David Ellis Dickerson: A Flash of Hope - The Moth

Summary

Podcast Summary: The Moth – David Ellis Dickerson: A Flash of Hope

Introduction

In the episode titled "A Flash of Hope," released on April 13, 2009, The Moth presents a compelling true story by David Ellis Dickerson. As a fundamentalist Christian grappling with personal turmoil, Dickerson narrates his transformative journey from despair to renewed hope. His story intertwines themes of faith, love, self-discovery, and the unexpected moments that can alter the course of one’s life.

1. The Breaking Point ([01:51] - [03:30])

David Ellis Dickerson begins his story by laying bare a moment of profound personal crisis. At 30 years old, he confesses to being a fundamentalist Christian who has just ended a six-year engagement with his fiancée. He reflects on his sudden decision to break off the relationship without understanding his own motives, leading him to believe he has "ruined [his] life" and that he might never "feel a warm breeze again" ([03:00]).

2. A Moment of Hope on the Bridge ([03:31] - [05:15])

Amidst his depression, Dickerson recounts a vivid scene in Kansas City on one of its few beautiful days. While walking across a picturesque bridge adorned with blooming flowers and butterflies, a van slows down beside him. A young woman in a bikini unexpectedly appears, popping out of the window and playfully saying, “Hey, love her. You flashed me.” This spontaneous interaction leaves Dickerson stunned, prompting him to blow a kiss in response. He interprets this as a sign of the inherent "propensity to hope" within the human heart, referencing his studies in the Sociology of Religion class with Professor Greeley ([05:00]).

3. Seeking Hope: The Move to Florida ([05:16] - [08:45])

Inspired by the fleeting moment of connection, Dickerson decides to seek hope elsewhere. He chooses to enroll at Florida State University in Tallahassee, motivated by the desire to find a place where "hope lives." Transitioning from his upbringing in the arid Tucson, Arizona, he finds himself in a lush, vibrant environment teeming with young college women in bikinis. This stark contrast serves as the backdrop for his quest to reconcile his faith with his burgeoning sexual awareness ([07:30]).

4. The Wet T-Shirt Contest Experience ([08:46] - [14:20])

Determined to confront his fears and preconceived notions about sex and decency, Dickerson attends a wet T-shirt contest in Tallahassee. His expectation is to witness a group of women exuding "life and vibrancy," akin to the woman in the van. However, the reality disappoints him as the event becomes overly commercialized, featuring not only genuine participants but also hired strippers. This commercialization mirrors his sociology lesson about attempts to recreate religious experiences through repetitive rituals that ultimately fail to capture the original essence ([10:15]).

During the contest, Dickerson becomes increasingly uncomfortable as contestants begin to judge other women harshly, undermining the very decency he seeks. Frustrated by the superficiality and judgmental behavior, he confronts his internal conflict between his religious upbringing and the free-spirited environment around him ([12:40]).

5. A Guiding Conversation and Spring Break Decision ([14:21] - [16:00])

After pouring his heart out to a bartender about his depression and disillusionment, Dickerson receives unexpected advice: to wait until spring break and head to South Florida. Taking this counsel, he embarks on his first true spring break experience at the age of 30, a significant departure from his years of missionary work. Accompanied by two fellow grad students, he drives to Key West with apprehension, fearing that embracing this new experience might lead him away from his values ([15:30]).

6. The Revelation at Rum Runners, Key West ([16:01] - [17:00])

At Rum Runners in Key West, Dickerson attends another wet T-shirt contest with heightened anxiety. Contrary to his previous experience, he observes genuine interactions among diverse women who dance and enjoy themselves without judgment. The final duel between two equally captivating women ends in a tie, prompting the crowd to collectively contribute more funds to ensure both contestants are rewarded. This act of generosity and the authentic joy displayed by the participants help Dickerson realize that "sex and decency" can coexist. He concludes that his quest for proof that one can "like sex and be a decent human being" has been fulfilled ([16:45]).

7. Embracing the Miracle and Letting Go ([17:01] - [17:28])

Returning home elated, Dickerson reflects on the profound impact of that single night in Key West. He realizes that "one really good night can make up for years of repression," understanding that it’s essential to cherish transformative moments without clinging to them. This newfound perspective allows him to embrace hope and move forward, having reconciled his faith with his personal experiences ([17:15]).

Notable Quotes

“There exists in the human heart a propensity to hope. And life.” ([04:50] David Ellis Dickerson)
“You could have titties and niceness.” ([16:55] David Ellis Dickerson)
“When a miracle happens, you don't go back and revisit it. You let that butterfly land in your hand and you do not clutch.” ([17:10] David Ellis Dickerson)

Conclusion

David Ellis Dickerson's story, as shared on The Moth, is a poignant exploration of personal faith, love, and the unexpected moments that can rekindle hope. Through his journey from a moment of despair to a night of revelation, Dickerson illustrates the delicate balance between maintaining one’s values and embracing life’s unpredictable joys. His narrative serves as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the transformative power of genuine human connections.

