The Moth Radio Hour: Fathers

Summary

The Moth Radio Hour: Fathers Release Date: June 17, 2025
Host/Producer: Jay Allison, The Moth
Produced by: Atlantic Public Media, Woods Hole, Massachusetts

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Introduction

The Moth Radio Hour’s episode titled "Fathers" delves into the profound and varied experiences of fatherhood, paternity, and paternal relationships. Hosted by Jay Allison, this episode features a collection of compelling true stories narrated live by individuals who share their unique journeys involving fathers, grandfathers, stepfathers, and the transformative moments of becoming a parent themselves. Through vivid storytelling, listeners are invited to explore the complexities, challenges, and deep emotional bonds that define the paternal role.

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Andrew Postman: Conquering the Fainting Bug to Embrace Fatherhood

Timestamp: 02:29 – 15:15

Andrew Postman opens his narrative by recounting his lifelong struggle with fainting spells, a condition that often placed him on the edge in intense moments. Starting with his first fainting episode at his cousin's bris at 18 years old, Andrew describes how these incidents plagued him through emotional and stressful situations, including witnessing violent film scenes and medical procedures.

Notable Quote:

“I think telling myself this made me feel somehow morally pure, as if it was something that it was good that I had gone through.”
— Andrew Postman [09:45]

Despite these challenges, Andrew's story takes a pivotal turn with the birth of his first son. Determined to be present during the delivery, he prepares meticulously by watching intense film scenes to mentally steel himself. However, faced with the sudden emergency of a breech birth, Andrew experiences a life-altering moment of vulnerability. Holding his newborn son, he finally overcomes his fainting episodes, symbolizing a profound personal transformation.

Two years later, during the birth of his second son, Andrew confronts his fears once more in an amniocentesis procedure. As he nears fainting again, his wife, Alex, displays remarkable strength and quick thinking, saving both Andrew and their unborn child. This near-tragic event forces Andrew to confront his fears head-on, leading him to embrace fatherhood with renewed courage and resilience.

Key Insights:

• The journey from fear and avoidance to embracing responsibility.
• The symbolic overcoming of personal vulnerabilities through the act of fatherhood.
• The vital role of a supportive partner in navigating life’s extreme moments.

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Boris Timonofsky: Honoring Ancestral Memories

Timestamp: 20:36 – 36:33

Boris Timonofsky shares a poignant story about his attempt to honor his late grandfather’s memory during a business trip to Russia. Tasked by his mother with distributing secondhand clothes and visiting his grandfather’s grave, Boris’s journey becomes an exploration of family legacy and personal connection.

Upon arriving at the cemetery, Boris struggles to locate his grandfather's grave without the provided map. He interacts with a cemetery attendant and an inquisitive young boy who assist him in searching through multiple graves bearing the same name. Despite identifying 17 possible graves, Boris is unable to discern his grandfather’s resting place solely based on the lack of portraits distinguishing each tombstone.

Notable Quote:

“And if this is really my grandfather who's laying there, then all is well and good and he got the most. But if not, then let this be a consolation to the stranger.”
— Boris Timonofsky [34:30]

In a moment of reflection, Boris decides to place an additional flower on the graves he visits, creating a gesture of both hope and consolation. The following day, upon returning home, Boris learns that his mother's second cousin saw the flowers, confirming his visit's authenticity and deepening his connection to his heritage.

Key Insights:

• The emotional complexity of reconnecting with ancestral roots.
• The struggle between fulfilling familial expectations and personal uncertainty.
• The enduring impact of family stories and memories across generations.

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Anneliese Rakiz: Navigating Stepfather Relationships

Timestamp: 20:36 – 36:33

Anneliese Rakiz narrates her experiences growing up with a stepfather named Bill amidst her mother's turbulent relationship with her biological father. Her Palestinian father’s mental illness led to the family's move to live with grandparents until Bill entered their lives, bringing stability and structure.

Initially, Anneliese and Bill share a tumultuous relationship marked by frequent arguments and defiance. One significant source of conflict arises during mealtime, particularly over eating vegetables like Brussels sprouts. Anneliese’s inventive attempts to dodge vegetables lead to a memorable incident where she tries to dispose of them discreetly in the bathroom, only to be thwarted by Bill’s keen observation.

Notable Quote:

“When Bill first saw my brother and I, people were saying there was something wrong with us. But he took one look at us and he said, they're just depressed.”
— Anneliese Rakiz [31:01]

Despite the rocky start, their relationship evolves as Bill becomes more understanding and supportive, especially after Anneliese later learns of his battle with Alzheimer's disease. The culmination of their bond is beautifully illustrated when Anneliese recounts bringing humor into their strained relationship by sharing a story of her vegetable antics, which elicited laughter from Bill even in his condition.

Key Insights:

• The dynamic challenges and eventual bonding in stepfather-stepchild relationships.
• The role of humor and shared experiences in healing and forming deep connections.
• The impact of parental substitutes in providing emotional stability.

