Jennifer Hickson (16:49)

That was Dame Wilbur. She's a community educator in Detroit. She and her wife Celeste live in a rambling house with their four dogs. But she said something about the formality of telling a moth story helped her look within and decides she wants to be a writer as well. Not sure if a magic wand was involved, just that she put the plan in action, and she's currently working on her first book. To see a picture of Dame and her wife, visit our radio extras page@themost.org Now, I want to introduce you to someone very important to the moth in Michigan, Patty Wheeler. She's our local story slam producer, which means she shepherds the story slams. She manages the host and crew, and is our moth on the ground on show nights. She's one part showrunner, one part den mother, one part problem solver. Now, one of the things that regional producers do is flag the best stories and interesting storytellers. For those of us back at headquarters, I got Patty on the phone and we talked about Dame Wilburn. The first time she saw her at a slam.

Patty Wheeler (17:52)

I take notes on. On what the stories are about when the storytellers are telling. And I didn't because I couldn't stop watching her. She was so dynamic and so full of life and excitement, and everybody was just laughing their heads off and totally attentive at the same time. It was, I think, what sometimes we call the storyteller's trance happened where everybody was on the same page with her. And every time she gets up there and tells the story, it's the same thing. And she just has this connection to people that is just, it's totally wonderful.

Jennifer Hickson (18:33)

She is fun to watch and fun to hear.

Apple Product Announcer (18:35)

Yes.

Patty Wheeler (18:36)

She's so animated and just and excited. And she talks about things in a way that is so totally real and universal. Even though most of us aren't lesbian wiccans. It's really, I feel like, okay, yeah, I get it when she's talking, which is so. It's so fun.

Jennifer Hickson (18:54)

Tell me how you first came to the Moth Story Slam.

Patty Wheeler (18:58)

I first heard about the moth on the radio from wdet, actually. So I heard the Radio Hour and then there was a spot for ask for volunteers and that was how I got hooked.

Jennifer Hickson (19:14)

And what's your day job, Pen?

Patty Wheeler (19:15)

I am an event planner. Besides storytelling, I plan weddings and birthday parties and corporate events and all that kind of thing.

Jennifer Hickson (19:23)

And are you a lifelong Michigan girl? Did you grow up there?

Patty Wheeler (19:26)

Yeah, I grew up there. I've lived in several other places but Michigan. I have a tattoo of Michigan on my arm, so I can't really get away.

Jennifer Hickson (19:39)

Each of the moth's 25 story slam cities have their own regional producers. A tattoo of their home state is not a requirement, but doesn't hurt. Whenever I talk to storytellers from Michigan, they're all sure to mention that they absolutely love Patty. The Moth was lucky to find her. Coming up, a stay at home mother starts to feel her nest getting empty and ponders her next move.

Narrator (20:18)

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts and presented by PRX.

TurboTax Advertiser (20:26)

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Jennifer Hickson (21:03)

This is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jennifer Hickson. And now for another Michigan story. This one was told at a mainstage show in Lansing. Here's Tina Zimmerman Live at the moth.

Eddie Hayka (21:18)