Additional Information

David Ellis Dickerson is a humorist and a regular contributor to public radio’s This American Life. His memoir, Working at Hallmark House of Cards, was slated for publication by Riverhead in the fall of 2009. For more stories and live events from The Moth, visit themoth.org.

Transcript

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Andy Borowitz (1:23)

Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Andy Borowitz. The Moth features true stories told live without notes. All stories on the Moth Podcast are taken from our ongoing storytelling series in New York and Los Angeles and from our tour shows across the country. Visit themoth.org this week. Our story is by Dave Dickerson.

Dave Dickerson (1:51)

There are only about 10 really beautiful days a year in Kansas City, and I was in danger of missing one of them because I was convinced that I had just ruined my life. I was 30 years old, I was a fundamentalist Christian, and I had just broken up with the only woman I had ever dated, woman I'd been dating for six years. She was my fiance. We're going to get married. And I broke it off and I didn't even know why I had done it. I could tell that she was convinced that it was because I was selfish, I wanted to do other things or something. And it if she had actually accused me of this, I knew I could not prove her wrong. And so on this particular day, it was a beautiful day. I was walking in one of the only beautiful parts of Kansas City outside the plaza. I was walking across a bridge with flowers blooming alongside butterflies, fucking butterflies in the flowers. And I realized, as if from a distance, I should be appreciating this. But I was so depressed. I was so convinced I had just made the worst decision of my life. I would be crippled forever and I might never Feel a warm breeze again. So while this was happening, I was walking alongside a road and this van pulled up and kind of slowed down beside me, presumably to ask for directions or something. So I looked up and this young woman in a bikini popped out of the window and said, hey, love her. Whipped off her top. You flashed me. The van floored it, went around the corner. You could hear them laughing. And I was so stunned, all I could think to do was just blow them a kiss. And I thought, my God, what a nice world we live in. This is Kansas City. This shit is not supposed to happen here. And it stuck with me because I was a religious studies major and I had learned in my Sociology of Religion class with Professor Greeley, there exists in the human heart a propensity to hope. And life. And the pressures of life get to us and wear us down. And we require that hope to be restored. Usually we do this with friends, relatives, that kind of thing hanging out. But every so often, something happens that overwhelms you and is so surprising and seems to light you from within and heal you in ways you had no idea even needed healing. And that is where religion starts. So I was a virgin. I had literally never seen naked female breasts in real life except for my girlfriend, religion. So this stayed with me, you know, it will. And six months later, I decided to go back to school. And I'm shopping around for places to go, and one of my options is Florida State University in Tallahassee, Florida. And I look down there and I think, there are women in bikinis there. I bet you some of them own vans. That is where I'm going, you know, that is where hope lives. So then I find myself in Tallahassee. I was raised, by the way, in the desert, Tucson, Arizona. And suddenly I was surrounded by this lush, fucking, like dripping wet place all the time. Oh, my God, kudzu will grow on anything. And surrounded by these like 18 to 22 year old college girls wearing nothing, you know. And everywhere I went I kept thinking, where is that woman in the van? You know, where would she be right now? And one day I was walking along campus and saw a bar with a sign that said wet T shirt contest Friday. And I thought probably, you know, But I have to say, so I decided to go. But it was really scary to me, partly because, of course, if you were raised conservative, religious in any way, you know, sex is evil and it will take over your life, you know, it's not just you think about it and it's wrong. It's. And it will never be sated, you know, and it was terrifying because I could feel that working inside me already. I knew I needed to see this wet T shirt contest way more than made sense. You know, The Thursday before the show, I lost sleep. So I guess what I pictured was that this wet T shirt contest would be like that woman in the van, like times 20. One by one, women would come up and go, hey, I'm full of life and vibrancy and look woo. You know, and it would all be a jolly fun time. What happened, however, is that I discovered if you are in a small town and Tallahassee is not enormous and you have a wet T shirt contest every week, you're going to run out of people, volunteers. And they tended to pad the rolls, just in case with strippers. And so what should have been this kind of, hey, look how young we are and fun and full of life turned out to be. I'm going to grind as if there's a pole right here. So what should have been spontaneous and joyous and fun was this prefab, pre paid for fake titted bullshit. And it was depressing as hell. And it reminded me of the second thing I learned in my sociology of religion class, which is that after that religious experience, what happens is people try and recapture it. They go back and do the same thing, they sing the same songs, they do the same rituals in hopes of sort of regaining that initial experience. But it never happens. What you get instead is you find you've built a scaffold and around the original experience, that is empty. And that is exactly what I was experiencing. And I was. But the other thing, oh my God, the other thing. The guys at this show see, okay, I was raised without porn. So I have always loved real women and real women's bodies. It never occurred to me to weigh in judgment and these fucking assholes. When non stripper women, real women would get on