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Dori Samadzai Bonner: A Daughter’s Witness to Her Father’s Turmoil

Timestamp: 38:34 – 56:37

Dori Samadzai Bonner provides a gripping account of her family's harrowing escape from war-torn Afghanistan to the United States. Growing up during the Russian occupation, Dori grapples with her father’s mysterious absences and the harsh realities of war, including bombings that brought constant fear to her childhood.

Upon escaping to the U.S. with forged papers, Dori's family is granted temporary asylum, but their sense of security is shattered during an immigration appointment that nearly results in deportation. Faced with the possibility of becoming traitors, Dori becomes the family's translator, navigating the tense and demeaning interactions with immigration officials.

Notable Quote:

“Through my children, my two-year-old son and my unborn child, I will make sure that this gratitude that overflows in my heart every single day will continue to live on long after I am gone.”
— Dori Samadzai Bonner [54:24]

The climax of Dori’s story occurs during a courtroom confrontation where her father, under immense stress, reveals the physical and emotional scars inflicted by the communist regime. This brave and vulnerable act of sharing his painful history persuades the judge to grant their asylum, allowing Dori’s family to remain in the United States.

Reflecting on her journey, Dori emphasizes the significance of securing a safe and hopeful future for her children, symbolizing her unwavering gratitude and determination to honor her family’s resilience.

Key Insights:

• The profound impact of war and displacement on familial relationships.
• The emotional burdens of immigration and the fight for asylum.
• The intergenerational commitment to securing a better future.

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Conclusion

The Moth Radio Hour: Fathers masterfully weaves together diverse narratives that highlight the multifaceted nature of fatherhood and paternal relationships. From overcoming personal fears to honoring ancestral legacies, and from navigating stepfather dynamics to surviving the trials of immigration, each story underscores the resilience, love, and profound impact that fathers and paternal figures have on their families. Through these heartfelt and transformative tales, listeners gain a deeper appreciation for the complexities and enduring bonds that define the paternal role.

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Production Credits

• Host/Producer: Jay Allison
• Directors: Katherine Burns, Maggie Sino
• Directorial Staff: Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin, Janess, Jennifer Hickson, Meg Bowles
• Production Support: Whitney Jones
• Recording: Argo Studios, New York City, supervised by Paul Ruest
• Music: The Drift (theme), Chandler Travis and various bands
• Funding: Corporation for Public Broadcasting, National Endowment for the Arts, John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation
• Special Thanks: Odyssey, Executive Producer Leah Rhys Dennis

For more stories and information on pitching your own story, visit themoth.org.

Transcript

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[Jay Allison]

This is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jay Allison, producer of this radio show, and I'll be your host for this episode about our fathers, grandfathers, stepfathers, and our first story about becoming a dad yourself, a moment that's transformative. For most men, it's the moment you join the generational flow, when you play an actual role in the continuity of the species and you discover the wild love that, as it turns out, was lying dormant, waiting for that moment of birth to flame into being. Before you get there, though, there's the actual process of birth to go through. Admittedly quite a bit easier for men than for women, but for for some, like our next storyteller, still a challenge. Here's Andrew Postman from a moth show with the theme Guts Stories from the Razor's edge.

[Andrew Postman]