Back in 2007, my third child was in her senior year of high school and we were celebrating all of her last things. The last football game where she would march with the marching band, her last school play, her last high school concert. I was so proud of her. I'm proud of all of my kids. But while I was very proud of her, I had this growing sense of dread for myself. I did not know what was going to come next in my life. I had been a stay at home mom for 22 years, which puts me in a special class of dinosaur. There aren't many of us who do that anymore. I loved everything about being a mom. I loved having babies. People warn you about the terrible twos and about the teenage years. And to be really honest, I loved all that too. Not every day, but I loved every phase of it. I loved being a mom. Along with being a mom, I was also one of those people who volunteered myself all around my kids. I was the Girl Scout leader. I helped to run the Sunday school. I surrounded myself with other mothers so that we had this sense of community. It was a thing. I filled my life with being a mom and I just loved it. During this time though, I had lost my confidence, really. I knew I could do stuff at home, but I became convinced that I wasn't smart enough, that I wasn't good enough to do anything else outside of my house. We had one of those houses where the kids just would come through. My daughters always had their friends over. We had a steady parade of kids and teenagers over those years. We had the privilege of seeing a lot of them get launched into their lives. We had genuine affection for a whole lot of kids. And I knew that with this third child graduating that my house was about to get a whole lot quieter. And I was in a panic about that. People had suggested to me for a while that I should go into the ministry and, well, that scared the hell out of me, really. It meant graduate school, seminary, and I really was not a very stellar student the first time around. And I wasn't feeling like I was smart enough to handle any of that. It also meant that I was going to have to hang around with all those holy people. And I really wasn't that. It meant I'd have to clean up my vocabulary a little. Like I'd have to give up my love of a good dirty joke every now and again. But ministry is big. I mean, when you screw up in ministry, you can screw up really big time. This is people's relationship with God. This is their faith. I just wasn't smart enough, I wasn't holy enough, I wasn't good enough to do that. And here's an example. There was a boy who lived across the street, a young man who was in my daughter's circle of friends. This kid's name was Travis. And I really liked him. He was one of those deep thinking kids. He had been in out of my house, along with dozens and dozens of others. I liked him a lot. He had blue hair. And Travis had come to a crisis in his life. I knew that what was going on at his house that spring was very different than what was going on at my house. We were joyfully celebrating my third daughter. But he had come. Travis had come to a crisis in his life and he had tried to commit suicide. And he spent some amount of days in the hospital. We live in a small town. There aren't many secrets. And I knew that they were going through a terrible time over there. And I thought, this is what people do in the ministry. They're with other people who are going through dreadful times. And the thought of a child in danger trying to commit suicide, that was unthinkable to me. How could I ever step into that situation? I just wasn't smart enough. On the night of my daughter's last band concert, my husband was out of the country. And my daughters had gone off with their friends that night. And I was sitting home alone after that concert. And I was in a panic. What is going to happen next? What am I going to do next? My house, my life, is about to get a whole lot quieter. And I did not know what I was going to do. And as I was sitting there, I heard a familiar sound. The sound of squealing tires. I live out in the country, we live on a paved road. But north of our house, the curve is sharp. And people tend to take that curve too fast. We had had lots of people take that curve too fast and go off the road. And usually they'd end up in the cornfield north of our house or they'd end up off in the ditch. So when I heard that squealing of tires, it was familiar to me. And I flinched. And I waited for the inevitable crash. And it came, only this time it was really loud. I got up off the couch and I stepped out onto my porch. And there in front of me was a wrecked car not five or six steps ahead of where I was standing. And I said, oh, my God. It was right there. And the driver's side was pinned up against A large maple tree. The first step seemed to take me forever to get down. But I don't remember any of the steps after that. I was down to that car. I looked in the passenger seat, and there was a man inside. And he had one hand still on the steering wheel and one hand slung across the passenger seat and his head slightly back. He looked like he was just on a leisurely drive home. And I said, sir, are you okay? Talk to me. Come on, tell me, are you okay? And he didn't move. He didn't say anything. I stood up and I looked across the road, and there I spotted Travis's blue hair. Travis coming out of his house and his mother right behind him. And all my other neighbors coming out of all of their houses. And I hollered across the road, call 91 1, this is a really bad one. And I bent down and I looked in the passenger seat and I laid my hand on his arm and I shook him. And I said, come on, mister, talk to me. Wake up. Come on, don't go to sleep now. And he didn't move. And I stood up again. And Travis and all of my neighbors were in my yard, and it was chaotic. And Travis was talking on his cell phone. He was the only one of us who had a cell phone. And the adults were shouting at him, tell them he's non responsive. Tell them to hurry. This is really bad. And Travis was calmly talking into that phone as the adults were running around in the chaos. I made eye contact with him for just a second, and I just watched him. I bent down in the car, I looked across, and I held that man's hand. And I said, come on, mister, wake up. Come on, talk to me. And I pulled my hand back, and it was covered with blood. And there on the passenger seat, I noticed that the blood was pooling as it was dripping down off of his fingers. And I thought, he's not coming back. I laid my hand on his arm and I said something I had never said before. I said, go to God. Go in peace. And at that moment, I felt a weight lift off of me. It floated up, as if I could look up and see something floating above me. And I felt light. And in the distance, I could hear the sirens coming. For much of the rest of that evening, I sat on my front porch as the volunteer fire department came. And then the paramedics came, and then the coroner came. And in that time, I thought to myself, I'm going to do this. I'm going to be a pastor. I'm going to seminary. I'm going to go. I'm going to do this whole thing. God is calling me and I am going to do it. This is my time to do this. We later found out that that gentleman's name was Rudy and he was 34 years old. What if the last horrific thing that happened in Rudy's life was matched by the lesson learned by a blue haired young man that life is precious. What if the last horrific thing in Rudy's life was the turning point for a middle aged housewife? Wouldn't that be something? Just 10 days ago, after seven years of being in process with my church, it included five years of seminary at night and on the weekends and in the summers after countless papers had been written and a lot of language cleaned up, a lot of reflection and examination. Just 10 days ago I knelt down and the bishop laid her hands on me and she said that I was ordained. Thank you.

