Kathryn Burns (11:13)

That was Teri Garr. Teri was nominated for an Academy Award for her role in the film Tootsie. She also starred in the movies After Hours and Young Frankenstein. And the guy in Terry's story. Don't worry, he's history. Coming up, a young nerdy boy growing up in Israel finds an unlikely hero when the Moth Radio Hour continues.

News Announcer (11:36)

The news for the moth comes from 20th Century Fox's the Post. Steven Spielberg, Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks unite To bring audiences the true story of the COVID up of the Pentagon Papers and the journalists who risked everything to expose the truth in theaters everywhere. January 12th, the Moth Radio Hour is produced by Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts, and presented by prx.

Kathryn Burns (12:04)

Support for the Moth comes from our friends at Rocket Mortgage by Quicken Loans. Chances are you're confident when it comes to your work, your hobbies and your life. Rocket Mortgage gives you that same level of confidence when it comes to buying a home or refinancing your existing home loan. Rocket Mortgage is simple, allowing you to fully understand all the details and be confident you're getting the right mortgage. For you to get started, go to Rocketmortgage.com moth equal housing lender licensed in all 50 states nmlsconsumeraccess.org number 3030.

Apple Representative (12:42)

This.

Kathryn Burns (12:42)

Is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. I'm Kathryn Burns. In this hour, we're hearing stories about shocks and surprises. Our next story was told by Lielle Lebowitz. Most kids idolize superheroes who can fly or have superhuman strength. But what about the kid with other ideas? Here at a live event at the Avalon Theater in Los Angeles, where we partner with station KCRW. Leal Leibowitz.

Lielle Leibowitz (13:12)

I grew up in Israel in the 1980s, and my father's mission in life was to make sure that his only son, me, grew up to be a real man. And so as soon as I turned four, every Saturday, he would take me shooting, which was funny because my arm was exactly the size of a Smith and Wesson. 45. And two or three years later, when I was six or seven, my father would take advantage of Israel's surprisingly relaxed car rental insurance policies, and he would rent a car to take me on driving lessons, which were terrifying because even sitting on his lap, I didn't really reach the wheel. And every two or three weeks, there was a special treat. We would stop the rental car by the side of the road, and my father would make me go out and change tires whether the car needed it or not, because in his mind, knowing how to change a tire was the epitome of manhood. And I really hated changing tires and I really hated spending these Saturday afternoons with him. But he didn't really care because he was inducting me to the International Brotherhood of Macho Men. And so every chance he got, he would take me to the movies to see his heroes, men like Sylvester Stallone or Chuck Norris or Burt Reynolds. And I didn't mind these guys too much. But they were not my idols. My real idol was a real live person named the Motorcycle Bandit. He appeared on the scene shortly after my 12th birthday, robbing bank after bank after bank all over Israel he was in and out of the bank in under 40 seconds, never leaving behind any clue as to his real name or identity. And he just drove people insane. He got so popular that Israel's most famous comedy sketcho, sort of like the local version of Saturday Night Live, devoted an entire episode to the bandit, speculating in one bit that he probably never robbed the bank in Jerusalem because he didn't particularly care for that city. So you can imagine what happened the next day when, in an apparent tribute to his favorite television show, the motorcycle bandit robbed his one and only Jerusalem bank. People went insane. Women who worked at banks would write their names and phone numbers on little notes so that if the sexy heartthrob robber happened to hit them up, maybe when he got off work, he would find their number and give them a call. But the people who loved the bandit most were us teenage boys. For us, he was a complete hero. And on Purim, which is more or less the Jewish equivalent of Halloween, we all dressed up like him, in a leather jacket and a motorcycle helmet and a big shiny gun. So about a year and a half later, I'm 13 and a half. I'm walking home from the eighth grade, and no one's home. So I sort of mosey over to the kitchen to make myself a snack, and I hear a knock on the door. But it's not a tap, tap, tap. It's a boom, boom, boom. So I open the door, and there are three police officers standing there, and they're not looking at me, and none of them are saying anything. And finally, about half a minute later, one of them looks up and says, son, we arrested your father a while ago with a motorcycle helmet and a leather jacket and a big shiny gun. And I remember my first thought was, no way. You think my dad, with a beer belly and the receding hairline and the terrible jokes, you think that guy is the motorcycle bandit. But in the hours and the days and the weeks that passed, I learned that he was. The real story, as I soon came to learn, began about two years earlier, when my father, who was 35 at the time and the son of one of Israel's wealthiest family, was summoned by his father to have the talk. Now, if you've watched a couple episodes of Dallas or Dynasty or Knots Landing, you know the talk. It's when the rich guy calls his wayward playboy son over and says, son.