I was 18 the first time I fainted my cousin's bris. He was 8 days old and he was to be circumcised. It was summer, very hot and overcrowded room, and someone pushed a movie camera into my hands and told me to film it. For some reason I listened and I put my finger on the zoom button and as the moil was about to do his business, I remember hearing my mother call out to my father and say, neil, catch Him. And I wondered who she was talking about. The next thing, someone was loosening my belt, so someone else was loosening my tie. And as I realized what had happened and the commotion I must have made by fainting, I looked up and I was panicked that what I had done might have made the moil miss. But he looked down at me and he assured me that almost every time he did this, he lost at least one man. So I was in good company. A little less than a year later, I was in college. I fainted for the second time. This time it was in a movie. And I wish I could tell you it was a hyper violent film like the Salvador Dali movie, where someone apparently takes a razor blade and slices open an eyeball. But I believe I am the only person ever to faint at an Ingmar Bergman movie. It was Cries and Whispers. And the woman who, not surprisingly, was in a tragically unhappy marriage is in her nightgown, sitting in front of her vanity. And I won't go into detail except to say that lots of little bits of glass and blood were involved. I felt my head getting snowy and I whispered to my friend that I had to get out. And because it was a school classroom, it was those chairs with the desk tables, and it was very hard to sidestep. The next thing I remember, I was looking up at blackness and I heard the crackling of a walkie talkie that the campus policemen carry around. And I remember hearing, man down, film society. The next time I fainted was also in a movie, only this time it was not from something I saw, but something I heard. Again, I wish I could tell you it was a Sam Peckinpah film, but in fact, the movie was all that Jazz, the story of choreographer Bob Fosse. In the movie, Roy Scheider, who plays Bob Fosse, is about to have open heart surgery. And at this point, I knew myself well enough to cover my eyes, but I didn't cover my ears. And the sound of the rib stretcher with its twisting, cranking, almost metallic sound of pulling the ribs apart was too much for me to bear. I expanded my fainting repertoire the next time when I was fitted for contact lenses. My eye doctor said he'd never had a patient. He couldn't get the lens in. And he kept coming at me and I kept pulling away. And he said, you know, women are usually better at this than men because from the time they were little girls, they're putting on makeup so they're used to touching around their eyes, but I'll get it. And he kept trying, and I pulled away like a fish on a hook. And he said, you are one of the tough ones, but I'll get it. And I remember the last time he came at me, I could see the lens. And I thought we were going to do it this time. I remember looking up at him from the floor of his office. And he looked over and he said, you really are one of the worst patients I've had. And I proceeded to throw up all over. I got to my feet. He helped me down the corridor. We got to the reception area. And I threw up all over the reception area. And in disgust, he waved me away, told me to go home for a week and practice in front of the mirror, touching my own eye. I thanked him, I apologized. And I threw up all over the entrance to the office. There are about a half dozen other episodes. I won't go into detail, but. But my friends and family laughed at the idea of my being a surgeon or even a soldier. And a friend of mine said, I'm just going to tell you the Plateau Reservoir Dogs because you're never going to see it. And when my wife got pregnant, everyone just sort of assumed that there would be no way that I could be in the delivery room. In fact, I'd probably be barred from the delivery room. But I wanted to prove that they were wrong, and I wanted to be there. So I went into training and I rented Godfather 2. And with the remote control in my left hand and my finger on the step frame, super slow mo button. I watched this scene where Robert De Niro plunges his dagger into the belly of the Sicilian crime lord who had killed his mother years before. And. And frame by frame, I watched him gut the man as the knife rode up his chest. I rented Reservoir Dogs and watched the notorious scene over and over. Where Michael Madsen slices off the ear of the policeman. And when my wife's water broke, I felt that I was about as ready or unready as any other expectant father. We drove to the hospital. We got into the delivery room. Everything was going well. She asked me if I was okay, and I said I was, and I thought I was. And everything was going fine. And then suddenly everything was not going fine. And lots of meconium was coming out of her. And the obstetrician went over and felt her belly. And I could see something was wrong. And he said that as the baby was coming down the chute, he had folded back and was breech. And he was going to have to do an emergency C section. The phrase emergency C section is not something anyone wants to hear, but someone who has fainted at the movie. All that jazz really doesn't want to hear it. And as my wife was wheeled into the operating room and I was given hospital scrubs, I went in. I sat next to her. She couldn't see anything. There was a sheet between herself and her belly. I couldn't see anything either, but I could see the flash of the sharp instruments the doctor was going to use. She asked me if I was okay, and I said yes. And I was holding her hands, but I did keep an especially wide base in case anything happened. And the thing that I had not expected is how quickly everything would happen. And before I knew it, I saw the baby lifted up above the sheet, kind of like Simba at the beginning of Lion King. And I looked over, and it was this pink, slimy, very bloody thing, and it wasn't moving. And it felt like a year passed and I was looking at it. And as soon as the baby started to squirm, I felt myself stand up from the stool, rise up, and I felt as strong and solid and certain on my legs as I'd ever felt before, I think more than any biped had ever felt before. And besides the thrill of being a new father, I remember telling myself and others later that I had vanquished the fainting bug because I had now seen blood in its most elemental way. I was seeing it doing what it's supposed to do, which is give life, rather than seeing it spurt out of stumps and parts of bodies and be the result of mutilation and violence. And I think telling myself this made me feel somehow morally pure, as if it was something that it was good that I had gone through. And I wish I could tell you that was the end of the story. Two years later, my wife was present, pregnant again. And I told her I was going in with her to the amnio. I would help her get through it, even though she had a stomach of steel. And we all knew my history. And we went in, and I was standing next to her and holding her hand, and I said, just focus on me. I'll help you get through this. I said, I'm going to give you state, and you give me a capital, and before you know it, it will be over. And the doctor plunged the big horse needle into her abdomen to bring out the amniotic fluid. And I said to Alex, my wife, I said, california. And she said, sacramento. And I said, good, good. And out of the corner of my eye, I could see the beginning of the pinkish fluid starting to fill up the syringe. And I said, kentucky. And she said, lexington. And I said, actually, it's Frankfurt, but a lot of people think it's Lexington. And I couldn't help. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the fluid, a sort of grapefruit juice color, starting to fill up. And I said to her, nebraska. And she said, lincoln. I said, that's good. And I looked over, and now I saw that the needle was almost completely filled. And I said, nebraska. And she said, you just said Nebraska. I said, no, I didn't. And I knew that I wanted to say Nebraska again. But suddenly it felt as if there were marbles in my mouth. I passed out, and the entire dead weight of my body was now heading toward her pregnant belly with the giant needle stuck in it, the end of which was maybe an inch from our unborn child, child's body. To this day, I do not know how she did it, but from her back, my wife reached out her arm, half traffic cop, half superhero, and put it on my chest and stopped my momentum, this dead weight of her husband falling on and possibly killing our child. She held me up and she pushed me away, and I crumpled unconscious on the floor. About an hour later, as I was sitting on the curb on the Upper east side in the sunlight, trying to get my wits about me, dazed and woozy, I was repulsed by what I had just almost done. I was inconsolable. And I just kept shaking my head, thinking, this cannot happen anymore. This cannot. How can I do this? Alex tried to make me feel better, but I thought, this is unacceptable for a grown human being. For a father, it can't happen. And it forced me to think about what fainting really is to me. And what I thought is fainting is really about skipping time. It's really an end around on the most intense, raw moments in life, real or imagined, A way not to confront them, not to meet them, to get around them. And if it means going unconscious, fine. And I said, this can never happen again. And when those moments come, I will face them, and I will face them even longer than they need to be faced as a man and as a father. Six months later, our second son was born. Everything went fine, and the doctor gave me the forceps to hold the umbilicus while he was going to cut it. Normally, I would want to look away. I would want not even to feel the tension, but I remember forcing myself to hold onto it, to feel that kind of eelish, ropey, uneven, curling, pink, bloody tension. And even after he cut it and I could have let go, I made myself look at it. It was almost like something that had been skinned alive. And yet it was life. And even after he cut it, I held on just for one moment longer. Thank you.

