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Andy Borowitz
Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Andy Borowitz. The Moth features true stories told live without notes. All stories on the 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 the story you are about to hear by Frank D'Amico was recorded live at the Moth mainstage. The theme of the night is was man and beast.
Frank D'Amico
When I was 15 years old, my father had decided that it was time to pull his strings at the sheriff's office and get me my deer hunting license and get me into the woods to get my first kill. This, to me was a little unsettling. I never had aspired to be a hunter. In fact, I had just moved in with this fellow. The first several years of my life. I had been living in children's homes and foster homes and other child care institutions. And when I was 12 years old, I went to live with my mom. But she ran off with a man that she met in Puerto Rico while she was vacationing. So now, at 15 years old, I had to go live with this fellow, Tony D'Amico, my dad, who I barely knew. He was a bit of a hard hat wearing, nut scratching, football watching, beer guzzling, kind of outdoorsy, macho man that I learned very quickly. And though I barely knew him in the, in the county of Dutchess where he's from, in the world of hunting and fishing, he. He is a celebrity. He is a legend. If you are interested at all in those sports, you know who Tony D'Amico is. And I guess now that he had a teenage son of his very own. He of course wanted me to excel in these areas, hunting and fishing. So I believe we were only a matter of days away from deer hunting season when the old man dragged my 15 year old ass out into the backyard where he had stacked up a couple of bales of hay and attached a target to the front of them. And then he handed me a loaded 12 gauge shotgun. I found this very unnerving. He simply told me to point the gun at the target and shoot the fucking thing. The man told me less about how to handle a 12 gauge shotgun than he might have been able to tell me about how to give a blow job. He told me nothing. He did tell me that the safety latch was off. This much I knew. I also knew that I did have to fire this gun. So I held the shotgun up to my head and aimed it at the big red spot in the middle. I didn't think I had to hit the bullseye. I figured if I got anywhere near the damn thing, if I hit the bails of hay, I'd be okay. But I was aiming my ass off at the, at the bullseye. And I aimed my ass off for quite a long time. Because the truth was, I was quite frightened to be this close to a gun. I took my sweet ass time to fire. You'd think I was daring the motherfucker to make a move. But the motivation to pull the trigger finally came in the voice of my father. He said, what are you waiting for, backup? Shoot the goddamn thing. And with That I pressed my eyes shut and pulled the trigger and fired. Kabloom. Moments later, I was getting myself up off the ground, my balls up in my belly and blood trickling down my face. You see, when I fired the gun, I'd rested the scope right up against my forehead. So the kick of the gun had the scope just about punching a hole through my skull. Be that as it may, I wiped the blood away and searched for any kind of hole in the target. And my father knew better. He didn't, he didn't bother to look. He retrieved the gun from the ground and I saw that there was no hole, that I had failed. And my father with the smoking gun in his hand looked at me and simply said. And he said this. My father said, you're one load of baby batter I should have shot down the toilet. Went into the house. Now, to my way of thinking, the idea of my going into the woods should have all ended right there. It was an absurd idea. They should all have ended right there. But my father already had five daughters. He had to break me, you see, he had to get me into the woods. He had to do what his brothers had done with their sons. Get me into the woods and get me my first friggin kill. And I think he was further compelled to get me to do this because that semester I broke new ground at Arlington High School by being the first boy ever to take home economics class. It was also that October that I enrolled in Royal Curie's dance studio and began to study ballet. But what really flipped my old man's homophobic lid was when I got my ear pierced. And for that I took a beating. So into the woods we go. The first day of deer hunting season. 5:30 in the morning, pitch black, freezing cold, November morning. I'm wearing so many layers of clothes I can barely move. And I'm following closely behind my father. And I'm very nervous that I'm going to trip up because at that point in my life I still thought it might be a bad idea to, you know, trip up and maybe shoot him in the back. So we got, I figured we must have been walking into the woods maybe 15, 20 minutes when my old man stopped him, bent over, he picked a little brown pellet up from the ground and he squished it between his fingers and he, he worked it nicely between his fingers and he seemed to be overjoyed with this thing. It was as if he found a piece of gold. And he was sniffing it, sniffing it, sniffing it. And he seemed so terribly pleased it was like he was taking in some aromatic delicacy. He then put it under my nose and informed me that the deer shit was flat fresh and this was good. We were indeed on the trail of a deer. So further into the woods we go, probably another five, six, seven minutes. My father stops again. He reaches into his camouflage jacket and pulls out a little, kind of little like spray bottle, like one of those little Visine bottles. And he unscrews the lid and hands me the teeny little bottle and says, you want to spray some of this onto your clothes. It'll keep the deer from