News Announcer (17:47)

It'S time for you to grow up.

Lielle Leibowitz (17:48)

And be a man. Take responsibility for your life and get a job. And my father didn't like that at all. So he stormed out of my grandfather's office and he hopped on his motorcycle, because, of course. And he drove to the beach, and he's sitting there watching the sun set over the Mediterranean, and he's thinking really about his life. And, you know, my father grew up in the 60s, so he believed in sayings like do what you love or follow your heart. So he decided to follow his heart. And his heart led him to robbing banks. Now, as it turns out, he was good at it. He was great at it. He was an inventor, an innovator. He was the Elon Musk of the stick up job. And later I learned how he did it. And how he did it was incredible. He would rob a bank in under 40 seconds. He would run out, jump on his motorcycle, drive around the corner, up a ramp he had custom built, and into a van, where he would pause and like some mad philosopher king, he would ponder the seminal existential question of bank robbing, which is, where's the last place you would ever look for a bank robber? And the answer is, and now is the point in the story where any of you contemplating this line of work maybe want to pay attention. The answer is that the last place you would ever look for a bank robber is the bank. And so my father would take off his jacket and his helmet and tuck the gun back into his pants and walk out of the van calmly around the corner, back into the bank, which at that point was a crime scene sprawling with police officers. And one of these police officers would inevitably run up to my father and say, you can't be here, sir. This is a crime scene. And my father would look at him, this dopey look and say, oh, can I please just make a quick deposit? My wife will kill me if I don't. And the police officer would say something like, sure, but be quick about it. And my father would walk up to the bank teller and deposit the same exact cash he had robbed three minutes earlier. And this being the 1980s and computers were still kind of new, he made the cash virtually untraceable. It was a work of genius. He was so good at it, and he became so popular that eventually he got cocky. He robbed one bank a day, and then two, and then two banks in two different cities. One time he was riding in a cab on his way to the airport when the urge struck. He told the cab driver, do you please mind stopping? I promise I'll only be a minute. It was literally true. He was only a minute. He robbed the bank, hopped back into the Cab drove to the airport and flew off for an all expenses paid vacation in New York. But you know how this story ends. Eventually he was caught. And after he was arrested, life got really weird. In no small part because Israel, as you may have heard, being a small state surrounded by enemies, has its own ideas about prison. And one of them is that prisoners get the one weekend out of the month off to go home on vacation. The logic being that since the country only has one really secure airport, if you want to go ahead and try to escape to Gaza or Syria, be our guest. And so every fourth Friday, I would stop, I would go to the prison to pick my father up and we would go out and have ourselves a weekend on the town. And people would come up to him and say, you know, high five him and pat him on the back and say things like, bandit, we love you, you're cool. But to me, he wasn't cool. And he wasn't even the bandit. He was my dad, who had just done something so incredibly stupid that lent him with a 20 year prison sentence. But even weirder than that, one weekend a month together, were the three weekends a month apart. Because here I was and it was Saturday and there's no shooting practice, there was no driving lesson, no changing tires, no Burt Reynolds. And I didn't know what to do. So one afternoon I got dressed, which by the way, was also an ordeal because when the police searched our house, they took not only all of my father's belongings, but because we were more or less the same size, also all of mine. So I put on one of the few outfits I had, which was this really ratty, disgusting purple sweat suit with the Batman logo up front, which I.

Interviewee (22:39)

Assume the police just thought no self.