[Jay Allison]

That was Andrew Postman. Andrew has written more than a dozen books, including the novel Now I Know Everything. He lives in Brooklyn. Sam, the C section son lifted up like Simba, is now a strapping 16 year old. Charlie, the son Andrew nearly killed by fainting on the giant amnion needle stuck in his mother's belly, a scene I probably don't need to remind you about, is now 14 years old. And in the decade and a half since that moment, Andrew has not fainted again. Not even when his now 9 year old daughter, Nell came into this world. Coming up, more stories of fathers, grandfathers and stepfathers. Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.

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[Jay Allison]

This is the Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jay Allison. In this hour, stories about all kinds of fathers. As a parent, you wonder, what stories will your children tell about you? It's worth thinking about, so maybe you can give them a few good ones and hope they stick. Our next two stories are about a grandfather and a stepfather. First up, Boris Timinofsky, whose dedication to the memory of his ancestors is subject to debate, but he tells a good story about it. Here's Boris at a Moth show in New York City.

[Boris Timonowski]

Thank you.

[Anneliese Rakiz]

Last summer, after 16 years of absence, I went to the city in Russia where I grew up. I went there in company business. And I was bringing with me a suitcase filled with secondhand clothes that my mom asked me to distribute among her relatives there. I was really the first in my family to go back there after all those years. And she also gave me a hand drawn map showing the location of my grandfather's grave at the local cemetery. And she asked me to go there. And when I was leaving, she asked me again, are you going to go there? Yes. Promise? Promise. It was really important for her that I go there. My grandfather died when I was little and she wanted me to remember him. She would tell me stories about him. I guess it was all a part of dealing with the loss. He was still very much alive in her mind. And she wanted him to continue to live in my mind too. But I was just too little when it all happened. So I didn't remember much. So I thought maybe this visit to his grave at the cemetery for her would make things up, would make up for what she thought was her loss, her failure in keeping his memory alive. So I promised that the first thing I do when I get there would be go to the cemetery. Well, the first thing I did when I got there was locate my high school girlfriend. And I got caught up in work. And I had a lot of catching up to do with my childhood friends. So it wasn't until a day before I was leaving that I actually found time to go to the cemetery. And it was late in the afternoon. And right by the entrance there was a woman who was selling flowers. And by then she only had seven carnations left in her bucket. And I bought them all. But when I reached for my wallet, I realized I didn't have the map with me. I had no idea what happened to that map. And I had no idea where my grandfather's grave was located. I could call my mom and ask her. There was a payphone right there. And I still had 10 or 15 minutes left on my calling card. And it was already morning in New York. But the problem was I had already told her that I went to the cemetery. And really, what was I going to say? That I decided to go again but lost the map. She knows who she's dealing with. She should see right through it. So I thought I'd find some help. And I went to look for the main office, and I found the main office. And it was actually in the middle of the cemetery. And it Occupied an actual family mausoleum. So I figured some affluent family must have commissioned it for themselves, but then maybe immigrated to the United States. So the management took advantage of the opportunity and moved right in. And fortunately for me, it was open. And inside was a small office filled with file cabinets. It kind of looked like a financial aid office at some community college. And behind the counter was an old woman. She was reading. And she said, yes, she'd help me locate my grandfather's records. And she started looking in those file cabinets. And she was doing everything so slowly. I knew it was going to take forever. And then the backroom door opened and a little boy walked in, an eight year old, I think. And he said, grandma, I don't want to play anymore. Let's go home. And I could see through the door that there was a computer in the back room with Pacman or something like that on the screen. And she says, do grandma a favor, Go do a grave identification search. The name is Abraham Pekarsky. And the boy says, yeah, should I look in the mass graves too? And she turns to me and she says, did you say he died in the war? No, he died in the early 70s. So the boy went back inside, and a couple of minutes later he comes back with a printout. And I was going to reach for it, but the boy's grandmother says, no, no, let me see it first. It's $5 per grave. And I say, well, is there more than one? She says, yes, there is always more than one. So it turned out there were 17 Abraham Pekarskis on the list. And I paid for two. The two who died in the early 70s and whose age, I believe closely matched my grandfather's. And I went to look for them. I was hoping that at least one of them would have a portrait on the tombstone. At least it is the custom with the Russian immigrants here in New York to put portraits on tombstone. So I thought, this way I'll know which grave is mine. And I was walking through the cemetery and lots of tombstones had portraits on them. And I was looking at the faces and I was thinking that the faces I saw there didn't look quite as happy as the faces that I see on our Russian tombstones here in Brooklyn. So I thought that maybe to have immigrated wasn't such a bad thing after all. Maybe all those immigrants did find that that happened is the day that they went after. So I found the first grave, and it said Abraham Pekarski on it. But there was no portrait. It was an inscription from the loving wife. And Children. I had no idea whether this was the right one or not. So I went to look for the other one. I found it, too. And that one was virtually indistinguishable from the first one. Even the granite was of the same color. It said, Abraham Pekarski. No portrait. The inscription was slightly different. It said, from the grieving family. So I had really no idea what to do. Was my family the loving one or the grieving one? I was standing there and I was waiting. I was thinking maybe some sort of a special feeling would come to me. I thought maybe I'd feel some sort of a kinship with the person who was laying there. But I just kept wondering whether this wasn't a total stranger who was buried there. I tried to remember all I knew about my grandfather. He was a locksmith. He was a father of three. One of them died in the war. He was a soccer fan. He died from a heart attack. Who was this Abraham Picarski? A dentist. An auto accident victim. I really didn't know. I put three carnations on that grave. And I went back to the first one. I stood there, too, for a while. And again I was hoping that I'd feel something special. But it was getting late. And I remember that I had yet to pack for the trip back to New York. So I put three more carnations. Well, I put three carnations on this grave. And I stood there with the last flower in my hands. And I didn't really know what to do with that one. Which Abraham Pekarski should it go to? Should I just get rid of it? Should I take a flower from another grave, maybe. And make sure that each Abraham Pekarski gets the equal number of flowers? I couldn't leave. I had to come up with some sort of a formula. And then suddenly, I knew what to do. I put that flower on that same grave where I was standing. I thought, if this is really my grandfather who's laying there, then all is well and good and he got the most. But if not, then let this be a consolation to the stranger. Because it wasn't his, but somebody else's grandson. Who came all the way from America to pay his respect. And I left. I went to the hotel. And I never found that map again. I flew back to New York the next day. Mom and dad picked me up at the airport. They have this thing about picking me up at airports. Really? I would have been home at least an hour sooner if it wasn't for them. First they couldn't find the parking. Then they Went to look for me at the wrong terminal. Then they lost each other. Finally, finally I found them. I found them. And on the way home from the airport in the car, my mom started crying. And I asked, mom, why are you crying? It's only been a week. And she says, I'm just so happy that you took the time to visit your grandfather's grave. It really means so much to me. I appreciate it. When you called and told me you went there, I thought you were just saying it to make me feel good. But this morning, when I was still in the air, her second cousin, who still lives in Russia, called her and told her that she had just come from the cemetery and that she saw my flowers there. So my mom really knew that I went there and she stopped crying. And she was sitting there and she was wiping her eyes. And I was thinking, should I ask her how many. How many flowers her second cousin saw? 3 or 4. But then decided that maybe I should just not say anything at all. Thank you.

[Jay Allison]

Boris Timonowski was a software developer and a playwright who lived in New York. Boris told stories in the early years of the Moth Story Slam in New York City. He passed away in 2024. We will continue to remember him through the wonderful stories he shared. Our next story is about the often unsung member of the paternal order, a stepfather. It comes from Anneliese Rakiz. At a Moth Story Slam in Chicago.

[Dori Samadzai Bonner]