Jennifer Hickson (33:59)

That was Tina Zimmerman. She's now a Reverend at the United Methodist Church in Manchester, Michigan and a chaplain at a local retirement community. The large maple tree in Tina's front yard still stands and to this day has a big scar from where it was hit. As for the blue haired boy, Tina's happy to report that he's thriving, successful and quite happy. To see a picture of Tina at her ordination, visit themoth.org Next up, two SLAM stories with an interesting connection from a recent Michigan Grand Slam.

Narrator (34:54)

The Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts and presented by the Public Radio Exchange.

TurboTax Advertiser (35:02)

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Jennifer Hickson (35:41)

You're listening to the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Jennifer Hickson. Next, we're going to hear two stories from the same Michigan Grand Slam. Both stories have a connection to autism. First up is Eddie Hayka. He's a frequent storyteller at the Detroit Story Slam and a lot of his stories focus on his kids. He's raised quite a few. Here's Eddie.

Apple Product Announcer (36:06)

Sesame street nearly killed our son. I'm not kidding. Our oldest son, Sam, has autism and Tourette's. And as a result, he has powerful obsessions and compulsions that were even stronger when he was little. And some of them were episodic. One time things that he had to do and he had to do now, like go over the barrier at the gorilla enclosure at the zoo, go over the fence on the edge of a 200 foot fall into Lake Superior, wander off at sunset in the Porcupine Mountains. Now, others were more periodic. Things he had to do every single day for a period of six months, a year, a year and a half. Though to the rest of the family, each of them seemed to go on forever. Some were harmless, like one school year he wore a band aid on his face every single day. And others were a little more frightening, like the stretch where he had to run out and touch a yellow line in the road with his finger to account of 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. And of course it's a yellow line. So therefore it was a busy street like grand river or Michigan Avenue. You couldn't stop them. The best you could do is protect them. Though there was many a friend and family and total stranger who told us over the years when he behaved like this or any number of other unusual behaviors or utterances. Why do you let him do that? Why don't you just tell him to stop? Now, granted, 20 years ago, the awareness of autism was not as great as it is now, let alone Tourette's. But this combination of the two led to these obsessions and compulsions that were so strong, it was like an itch that if he didn't scratch, it just grew stronger and stronger and stronger. And he could easily take off while I'm cooking dinner or we're all asleep. So our best course of action was just to protect him. And we survived that compulsion with no casualties. And we moved to the next, and he moved to the next. And there was one when he was about 8 years old that I completely misunderstood. In autism, there's this saying, behavior is communication. Well, this one went right over my head. He was compulsively taking the wire ties that connect your chain link fence to the, you know, the upright supports in the top bar, they're bent and then they're crimped with pliers. But he was using his little eight year old fingers to wiggle them back and forth, back and forth, back and forth so he could get it loose and take it off. And it, it was taking him forever. But he was working his way down the fence. And every couple weeks, I'd go out at night with my pliers and I'd put them all back on. But Sam was not our only child. Over the years, my wife and I, we've raised in our home 17 children. And at that time, we had five other children. And so, you know, between work and coaching and all the needs of all the other children, I fell behind his compulsion and it was my fault. But one day I look out the back window and I see the fence between our house and the walkers. Best next door neighbors ever. Lying flat in the grass.