Lielle Leibowitz (22:41)

Respecting bank robber would ever wear. And I walked out and started walking around town, literally looking for a sign. And then I saw it. It was a sign above a theater advertising an all male Japanese modern dance show. And I thought for maybe five seconds. And then I did something that I'm pretty sure my father would disown me for. I bought a ticket and I went in and I loved it. Here on stage were these amazing, elegant, graceful men. And guess what? They weren't punching each other in the face. They were not riding Harley Davidsons. They were dancing. And yet they were so secure in their bodies and their masculinities. And I thought to myself, if that's another way of being a man, what other ways are there? And thus began a two decade long process of trial and error, of trying to figure out what kind of man I wanted to be. And look, some of the things I learned didn't surprise me at all. I love bourbon. And I am the kind of guy who would watch as much sports as you would let him in a given day. But some things were really surprising, like some French poets really moved me to tears. And even though bourbon was great, you know what else tastes really good? Wine. And even though I'm really, really good at changing tires, if I get a flat now, I. I'm calling aaa. I didn't share any of these insights with my father because for one thing, he's not really the kind of guy who's into insights. But for another, by the time he got out of prison, I was already a man in full. It was too late for him to shape who I became in any meaningful way. And he still comes to visit from time to time in New York, where I live with my family. And in one of these recent visits, he and I are sitting in my living room not talking as men do not talk. And my son comes prancing into the room. My three year old boy. Now that boy looks exactly like me, just as I look exactly like my father. And if there's one thing in the world that that boy loves, it's his older sister. And if there's one thing in the world that his older sister loves, it's Disney princesses and in prances, the child dressed like Princess Anna from Frozen. And I look at my son, and I look at my father looking at my son, who, by the way, looked amazing in this like green taffeta with a black velvet bodice and some lovely lacing. And I know that my father is judging me. But you know what? I don't care. Because at that moment I realized, strangely, that by going to jail when he did, he didn't just free me up of the burden of this macho nonsense. He also freed up my son to grow up as a happy boy who can pretend to be whoever he wants to be, even, or especially a pretty, pretty princess. And I can't tell you how grateful I am that instead of going through life mindlessly as two tough guys, my son and I are free to become real men. Thank you very much.

Kathryn Burns (26:25)

Lielle Leibowitz has written some books, most of which he says are about the beautiful and desperate things people do when searching for redemption. He's a senior writer for Tablet magazine, where he's a co host of the podcast Unorthodox. He also has a PhD in video games, which he says would have made his Seven year old self, very happy. Leal and I recently sat down to talk about where things stand with his dad. Where does he live now? Is he in Israel?

Interviewee (26:53)

He lives in an apartment in Tel Aviv. And he's another way of answering that question. He lives in his own world where everything is kind of happy and everything he did is kind of funny and just a pleasant old memory, like a World War I flashback. Like I remember those jolly old times where we robbed those banks.

Lielle Leibowitz (27:16)

He's that guy. Which, you know, considering the alternatives, you.

Interviewee (27:21)

Know, it's kind of like a sober recognition would have been terrific and like a good emotional closure. But that notwithstanding, considering the other alternatives, it's a pretty good emotional place to be in. Like you're always happy.

Kathryn Burns (27:34)

Yeah, I can see that. One of the versions of the story, like in different iterations of the story, you talked a little bit more and I thought maybe you could talk now about how tough it was for you after all of this broke because people expected you to be the.

Interviewee (27:52)

To be the man.

Nazreen Marzban (27:54)

Yeah.

Interviewee (27:54)

To be the strong Israeli macho hero. Yeah. I mean, you know, that was kind of one of the more devastating things about it because as I tell in the story, you know, I'm this kid with this sort of very fuzzy plume type mustache just beginning to grow, wearing like a unicolor sweat pants sweatshirt type combination with like the Batman pin, always on a short way of saying this is like a big huge nerd. And all of a sudden these people start talking to me because I'm the cool son of the cool bank robber and some of these people are girls, which is completely terrifying because that had not happened before. And very quickly there's this kind of question always kind of echoing in my mind. Hold on. Are these people interested in me because they like me and they want to talk Batman or whatever, or they hear because they want like a glimpse at like the glory that is like my famous dad.

Lielle Leibowitz (28:57)

That is. That is.

Interviewee (28:59)

I can't say bad words. Right. That is a mind twister, shall we say?

Nazreen Marzban (29:04)

She being so young.

Interviewee (29:06)

Yeah. It kind of throws you into this existential loop in which you have to like step back and be like, okay, who is what in this world? It's a very good learning experience.

Kathryn Burns (29:17)

The drama though, around your dad kind of went on for years. Right. Did you tell me there was like this ridiculous made for TV movie?