I was saved by a large black man with a booming voice and snow white hair. When Bill first saw my brother and I, people were saying there was something wrong with us. But he took one look at us and he said, they're just depressed. I was seven years old. My Palestinian father had been diagnosed with a mental illness. And there was a lot of insanity going on in our house. And finally, when he started saying that my brother and I were not his real children, my mom decided that she had to move out. And it was sad and horrible. We went to go live with my grandparents who tried the best they could to instill some order and some calm. But I still felt lost until Bill came along. When I was in fourth grade, Bill moved in with my mom and my brother and I and everything changed. My mom worked, so he was a stay at home dad. He was the cook. He was a writer. He was a great cook. Of course, as a kid, I could have cared less about that. He had raised all of his siblings because his mom worked and we now had rules in our house. And Bill and I had a very fiery relationship from the beginning. Frequently Our conversations would end with me screaming, I hate you, I hate you. And he would say, that's okay, baby, because I love you. Which was infuriating, by the way. And then he would say, stick that lower lip out further. I can't quite see it. So I was always pushing the boundaries. I was always grounded. And one of our biggest battles was dinner time. And he wanted me to eat stuff that I did not want to eat, especially vegetables and especially Brussels sprouts. And so I became really good at sleight of hand at the dinner table. You know, I know a lot of kids do this. Like, you could scoop it off the plate into your napkin and then throw it away at the end of the meal. He caught onto that fast. He's smart. So we started having napkin check before we could leave the table. If I had something with pockets on, I'd, like, put it in my pocket, which could be disastrous if it had a lot of sauce on it. Then I devolved into. I would chew it up, but I would, like, pack it into the back of my mouth and then spit it out when I got it from the table. I was a genius. So. So this one night, we're sitting at dinner, and I've got three brussels sprouts sitting on my plate. And I'm like, I'm not eating them. And my brother starts arguing with Bill and my mom about something. And I said, can I go to the bathroom? And I got the nod because they were distracted. I scooped them into my nap, kind of ran into the bathroom, and I was like, this is brilliant. Why didn't I think, like, throw him out during the meal. Don't wait till the meal's over. So I close the bathroom door, run, raise the lid of the toilet, plop them in. And I'm just getting ready to flush the toilet when I hear, bam, bam, bam. Don't flush that toilet. They're like, can this guy see through doors? I mean, it was incredible.

[Boris Timonowski]

And I was like, but I just.

[Dori Samadzai Bonner]

Went to the bathroom. I don't care. Don't flush that toilet. You're gonna be grounded for a month. Open this door.

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[Dori Samadzai Bonner]

So I stick my hand in the toilet and take him out. Like, crap, what am I going to do with these? I mean, the bathroom was like the size of a postage stamp. I'm thinking I could jam them down, like, the tub drain, but then maybe I couldn't get them out. If I put them in the towels in the closet, he's going to look through all of them. I was like, what am I going to do? Bam, bam, bam. Open the door. And I turned around, and I was like, the window. And there's stuff on the windowsill. So I move it, I open the window, I knock out the bottom of the screen. And when I knocked it out and dropped the Brussels sprouts onto our neighbor's driveway two floors down, I also knocked out this glass jar of blue rosebud bath soaps that had a big plastic flower on top of it. It was dusty. I don't know how long it had been there. And I heard a crash on the driveway, but I thought he didn't hear it because he's banging on the door. So I closed the window, put everything back, open the door. And he comes stalking in. He's like, he knows. He looks in the toilet tank. Tank. That is good, by the way. You know, I mean, I'm glad I didn't think of it, because righty would have found it, but looks at the toilet tank, looks in the closet, and he's just getting ready to leave. And he turns and he looks at the window, and I can see, like, the wheels turning, like he knows something's off. And I'm going, go, go, go. Please go. And he goes over, moves the stuff, opens the window and sticks his head out. And he's hanging out the window. I'm not kidding. For the longest minutes of my life, just hanging there. And then slowly he straightens up. He doesn't turn around, and he goes, go to your room. So later on, years later, when we talked about it, what he told me was that the reason he was hanging out the window so long is that he was trying to contain his laughter. Because when he looked down at the driveway, what. What he saw was like a sea of broken glass, a big plastic flower, millions of little blue balls, and then three Brussels sprouts right in the middle. So Bill, he has Alzheimer's, and he is in a nursing home right now. And I don't know how much he understands when I go to visit him. But recently when I was there, I said, hey, Bill, guess what I had for dinner last night? Brussels sprouts. And he laughed.

[Boris Timonowski]

Thank you.

[Jay Allison]

That was Anneliese Rakiz. She's a Chicago based performer, writer, peace activist, and grateful mother. Her creative endeavors have ranged from leading theater workshops with incarcerated women to singing in bands and. And playing the back end of a dragon. In a moment, our final story about a father tested by extreme circumstances while his daughter bears witness. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts.

[Boris Timonowski]

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[Boris Timonowski]

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[Jay Allison]

You're listening to the Moth Radio Hour. I'm Jay Allison, producer of this radio show. Our last paternally themed story comes from Dori Samadzai Banner, a storyteller who came to us through our pitch line, which I'll tell you about afterward. Here's Dori Live at the Mall.