picking up your scent. Well, I had the grand idea in a bottle. So I generous with it all over. I put some on my hunting cap, all over myself. And of course when take the lid, screw it back on, I notice the label. I am spraying myself in buck at 5:30 in a freezing cold November morning. I'm standing in the middle of the woods giving myself a golden shower with buck piss. Further we go into the woods. Now the sun starts to poke through the trees and my father finally found the spot where I am to be positioned. And he warned me not to move from this spot. He warned me that there are a lot of New York City hunters in these woods and anything that moves, they shoot. So he easily convinced me to stay there until he came back to retrieve me. And then he walked off to his post. So I sat down, I rested the gun against the tree next to me and I opened up my little brown bag of sandwiches that the stepmom had packed for me. I ate the sandwiches, I drank down the thermos of coffee, I smoked a couple of cigarettes that I stole from my sister Elizabeth before I left the house that morning. All of this resulting in fucking with the bowels. But I wasn't about to take a dude in the woods because I knew these woods were full of idiots like me. And I wasn't about to have a squat and have anything dangling from my ass that might from a distance look like a tail. So I sat for a while and settled in and just kind of let my thought drift. Drifted things like, who the hell is it that runs through these woods collecting buck piss in these little bottles. When all of a sudden, all of a sudden a deer goes running by me. Like right in front of me. Very quickly in front of me. It was beautiful, gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous sight. I'd never seen one before. Seconds later, another deer run right in front of me. Goes running right in front of me. Gorgeous, gorgeous sight. Now, now I'm excited Now I'm very excited. Of course, no thought of picking up the gun ever occurs. I just want to see these freaking deer. So now I'm. I'm looking through the woods all wide eyed and whatnot, looking for more. And I remember the snow began to come down and I'm just looking, looking through the woods, you know. And then here comes another deer. But this one is not running through the woods. This one is just kind of leisurely trotting through the woods. And it is about, I would say 10, 12ft from me. And it stops right in front of me and it looks at me, just stares at me. Chilled my shit to stone, man. Magnificent, beautiful beast. A big broad rack of antlers and his keen brown eyes was, was really like taking me in, you know, and. And I remember being overwhelmed with this kind of like a peaceful enchantment, you know. And the only sound I could hear was like the snow falling on the dried leaves all around me, making that kind of crispy, clattery sound. I looked at the deer and the deer looked at me. And I am apologizing telepathically. I am apologizing to the deer. I'm sorry, I don't. This is not my gun. I don't mean to be here. I don't want to do this. And the deer seems to be forgiving. And I am overwhelmed with a feeling of warmth. And I feel like I am indirectly meeting God. And then, blam. Just like that. I never saw him fall. I'd fallen back from the sound of the gunshot myself. Eyes cringed shut. And by time I got back up, I could hear my father yelling, frankie, get over here. Frankie, get over here. I had no idea he was this nearby. As it turned out, the first two deer that run, run by. He had been chasing them in hopes that I would get my first kill. But this one, he had to. He couldn't take it any longer. He had to shoot this one. And the sound of the gun was still echoing through the woods when my father called for me to come running. I got myself together and went over and stood over the deer. And blood was oozing from its nostrils and from its mouth. And I remember it was giving its final kicks of life. And I felt like we should walk off and maybe let the animal die in dignity, you know? Then I. I looked up at my father. My father was gleaming, glowing with pride. And. And so it was. It would become the nature of our relationship from there on. And that, that the, that the proudest moments for my father would end up being usually very devastating for me and my proudest moments would usually be very embarrassing for him. Thank you.
Andy Borowitz
Frank D'Amico is a writer, performer and teacher, creator and the star of several solo shows including First Kill and Severity of My Solitude. The Moth is a non profit organization. Consider supporting our free podcast by going to our podcast contribution page or by becoming a moth member@themoth.org you can also buy moth stories on CD including today's story, which is featured on audience favorites volume three. Our podcast host, Andy Borowitz is a comedian, actor and writer whose work appears regularly in the New Yorker, the New York times, and@borowitzreport.com thanks to Maz Swift for our podcast Music. For more information about Maz, visit mazmusic.com that's M A Z Z M U Z I K.com and please tell us what you thought of today's episode. What would you like to hear more of or less of? Email us@podcast themoth.org thanks to all of you for listening. We hope you have a story worthy week. Podcast Audio production by Paul Ruest at the Argo Network Podcast hosting by PRX Public Radio Exchange helping make public radio more public@prx.org.
Episode Details:
In the episode titled "First Kill," Frank D'Amico shares a poignant and intense personal story about his tumultuous relationship with his father and his harrowing experience during his first deer hunt. Recorded live at The Moth Mainstage, Frank's narrative delves deep into themes of masculinity, expectation, and the profound impact of familial relationships.
