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

Episode Date: March 1, 2022

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. Hosted by: Jenifer Hixon. 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.

Attention Houston! You have listened to our podcast and our radio hour, but did you know the Moth has live storytelling events at Wearhouse Live? The Moth has opened Mike's storytelling competitions called Story Slams that are open to anyone with a five-minute story to share on the night's theme. Upcoming themes include love hurts, stakes, clean, and pride. GoodLamoth.org forward slash Houston to experience a live show near you. That's from PRX. 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, burkin stocks, 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 Yorkers act up, they send those 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 was a failure She's a voice 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 from 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 for 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

probably a good time to let you know that at the age of 12 I was already six feet one So, 230 something pounds and I wore size 12 sneaker. Not a lot of size 12 sneakers in the small town of Garrojo Boelterica where I'm from. So, after unsuccessfully walking out of three discount shoe stores in town without a sneaker, my dad was like heated. He knew he was gonna have to take me to the mall and actually spend 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. I'm my blog, What You Want Your Freed, represented where you were in the food chain. You wore some busted looking kicks. Mm-hmm. The kids were gonna eat you alive. So when we got to the mall,

I went straight to the Nike section, picked out some Air Force ones, brought 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 in Spanish, he's Spanish. It's already getting something cheaper. So my next logical step was to get some rebounds for like 29.99, but before I gave him, he was shaking his head emphatically, but then I could see the frustration on his face. And I barely knew this guy, so it was kind of intimidating.

I gave him rather quickly, and I allowed him to pick up whatever Sneaky he wanted. Now I don't really remember the name, brang, of Sneaky chose, because I think I repressed it. But I'll never forget how ugly these sneakers were. They were like a topish, tanish, grayish brownish. And they were complete knockoffs of the Reebok pumps. Y'all remember the pumps? They had a little ball on the tongue, your sneaky will fill up with air. Those sneakers were so dope. These to be knuckles were not.

They cost them 13, 99. And I was so disappointed. He didn't buy me those night keys. 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 about the most expensive sneakers that I could afford to show them that I love them. Those are lies now. You know, my two and five year old one, some sneakers, oops.

They better get a job. two and five year old one, some sneakers, oops. They better get a job. You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean?

You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean?

You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? You know what I mean? So, then 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 the 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 had a dawn 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 until I was 19 years old, but 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, shan, john shirts, super baggy, pale, pale, jeez. But most importantly, I was rocking them, shiny Sean John shirts, Super baggy, pale, pale 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 sure enough. 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 a struggling. He lived most of his life living paycheck to paycheck. I looked it up. Minimal wage back in 1992 was like $5.25. If he was lucky to be making that in the factory. So those 1399 that he spent on them, how 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. But then I got to know my dad and I realized I had a lot more of Gabriel Rojo with the Rico course into my veins and it was scary. I wasn't raised

with this guy but there we were, liking the same types of music and movies, personal philosophies that we shared. Little things from the way we signed our names the same, till even the type of girls we liked. All of them. You like them all. It was scary. It was like looking into a mirror for the first time, it seemed to reflect you. I love my dad.

Last summer, I finally allowed him to be my father. Now I wanna 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. 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 to let them 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 them. Took them to the mall.

The same exact mall he took me to when I was 12. And I told him, pick out whatever Sneaker he wanted. And I feel like a 20 minute argument, because he's hard-headed, just 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 Nike's. And I know he loved them. But not as much as I loved those old Toby knockoffs, thank you.

That was Edgar Ruiz Jr. Edgar's a proud New Yorker born in Cabo Rojo Puerto Rico and raised in the Bronx. These days he lives in Westchester County, New York with his wife and kids. He's restoring their old house that he says might be haunted. Edger also does stand up comedy and has an impressive sneaker collection. His favorites are Nike Air Trainer SC, aka the Bow 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 themoth.org. Our next story is from Isabelle Raphael who told that out of story slam in New York City, where WNYC is a media partner of the month. Here's Isabelle. Thanks. Thanks. 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 I'm at a dropped in the down the shaft between the doors and the elevators. So I heard them kind of clank, clank, clank, clank, down the shaft to the bottom. And I just kind of stood down.