[Boris Timonowski]

I grew up in Afghanistan during the Russian occupation and as a child I remember my dad being gone a lot. The subject of my dad's whereabouts was somewhat taboo in my household because my mom told us we were to never ask about him. So we never did, and sometimes I wondered if he cared about me. Growing up during the war was very difficult because we had bomb explosions and missile attacks on a daily basis in the background of our lives, and by the time I was 10, these explosions were getting closer and closer to the city of Kabul where we used to live. In fact, sometimes the explosions would be so close that there's a distinct whistling sound that the missile makes right before hitting its target and you could hear that. In the meantime, there was a rumor about a regime change which was devastating news for my dad who was a high ranking officer working for the current regime and historically the new regime takes over by violently dismantling the old regime. My parents were desperate to try to get out of the country, but they couldn't because the government put a lockdown on everybody's visas. They needed everyone to stay and fight the war for them. The only way to get out of the country was on forged papers. In the early 1990s, after a daring escape in the middle of the night, my parents and my brother and I migrated to the US on forged papers and asked for political asylum. This meant that we could stay here temporarily while they reviewed our case. They gave us a work permit and driver's license, Social Security card, those type of things. So all of us started working, and our family in California helped us get settled. And five years fast forwarding our lives were so normal that the worst thing in my mind at that time was how I could get my mom to let me stay out late, like extended extending my curfew. And I am at my first job at the Men's Wearhouse, and my dad calls me, and I could hear by the certain excitement in his voice that there was something going on at home. And he tells me, you need to come home right away because there is a letter from the immigration, and I speak the best English in my household. So he wanted me to come home and translate. And for those of you who've been lucky enough not to be familiar with the immigration system, they don't send you regular updates like, hey, still thinking about you all. Haven't forgotten about you. So we were kind of puzzled by this letter and ultimately decided it was a good letter because they inquired, you know, they sent us this letter without us inquiring about it. I rush home and I find my dad and his security uniform, which he often wore. And my mom comes home, too, and my brother comes home, because my dad called all of them. And I'm sitting on the dining table and all three of them are kind of hovered over me, and they're like, kind of rushing me. Come on, come on, read it. What does it say? What does it say? And so I read just highlights really quickly. And it says, our appointment has been moved up to next week. And it says that we need to bring all of our legal documents and our family photos and things that are important. We start jumping up and down, and we're thinking, this is it. This is the appointment that we've been waiting for. And the day of our appointment, we drive about 45 minutes to downtown Los Angeles, and we go into a big government building. You walk in and there's metal detectors. We go past that and check in with security guards. We go upstairs and there's an immigration officer waiting for us. And he guides us into this room. And the moment that the doors open up, it was like all of us looked at each other. We felt like we were in the Wrong place. The people that were sitting there, they looked like they were visibly upset. Some of them were still crying. But we still went ahead and we sat down, and they told us that, just sit down until you hear your last name. After a while, my dad asked me to go and ask the security guard how long this appointment was going to take and what were we here for? Because he was dressed in his uniform, he needed to get back to work. I go up and I asked this immigration officer, hey, can you tell me how long this appointment might take? Because my dad needs to get back to work. And he says, your dad will get back to work all right, just not in this country. And it was like my heart just dropped. Going back is not an option because we're now considered traitors. And I sat down, and hesitantly, I told my dad this. And it was like the moment that I told him what the security guard said, what this immigration officer said, it was like my dad just lost all the color in his face. He just looked pale. After a while, I'm looking over at my dad. He's hunched over, and he's holding his chest, and he's visibly in some kind of pain. And this pain continues on. So I get up, and I go up to the same officer, and I ask him if I can use the phone. He says no. And then I ask him if I could use the bathroom. And he lets me. I just open up these doors, and I start rushing. There's a long hallway. I'm looking to the left. I'm looking to the right. I'm just looking for a telephone. And finally I spotted at the end of the hall. And I grab the phone, and I dial our attorney's number. Now, I was extremely upset with our attorney because we couldn't afford even our own meals yet. The only thing that we wanted to be sure that we could have was an attorney. And so for her not to be here was really upsetting to me. And this girl answers the phone. She sounds like she's about 18 years old, like my age at that time. And I have to convince her to put our attorney on the phone. And she keeps refusing. And finally I tell her, it's an emergency, Please put Jody on the phone. And as soon as I hear her voice on the other end of the phone, I just completely break down. And I explain to her that something is wrong with my dad and they won't let us get help for him. She tells me to just sit still, sit tight, and that she was going to see what she could do. And so we're sitting there, and