more public at PierreX.org. That word.