Michelle Fecteau (39:05)

Shit.

Apple Product Announcer (39:06)

And the top pole is missing.

Michelle Fecteau (39:07)

Shit.

Apple Product Announcer (39:08)

And I look out in the back of the yard, at the edge of the garage by the power lines is Sammy with a 20 foot long pole, wobbling.

Eddie Hayka (39:17)

Shit.

Apple Product Announcer (39:19)

I go out there and we've learned over the years, you can't panic, you can't yell. That only makes a bad situation and makes it worse. So I said, sammy, let me have the pole. Give Tata the pole, Sammy. But before I could get a hold of it, he goes wham.

Eddie Hayka (39:37)

Wham.

Apple Product Announcer (39:38)

And you know that gray cylindrical box attached to the utility pole where the power line goes in? He hits it twice, really hard. And as he hits it, he yells, oscar, come out of you can.

Michelle Fecteau (39:53)

Come out of you garbage can.

Eddie Hayka (39:54)

Oscar.

Apple Product Announcer (39:57)

He thought the transformer was Oscar's garbage can. And all this time I thought his compulsion was bending those wires, but no, it was a singular compulsion with a singular purpose. You know, he looked up, Oscar's up there about 20ft high. Needed about a 20 foot length of pipe. Well, there's one right there. That'll work. I said, sammy, Oscar doesn't live up there. Oscar lives on the ground. He live on the ground? Yes, he lives on the ground. He lives on the ground? Yes, he lives on the ground. He lives on the ground. You got to do things in fours, right? And so I said, if you hit that, you could die. I could die. You could die. I could die. You could die. I could die. So 45 minutes later, I've convinced him to come inside and see that Sesame street video and show him that Oscar does indeed live on the ground. But I'm not foolish enough to think I've talked him out of his compulsion. So my wife comes home, I run to the fencing store, we buy three big bundles of those wire ties. And that night, the rest of us go out there, we put so many wire ties on that fence he'd have to have that obsession for another year before he had another chance to talk to Oscar. Now, surviving these compulsions and just navigating Sammy's diagnoses over the last 20 some years have taught my wife and I and most of our kids to take life in stride and appreciate and enjoy all the little things. And my wife summed it up beautifully. One of our many camping trips. It had been another fun but eventful day. Kids were all finally asleep in their tents. She and I were sitting around the fire having a well deserved nightcap and our little tin cups, and she looks up at me and says, honey, it was a good day. No fatalities.

Jennifer Hickson (41:56)

That was Eddie, Helen. Eddie is a special education teacher and union representative. Since he started coming to the Moth, he's told several stories about his son Sammy and others in his extraordinarily large family. Seventeen children and counting, two by birth, nine foster children, five of whom they adopted and six others who they parented outside the system. In all his stories, Eddie is always sure to give credit to his exceptional wife, Michelle, who happens to be our next storyteller. Now, it's unusual for married couples to be in the same competition, but it sometimes happens. A Moth Story Slam, after all, does make for a pretty fun night out. Here's our Michigan Slam producer, Patty Wheeler again to explain how this married couple ended up in the same Grand Slam.

Patty Wheeler (42:42)

Eddie went first and he got really high scores and it was lovely. And then Michelle went last, but nobody really realized that they were together. And she got scored really high. And then when I was about to announce the winner, I realized that they had scored the exact same scores, which, and both had won. They had tied to win. And when we have a tie at the Moth, we have several different ways that we break that tie. But Eddie said, no, I don't want to do that. I went, I want Michelle to be able to go to the Grand Slam. And everybody cried and it was really, it was really spectacular.