my dad continues to be in pain. After 30 to 45 minutes later, a man walks in and says our last name. And all four of us get up and we're following him. We're not sure where, but we're following him. And we end up going into this small office, which was so small that only my dad and I could barely fit in it. And there's a man in there who's working on his desk. He didn't even acknowledge that we were standing there. He didn't speak to us one word. He just hands over this paper. And the paper said that our visa had been extended for three months so that we could go get my dad some medical help, which we did right away. And afterwards. The next three months is the worst time of my life by far. Because we're afraid of. We're fearing deportation every single day. And whenever we would see the mailman show up and put mail in our mailbox, it was like a dreaded task. None of us wanted to go and check our mailbox. And my dad's behavior was so completely over the top. He moves out of my mom's bedroom and moves into the living room. And our blinds are closed, whether it's day or nighttime. And he sleeps with a pair of clothes right next to him. And whenever he would hear footsteps, he would jump out of the couch and look through the blinds and see who it was. We finally go to our final appointment at the end of the three months, and we walk in with our attorney. And I noticed that it was a different judge who was sitting there. It was an older gentleman, and he looks really intense. And I remember the first time that I saw him in my mind, I was so intimidated by him because he wouldn't smile, he wouldn't talk or anything like that. And I was pretty intimidated because I had to translate whatever conversation was going to happen because I was our family's translator. So the judge carries on with our attorney for a little bit and then turns his attention to my dad. And after some basic questions, he gets right into it and starts asking my dad if he has a translator. My dad says, my daughter will translate for us. And he tells me what he says, Young lady, whatever I say to you, you translate exactly what I say, nothing more, nothing less. And whatever your dad says, you tell me exactly what he says, nothing more, nothing less. And I agree. He asks my dad questions, really demeaning questions, like, do I understand correctly that you came here on forged papers? And my dad starts to say, well, yes, But. And then he goes on this long explanation and then he cuts my dad off and says, I just want to hear yes or no. I don't care about the explanation. I don't need the explanation. And so they kind of. This conversation goes on like this, back and forth, and it's not going well at all. And finally he tells my dad, you know, we here in the United States do not give citizenship to people that break the law. We can't, and I won't. And as soon as I translate this to my dad, I just put my head down and I just start praying. And when I open up my eyes, I see my dad rising out of his seat and he starts unbuckling his belt, at which point I'm thinking he's completely losing his mind, because I'm not sure what he's getting ready to do. But he lifts up his shirt on the right side and in his native language, looks at the judge and says, this is what the communist did to me. He's pointing at a 4 to 5 inch knife scar. And then he pushes down his pants in the back and turns around a little bit and again says, this is what the communists did to me. Pointing at three gunshot wounds. And then he takes off his shoes and takes off his socks and points at his toes and says, this is what the communists did to me. He's pointing at his toenails, which they had tried to pull with pliers. And I remember thinking, I know I am hearing what I am hearing. But somehow everything wasn't registering. Because as I am translating these horrible things, I am also learning for the first time about my dad's whereabouts in all those times that I didn't know where he was. He was in prison, being tortured. And in that moment, I have never felt more sorrow. He continues to tell the judge, it's easy for you to judge me. You sit in that seat and you wear this robe. But if you came on this side and you looked at me, one man to another, you will see that everything I did, I did to save my children. I had no other choice. And you might deny it right now, but had it been you, I know you would do the same thing. And if you have to show the American public that you didn't take it easy on us, I understand. Send me back. I volunteer. But please let my children stay. Please give my children a new home. And then he just puts his head down and starts just crying like a baby. And the judge leaves. We're on a break. And he comes back after an hour and as soon as he enters the room I notice that he doesn't have his rope on and we thought we're still on break but he goes up to his chamber and grabs something and starts walking back down and towards us. We're pretty nervous because we're not sure why he's walking towards us and the entire time his both eyes were on my dad. He goes past me, behind me and stops right next to my dad. My dad turns his chair and looks at him up and he says, Mr. Somatzai, let me see your hand. My dad shows him his hand and he puts a stamp on my dad's hand and says, Mr. Somatzai, I would like you to be the one to stamp your children's papers together. They stamp our papers and when they move their hands it reads asylum granted. He then flips the page to my parents papers and stamps it with the same stamp. Then looks on to my dad and still puts his hand on his shoulder and says welcome to America. It took us 18 years from the day that we arrived here for me to be granted an American citizenship. On January 29, 2009, as I stood there and I was sworn in as an American citizen, I pledged allegiance to my new homeland and it is through my children, my two year old son and my unborn child in my womb that I will make sure that this gratitude that overflows in my heart every single day will continue to live on long after I am gone. Thank you.