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 who my neighbor is. I had no bra, wrong. And I had no, I did not know who my neighbors. I had no bra, wrong. And I had no shoes. And I was so hungry. I like basically was dead in New York. I had no idea what to do.

So as I looked out there just like thinking about my death, I remember that my sister building like had like a dormant. If I knew anything about dormant, that they had key use to every single apartment. So I was like, okay, all I had to do was 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 sat the walk I thought I was like, A, 13 blocks

is actually in a long way. The people in New York kind of love to yell out feedback on the straight. A total of like full cars, I think like yelled out, you don't have any shoes on! Like, yeah, I know, I was twirling my keys around me and I 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 gonna regret this. Oh, God. So eventually I get to the door and the guy kind of shrieked about black issues. I was like, yeah, I was swinging around. And he's like, oh, I actually do have the keys.

So I can take you back, but I need to piggyback you because I didn't think you can walk without shoes. I'm like, oh my god. Why not? I'm not like a, like, get on your shoulders at the band kind of girl. Like, I don't like jump over fences. So I was like, what? How do you like, how do you like get on someone's back?

So I was like, I started really far away. I was like, wow, I kind of like flottled myself onto his back. To his horror and show up. But until we started the long way back, and I kind of, I don't like to piggyback and all for silence. So like chatting away about like how not very good about getting on people's backs. I was really lonely in the city and I just meet here all the way on like sleeping like Loha and Loha on his back until my feet were just kind of dragging along the ground. So eventually I got back to the house and he fished out and a pair of pink

the stangled child flippers, I guess he totally got my style and a little note that said for next time. That was Isabel Rafael. Isabel is a creative director. She said she wish 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, anyone? So she never had to walk that far. Isabelle now lives in Austin, Texas, where she can enjoy barefoot walks in her backyard as much as she likes.

When we've returned, a woman needs some great shoes for a job interview and a recent immigrant gets shoes style advice from an American friend. That's when the Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by PRX. This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jennifer Hickson, a director at the Moth. This Hour, stories where shoes make an appearance. Satori Shakor told this story in Austin, Texas, where we partnered with the Austin Theater Alliance, A.K.A. Paramount Theater.

Here's Satori. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Last year, May 2011, I'm sitting on my couch clutching the remote, stressed out, and co-dependent with Congress over whether they're gonna 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 unit. On top of that I'm minipausal. 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'd tempt in offices from Brooklyn, Penitentiary, to host this cupcake factory in Detroit. I cleaned toilets in LA 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 asked, 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. It's, 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, US truck driving school, script supervisor on a CC dynamite porno film.

Crags list was only thing giving me hope. Nobody called me back for an interview except Macy's. Now, Macy's wanna do a background check, they wanna do a drug test fine. But Macy's just needed to know two things. I'm in a pausal and don't put me in customer service. Well, my gym is right next door, so after my work, 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 $ nine dollars for some cheap shoes And I'm plotting to take the rug roots 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 If they these

corporations go to ship the shoe jobs overseas they need to ship them to a country they know 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 Lil Wayne. Nobody's gonna 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, oh, you look good in that color. So I'm going up to escalate or 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 look 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 gonna say yeah? And then he proceeds to ask me more questions just to 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, listen on call job,

and it pays 7.40 an hour. I'm thinking 7.40 an hour. You mean to tell me Macy's can't kick in another dime, so I can get almost two gallons of gas to get the work? They ask 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, 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 going to get this job. Matter of fact, before I get to the park in line, I'm already paying my bills with the Piddly check. Three days later, I get an email from Macy's. Dear Ms. 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 is 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 doctor, Jim Boggs. He says he's had a, he has a company called Effective Arts, and he trains businesses in high stakes interactions. And 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 crag list crazy. But then I remembered the

audition notice because the online site that posted it warned the actors were 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 in a conversation. And then he tells me, you know, we don't usually hire actors over the phone. We like to see them in person. But I have a feeling you'll be perfect for this job. And I'd like to hire you. Well, tears were rolling down my cheek.