Interviewee (29:23)

Oh, there was several. There's one here in the States. It was an episode of a show called Masterminds. And the amazing thing about Masterminds, it's a Canadian production. And so to save a bit of dough, they shot in Toronto. Now those who have visited Toronto and Tel Aviv and even those who haven't know that these two cities look nothing like, I mean say for like a mountie riding a moose into the frame. Like it had every trapping of like a Canadian city. And they hire these two young local Arab actors in their twenties to play my mom and my dad who look absolutely nothing like these characters. The whole thing was watching your childhood staged, you know, in Canada was a very surreal experience. My favorite bit about this documentary is that the last, the very last shot, the director asks my father if he has any, had any regrets and he says, I lost everything. My money, my house. Beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat. My family. Thanks man.

Lielle Leibowitz (30:36)

Oh yeah, that too.

Kathryn Burns (30:38)

That was lean. Leal Leibowitz. To find a link to that made for TV movie and to see photos of Leal and his family, go to themoth.org while there you can pitch us your own story. You don't have to have had a father who's a famous bank robber to tell a great moth story. Leave a 2 minute version of a story you'd like to tell by calling 877799 moth or you can pitch us the story right at our website themoth do. Coming up, a 13 year old girl does something that shocks even herself when asked to read a poem in front of the Shah of Iran when the Moth Radio Hour continues.

News Announcer (31:34)

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

Kathryn Burns (31:42)

Prx.Org this is the Moth Radio Hour from PRX. Our next storyteller is Nazreen Marzban. Nazreen is from a small town in Iran. She immigrated to the United States in 1985 after after the Shah of Iran was overthrown during the Iranian revolution. She raised two daughters in Michigan and told this story at one of our open mic storytelling competitions in Ann Arbor where we partner with Michigan Radio. Here's Nazreen.

Nazreen Marzban (32:13)

This is my first time over here and I didn't know what am I supposed to do. My friends encouraged me. I came over here without preparation. I hope I did a good job. But I'm going to tell you a story about my childhood. I've been born and raised in the Middle Eastern in Iran in a small town that it doesn't even exist in a map. But anyway this is a gift. First of all I have to tell you this is a gift that because very embarrassing and scary thing that happened during that time. I was like 13 years old now I couldn't talk for many, many years about this. I could tell this one in United States in your prison. And I think this is a gift for me. So I was around 13 years old and during that time like Shah was ruling the country and people were really scared and respect and he was a powerful man and I was a girl scout that time. So Shah was coming to visit our small town. The whole town was getting prepared for the Shah visit for like six months or a year. And my teachers and principal they used to put me for some odd reason and put me in front of the people like do stuff. So they prepared me for six months to go in front of Shah and read this poem and then go backward and some other people were going to greet him. So I was the first one to greet him. So this particular day comes and I'm ready to do this. And they are working on me for six months and I am tired and one teacher comes see if my dress is okay, Another one comes practice with me again. And then I need to go to, excuse me to bathroom but they are not allowing me to go. So this time comes and we go to city hall which is like they change the marble and there's 1,000, maybe more people in the town and the city hall and outside greeting the Shah and Shah comes like sits, stays there and then all around the Shah is important people. I am here facing the shah like maybe 10ft after me all the audience so and also the like maybe three feet after me is the all the girl Scott. So right now I am supposed to go and read the poem. I am not worried about the poem. I memorize everything is great but I have to go to bachelor. So I go back, turn back. I said Mina Mina, Mina is my friend and the girl's guy, can you come? And my principal saying and everybody's doing this to me and I'm okay. I thought okay if I just let go a little bit. I did. So suddenly I realized I can't hold it back. Then I see like people are separating and there is a difference. So I run outside, I go to forest and I feel like it's end of me peeing in front of Shah is. So I go to the forest and I feel okay, something has to happen, I have to be, I have time, right? So I need to disappear. But my cousin, older cousin comes and say we have to take you home, don't worry. Like you know, pretends that he doesn't know anything. So he takes me to cab and you know in cab, he asked me to sit down. I said, no, I'm just coming. Going to stay in a cab and a backseat. So he takes me home and holds my hand and goes knock on door and says, aunt here, your daughter peed in front of Sean. So basically I said, okay, end of school. I'm not going to school anymore. After a couple days, principal and other teacher came and they say, okay, come back. We won't let anybody to tell, you know, tease you or anything. And plus, these kids, they don't know because kids weren't there really. And if you ask your friend not to talk about it and stuff, you are safe. I said, okay. So they take me to school. And then the principal call everybody and says, come. And people come. All the students come. And they say, if you. He says, if you tell, from now on, Nasrin Pete in front of the Shah, he will be grounded.