[Jay Allison]

Dorie Samadzai Bonner is a writer and first came to the Mall through our pitch line. She's told her stories on stages around the country and has gotten a standing ovation every time. You can listen to her first moth story about her journey out of Afghanistan at themoth.org maybe you'd like to do as Dorie did and leave a short message telling us about your story. You can record it right on our site, themoth.org or call 877-799-MOTH. That's 877-799-6684. That's it for this episode of the Moth Radio Hour. We hope you'll join us next time. And that's the story from the Moth. The stories in this show. They're directed by Katherine Burns and Maggie Sino. The rest of the Moss directorial staff includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin, Janess, Jennifer Hickson and Meg Bowles. Production support from Whitney Jones. Moth stories are true, as remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Moth events are recorded by Argo Studios in New York City supervised by Paul Ruest. Our theme music is by the Drift. Other music in this hour from Chandler Travis and his various bands. You can find links to all the music we use at our website. The Moth is produced for radio by me, Jay Allison, father of five children, and I work on the show with Vicki Merrick at Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. This hour was produced with funds from the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the John D. And Catherine T. MacArthur foundation, committed to building a a more just, verdant and peaceful world. Special thanks to our friends at Odyssey, including Executive Producer Leah Rhys Dennis. For more about our podcast. For information on pitching your own story and everything else, go to our website themoth.org.

[Dori Samadzai Bonner]

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