Jennifer Hickson (43:21)

In the end, we found a way to include both Eddie and Michelle in the same Grand Slam. So here is Michelle Fecteau live at the Grand Slam in Detroit.

Michelle Fecteau (43:37)

All right, so it's March 20, 1990, and I'm working as a health and safety union rep for the International Lady Garment Workers Union in Manhattan on Broadway and 53rd, right near Central Park. And I'm working late because I always work late. And I get a phone call from Ruben, the security guard, and I don't usually get calls from him. And he calls me and he says there's a Guy in the lobby and he wants to see you. He says he knows you. And I'm like, what's his name? He said, richard Price. I'm thinking Richard Price. I don't know what Richard Price. He said, well, he's got a letter from you, and it's laminated. I said, laminated. And so I was very confused. And he said, well, the letter says you sent him some books on the Triangle Shirtwaist fire. And then I remembered there was this letter that no one wanted to answer, but I was low seniority. So they gave it. You know, my boss gave it to me to answer. And it was a guy named Richard Price from Three Rivers, Michigan. And he was somebody who, by the letter, you could tell he was really different. He talked about his obsession with the Triangle Shirtwaist fire and how much it meant to him. Now, if you don't know the Triangle Shirtwaist fire, it's a big moment in labor history, especially for the garment workers union. It was in 1911, March 25, in Lower Manhattan. The Ash Building. The three top floors was a sweatshop and a rag caught on fire and went through the whole shop. And there was 146 mostly young immigrant women, teenagers, who were killed in that fire because the owner of the sweatshop kept the doors locked to keep the theft down, had unworking elevators, and the firefighters, their ladders only went to the floor right below them. So these women were burned and jumped. Many of them jumped to their death. So it was a very traumatic thing. But it brought about a lot of change in health and safety, and it really spurred the International Lady Garment Workers Union. So he was really into this. And he told me how he had even done a big display about it at the Three Rivers Public Library and then gotten the library cited for fire code violations. And he told in the letter, he said he'd gotten a lot of the businesses in Three Rivers cited for fire code violations. So, you know, he was different. And I was sort of struck by it. And I sent him some books on the Triangle Shirtwaist buyer and a nice letter thanking him for his interest. And I didn't think anything of it. And I didn't even think anything of it when the mayor of Three Rivers called me a little while later and said, you know, Richard Price, just want to let you know he's a good guy. The community really loves him. Even though he keeps writing people stop and getting them cited for fire code violations, you know. And so. And I vaguely remembered him saying he was going to come for the 79th anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire on March 25. So I went down to the lobby and there he was. He was a big guy in his mid-20s. He had his buttons, his flannel shirt all buttoned all the way to the top. And he had a coat on, it was like crooked, and a backpack. And I looked at him and you could tell he thought it was really important. But he looked down at the ground. He wouldn't look me in the eye. He just looked really bashful and adorable. And I asked him, you know, how did you get here? Where are you staying? And he said, well, I shoveled driveways all winter long in Three Rivers, Michigan. So I had enough money to get a round trip train ticket here and an extra hundred bucks. I said, all you had is 100 bucks? He said, yeah. I said, where are you staying? He goes, well, last night I slept on a park bench in Central Park. And I was like, oh, no. Because 1990s New York, it was, the crack epidemic was still raging and there was, you know, people, homeless people getting hurt all the time. And in fact, I remembered that someone had been burned on the park bench in Central park not that long before. So I was like, oh no, oh no, no, no, no, no, I can't have this. So I start calling people and friends and shelters and there's nothing available. And so I call my husband. Now, we'd only been married a couple of years. We had a tiny little place in the Bronx, 250 square feet maybe, and the smaller half of a second floor of a house. And I called my husband and I said, told him the story and he said, can I bring him home? And he said, of course. Which is why I love him so much. But Ruben, the security guard, he was also off duty cop. He said, michelle, are you sure you don't know this guy? You got a little baby at home. I had a nine month old baby at home. And he knew it. He had seen me walking pregnant all the time and knew that baby was there. And he goes, are you really sure? And my friends who came out said, michelle, you're crazy. This doesn't make sense. Don't do it. But I had made up my mind. I'm doing it. There's no other alternative. I'm not letting him sleep in a park bench in Central Park. So I brought him home. And you know what? We had an awesome time. We had a great time. We showed him how to go around New York. We took him out. We even took him some friends of ours, a local garment, local union in Manhattan. He learned how to merengue. He learned how to salsa. He ate Puerto Rican food. But the best part of the week is when I took him to the anniversary of the memorial of the Triangle shirtwaist fire. It was in front of the ash building where the fire had occurred. He met all of these union dignitaries. He. He even met some of the descendants of people who had died in the fire. And he was beaming. And I was just basking in his happiness and felt so good. And he went home. I got him on the train back. And then a few days later, I get this call from the executive vice president's office on the top floor. And I think, oh, maybe she's noticing all these late hours I'm working. But no, that wasn't it. I go up there, and she lit into me. And you know what she said? She said I was irresponsible. She said I put my son at risk. What kind of mother was I? She said, what kind of a person would put the union at risk? You're making us liable. And I thought she was going to fire me, but I was crying so hard that I think she just felt sorry for me. So she said, if you ever do this again, you will be fired. And I bit my tongue because I was sole support. My husband was a stay at home dad, and I needed that job. So I. I know now that Richard had autism. You know, the way he was obsessed with a certain subject, the way he looked down when looking in the face, and the way he didn't seem to care if he got his neighbors written up for fire code violations. But I think about it, and I know this because that little baby that everyone cared so much about, he's the same age as Richard now, and he has autism. That's my son. The one Eddie Hayka told you about. So I ask you, when you see somebody on the street, maybe they need help, maybe they're just passing by. People might say they're crazy, might seem different. Please, be kind. Treat them like they could be your own son. Thank you.