Frank begins by setting the stage of his tumultuous upbringing. Raised in various children's and foster homes, he eventually moves in with his father, Tony D'Amico, at the age of 15. Frank describes his father as a quintessential "macho man"—outdoorsy, football-obsessed, and a local legend in hunting and fishing within Dutchess County.
[02:50] Frank D'Amico: "He was a bit of a hard hat wearing, nut scratching, football watching, beer guzzling, kind of outdoorsy, macho man..."
Frank had little prior relationship with his father, making the transition challenging. His father’s decision to involve him in deer hunting was an attempt to bond and instill traditional masculine values, especially as Frank diverged from these norms by pursuing interests like ballet and taking home economics—a first for his high school.
Frank recounts the night before deer hunting season, where his father insists it’s time for him to earn his hunting license and make his first kill. The experience is fraught with tension and fear as Frank grapples with handling a loaded shotgun with minimal instruction.
[02:50] Frank D'Amico: "...he dropped a loaded 12 gauge shotgun on me and told me to shoot the fucking thing."
Overwhelmed and anxious, Frank contemplates the gravity of the situation, fearing both the weapon and the implications of failing his father's expectations. After a tense moment of hesitation, prompted by his father's insistence, Frank fires the gun, resulting in a horrific accident where the shotgun's kick injures him.
[05:00] Frank D'Amico: "And with that I pressed my eyes shut and pulled the trigger and fired. Kabloom. Moments later, I was getting myself up off the ground, my balls up in my belly and blood trickling down my face."
Despite the accident, Frank fails to hit the target, leading to further disappointment from his father, who harshly criticizes him.
[07:35] Frank D'Amico: "My father said, you're one load of baby batter I should have shot down the toilet."
Undeterred by the initial failure, Frank’s father takes him into the woods for the first day of deer hunting season. The early morning is freezing and dark, heightening Frank's nerves about the upcoming hunt.
[09:15] Frank D'Amico: "5:30 in the morning, pitch black, freezing cold, November morning."
As they trek deeper into the woods, Frank begins to observe signs of deer activity, such as fresh deer droppings, which his father uses to track potential deer locations. Despite his discomfort and apprehension, Frank becomes inadvertently immersed in the experience.
[12:45] Frank D'Amico: "I am spraying myself in buck at 5:30 in a freezing cold November morning... giving myself a golden shower with buck piss."
As the day progresses, Frank experiences a serene and almost spiritual moment when a majestic deer approaches him. This peaceful encounter starkly contrasts with the inherent violence of hunting, leading to an internal conflict.
[14:20] Frank D'Amico: "I felt like I am indirectly meeting God."
The unexpected beauty and tranquility of the deer momentarily dissolve Frank’s apprehensions, allowing him to connect deeply with nature. However, this moment is abruptly shattered when another deer appears, and his father, in pursuit, ultimately shoots it.
[16:00] Frank D'Amico: "Then I looked up at my father. My father was gleaming, glowing with pride."
The aftermath of the kill leaves Frank grappling with mixed emotions—pride for his father and discomfort with the violence he was compelled to participate in. This event cements a complicated dynamic in their relationship, where Frank’s achievements often bring pride to his father but personal fulfillment remains elusive.
Frank concludes his story by reflecting on how his father's expectations and the hunting experience shaped their relationship. He highlights a recurring pattern where his father's proud moments often coincide with his own personal struggles, leading to a strained and challenging familial bond.
[16:30] Frank D'Amico: "The proudest moments for my father would end up being usually very devastating for me and my proudest moments would usually be very embarrassing for him."
This poignant realization underscores the enduring impact of their interactions and the complexities of seeking approval within familial relationships.
Frank D'Amico's "First Kill" is a heartfelt exploration of identity, expectation, and the quest for acceptance. Through vivid storytelling, Frank captures the emotional turmoil of a young man navigating his father's rigid ideals while striving to forge his own path. The narrative serves as a reflection on the broader themes of masculinity, familial pressure, and the search for personal meaning amidst imposed traditions.
Handling the Shotgun:
Post-Accident Reflection:
Father’s Criticism:
Serene Encounter with Deer:
Complex Relationship Dynamics:
Frank D'Amico's storytelling in "First Kill" is a masterful blend of humor, tragedy, and introspection. By sharing his vulnerable experiences, Frank invites listeners to reflect on their own relationships and the often unspoken expectations that shape them. This narrative not only entertains but also resonates on a deeply personal level, exemplifying The Moth’s mission to highlight genuine human experiences through the art of storytelling.