stage, they would yell shit like, you know, stop eating the donuts, get a boob job, you're ugly, that kind of thing. And it was so infuriating to me because this was really important to me and they were fucking up my shit. And I remember distinctly thinking, this is supposed to be a house of worship, you know, and you are turning it into a den of fucking idiocy. If I had had a whip of cords, I would have, you know, so I was, you know, pouring my heart out about my depression. Because the other thing is like, you know, an experience like this leaves you feeling sullen and dirty and awful and you're thinking, oh, my God, baby, Jesus was right about everything, you know. And so I was pouring my heart out to this bartender and she said, dave, I think you need to wait until spring break and then go to South Florida to see the real thing. Spring break, I take two of my friends, fellow grad students, just as clueless as I am, you know, like, we literally drive around going, where are the girls at? You know, and we're going on our spring break. And for me, this is the first spring break of my life, the first time I've ever done it really decently because I was raised a fundamentalist, I was a devout young man, and so forth. Spring break, literally all through college for spring break, I did missionary work in Mexico, except for one year when we went to San Diego and handed out literature on the beach. So this is my chance. And I'm 30, I'm not getting any younger. I'm not getting any less creepy. I can just pass for 26 if I'm fucking lucky. So I. And if it screws up, I don't know what to do. So we drive south, way south. We go past the Fountain of Youth, you know, we go past St. Augustine, we go to Key west, and literally we drive for so long, we come in at like 9, 10 o'clock at night, drop our stuff off at the hotel and go, where's the wet T shirt contest? It was two doors down at Rum Runners in Key West. And I go. And I am shaking, terrified and anxious, you know, partly because, of course, you know, I'm still terrified that sex is evil and I'm just going to take over my life and, you know, that kind of thing. And feeling guilty for even being here. What if someone notices? And also because I need this to work and if it screws up, I don't know where to go. If you haven't been to a wet T shirt contest, here's how it works. They get a bunch of volunteers, bunch of women, one at a time, who are doused with water, and they prance around and they have a vote, kind of applause vote. And people who get a lot of applause are invited to come back. People who don't, don't. So I'm sitting front row in a courtyard like 400 drunken college kids. And one of the early things that happens that strikes me as odd is instead of one woman, three women, come on, they're like sorority girls and they're obviously hammered already. And they just start making out with each other and grinding up against each other and sort of like you know, rubbing. And I think, boy, that is so. That's a little much for me. And it comes time to vote, and I'm like. And around me, everyone is like, well, I looked in shock. I thought for sure. 400 people, drunk college students. And this was a little much for them. We have aesthetic standards. So that was a little shocking to me. Then the next thing that happened is this tiny, willowy white girl came on with her girlfriend, you know, lesbian girlfriend person, and her huge girlfriend. Her girlfriend was this enormous, overweight black woman. And I thought, oh, God, here it comes. You know, this is where all the drunken assholes, you know, get their yaya's out. And nothing happened. They were dancing, and they were clearly having the time of their lives. That was so infectious. And everyone applauded. They got more applause than the sorority girls. And I thought, good, keep it up. So we're down to the last two women, and at this point, both women are naked. Because even you start with a T shirt. Where do you go? And I felt the feminist core in me was feeling guilty about this. But then I saw how much they were smiling, and I realized, oh, right, if you told me that if I walked on stage naked, 500 people would cheer, you wouldn't even have to pay me, you know. So I made peace with that. But what happened? These two women were basically equal. That was the problem. One would come out and dance and we would applaud, and another one would come out and dance and we would applaud and nothing would happen. We couldn't decide. And they went around one time, two times, three times, four times. And I kept thinking, this is so unfair because one of these women is going to get $200 for first prize, and one is going to get 50. And that's just a shame. I no sooner thought this than a guy jumped out of the crowd on a stage, and he and his friends had collected $60 to make up the difference just a little for the second place person. And I thought, that's it. It's like a big hand just checked it off the list. It was like, I'm done. I am no longer obsessed with this. I've seen the best. And it was funny. It was nice. I thought this whole time I had been seeking that woman in the van. But what I was really looking for was proof that you could like sex and be a decent human being, that you could have titties and niceness. And so I went home, just completely delighted. The next day, we were there for another day. My roommates and I wanted, my roommates wanted to go back because that was a great show. And I said, you know what? Philadelphia Story is on. I think I'll settle in. And I watched Philadelphia Story and then I watched Lilies of the Field with Sidney Poitier helping out a bunch of nuns. And they came back hours later looking stricken. I said, how did it go? And all I heard, my one guy said it wasn't as good, but I knew because the thing they didn't teach me in school that I had learned from that evening was that when a miracle happens, you don't go back and revisit it. You let that butterfly land in your hand and you do not clutch. You let it go because you don't need to hold it. Because what I learned is that one really good night can make up for years of repression. Thank you.