Jennifer Hickson (50:50)

That was Michelle Fecto who won the grand slam, just barely beating her husband Eddie. In case you didn't connect the dots, the baby Michelle talks about in her story is Sammy. The same kid from her husband Eddie's story. Eddie and Michelle say their doors are always open. In fact, recently, Eddie mentioned that they just took on two new little ones, raising the total of kids they've raised or are raising to 19. On top of that, Michelle is a union representative for the faculty and academic staff at Wayne State University in Detroit. To see a photo of Michelle, Eddie, Sammy and the rest of the brood, at least all the ones who could fit around the table that night, visit themoth.org and now a final word from our Michigan Story Slam producer, Patty Wheeler, who has some advice.

Patty Wheeler (51:34)

I would tell somebody that's afraid to tell a story to SLAM that the audience is there to support you, that they are there because they want to hear stories, and that the second that you get up there and you start talking, you see their faces and you know that it's going to be okay.

Jennifer Hickson (51:51)

That advice doesn't just go for Michigan. That advice works for any of our SLAM cities. That's it for this episode of the Moth Radio Hour, the special Michigan Edition. We hope you'll join us next time.

Narrator (52:15)

Your host this hour was Jennifer Hickson. Jennifer also directed the stories in the show. We'd like to thank wdet, Michigan Public Radio and our regular Michigan Story Slam hosts Satori Shakur and Alex Trejano. The rest of the Moss directorial staff includes Kathryn Burns, Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin, Janess and Meg Bowles. Production support from Whitney Jones. Moth Stories are True is remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Moth events are recorded by Argo Studios in New York City, supervised by Paul Ruest. Other music in this hour Willie Williams, Detroit Blues and the rest from Sufjan Stevens album Greetings from Michigan. You can find links to all the music we use at our website. The Moth Radio Hour is produced by me, Jay Allison 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 more just, ferdant and peaceful world. The Moth Radio Hour is presented by prx. For more about our podcast, for information on pitching your own story and everything else, go to our website themoth.org.