I was so thankful. And so he tells me it's a nine-day job, and that 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 had known about Cornia 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 worst news 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. That was Satori Shakura live in Austin, Texas.etori 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. Cetori 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 Story Tellers in Detroit. You see a picture of Satori posing in some fabulous leopard print pumps, visit the Moth Artorg where you can also download this story or any of the others you heard in his hour. Our next story is from Sufian Zhomokov, 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.M.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 forties, 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. No, but it's wearing pointed toeshoes in town. And I went to the SW shoe store. And I went to DSW Shoestor. 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 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 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 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 the SW. 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 name things after devil or hell, like halbergers 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 that he could say that just to make me feel good. And while I was living the SWU with my new round-it-to-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. LAUGHTER CHEERING AND APPLAUSE 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 DC Moth's Toy 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 theMoth.org. In a moment, new shoes for a little girl and the world of shoe design, when the Moth Radio Hour continues. P.R.X. is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by the Public Radio Exchange, PRX.org.

You're listening to The Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jennifer Hickson and we're hearing stories about footwear. Stacey Miller told this story at a New York Story Slam where Public Radio Station WNYC is a media partner of The Moth. Here's Stacey Miller told this story at a New York story slam where public radio station WNYC is a media partner of the month. 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 as my first day, I was going to spend with her alone. And it was nervous. And it was one of those days in March when there was a snow storm 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 gonna 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 gonna go there. So we went up to pay less and I got her

glosses 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're, I said they look too small. And she said, that's okay. I can curl 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 belly shoes and how we're going to get those. She 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 a foot and her feet went from a child's to 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 Pay less, you know, we couldn't find the pink one so we get whatever color we could get and I started scouring The pay less is around the city like whenever I walk past when I'd go in and see if they had them and get a pair of shoes and around the city, like whenever I walked past when 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's size eight and they were a multi-colored 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, you know, 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, they're so clearly etched into my memory, into my heart. And, um, and now of course my daughter buys fry boots, so. clearly etched into my memory and to my heart. And now of course my daughter buys fry boots.

That's what happens. 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, La Guardia High School, and then the School of Visual Arts, where she majored in film, to see a picture of Stacey and Bella with matching tiaras visit themoth.org.

Our final story is from Mungan-ein. It's another one from our New York story slam, and the theme coincidentally was shoes. He was right on top of it with this one. Here's Mung. Growing up in Chinatown, New York, my parents gave me career advice very early and very often. I said, Mung, 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. 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 I 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 a senior project, he designed a super futuristic basketball shoe. He took a block of foam and then he carved out the shape of the sole.

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, man, we like your stuff. We don't have the budget for a full-time designer now. How about an internship? I thought an internship? I'm a 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 and says, I don't know what's gonna 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. Who? What is it? He said, the company is called And One. They design 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. Yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.

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Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. One day, I get laid off. Evan hears about this and he calls me out. He says, man, I know you don't know anything about footwear, but if you're willing to learn, I promise you we'll have so much fun. I sent my stuff into N1 and they hire me. Oh my God, let me tell you about 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, man, you're never going to believe what just happened. Evan works for Nike in the Jordan He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, He says, 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 US Navy Seals. If it wasn't for Evan giving me the opportunity, I would have never been there. Evan 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 Mung Gen-E. He and Evan are still friends, and they still love sneakers. Mung 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 that they've worked on, visit themoth.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, Katherine Burns, and Jennifer Hickson, who also hosted. Jennifer directed the stories in the show along with Maggie Cino. Co-producer is Vicki Merrick, Associate Producer Emily Couch. The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin, Genes, Meg Boles, Kate Tellers, Jennifer Birmingham, Marina Cluche, Susan Rust, Brandon Grant, Inga Glodowsky, Sarah Jane Johnson, and Aldi Kaza.

Moths' stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by the Drift, other music in this hour from Tommy Gouero, Andrew Bird, the transatlantics, Bob Dylan, and Blue Dot Sessions. We receive funding from the National Endowment for the Arts. The Maw 3D O'Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by PRX for more about our podcast, for information on pitching us your own story, and everything else.

Go to our website, TheMorth.org.