Kathryn Burns (37:49)

That was Nazreen Marsban. She's a chemist by trade and owns her own company. She currently splits her time between Northern California and Istanbul. Our final story in this hour of surprises was told by Michaela Murphy way back in 2004. Here's Michaela live at the Moth.

Apple Representative (38:16)

Thank you. Hi. Hi. I grew up in Providence, Rhode island, and for my entire childhood, we were never more than 20 miles away from the core of our universe, the Kennedys. We were Irish, they were Irish. We were Catholic, they were Catholic. They were family. We were like the relatives that they never got to see. But we knew, you know, they're busy, and we knew that they loved us. So anything that was happening to them was also happening to us. So their tragedy, plus our own tragedy was a lot. So this one Thanksgiving, after dinner and a family fight at Grandma's house, we were in the car and we're driving home, and the radio was playing this 10th anniversary of the JFK assassination. And I'm sitting in the back seat, and I start to cry. And my sister Erin says, hey, dad, Mikayla's crying. And my father pulls that car right over to the shoulder of I95. He stops it. He turns around, and he looks at us. And with tears in his own eyes, he says, don't you ever be ashamed to cry for that man. So my parents grew up near Newport, and they got married in the same exact church as church as Jack and Jackie, St. Mary's and my father gave exact replica jewelry to my mother. That was replications of the jewelry that Jack gave to Jackie. And every Saturday night after Mass, my family would be in the living room, and we'd be happily ever aftering to the original soundtrack of Camelot. And every year during the 70s, my four aunts would take me and my two cousins on their dream vacation. A rented beach house in Hyannis, on the very cove sharing beachfront with the Kennedy compound. Every day for an entire week, my Aunt Pat would roll up her sister's hair. My aunts would apply sunscreen to the back of their necks, the backs of the hands and the tops of their feet. And then they would drag their beach chairs down to the beach and they would set them up perfectly, not facing the water, not into the sun for tanning, but perfectly for spying on the Kennedys. They would sit there all day in the broiling sun with high powered binoculars and keep a constant surveillance. And every year they'd have the same exact conversations. Usually around mid morning, the first sighting would be made, usually by my Aunt Pat. She'd be up. They got Rose out walking. Ethel looked strong. And then about an hour later, my Aunt Gert would say, how old is Rose now? And Aunt Momo would make the calculations. Well, let's see. Jack died in 63 when she was 74. And Rose's birthday was two weeks last Thursday. And Joe died in 69, making her a widow at 81. So 85. And then they'd break for lunch. So after lobster and drawn butter and hosing us down, they'd all hustle back to their posts and they'd watch. And every now and then there'd be something they didn't know. Hey, who's that? Who's that? Who's that? So they'd draw out the family tree in the sand. They'd analyze it, they'd come up with a profile and they'd crack the code. It's one of Bobby's. Now any mention of Bobby would always bring up the inevitable. Oh, I just pray to God they don't tell poor senile Rose about Bobby. It'll break her. So then the long afternoon stretch would end with the inevitable annual observation. You don't see Jackie much here. And then all of my aunts would drop their binoculars and look at each other meaningfully. Now, all of this meant that no one was paying any attention to me and my cousins in the water. And the summer when we were nine years old, we found something. Now had an aunt, perhaps in an effort to ease a cramp in her prying neck, just sort of glance towards the water, she might have seen us climbing into this tiny plastic, half inflated boat. She might have cried out in alarm at the Lack of oars and life vests. She might have had a conniption fit to see us shove off and drift into the violent riptide that would sweep us within five minutes out to the open sea and the Nantucket bound ferry. But an aunt didn't, and we did. It all happened so fast that we were swept out. And it wasn't until we realized that we could make out the specific features of the ferry passengers that we were really far from shore. We were so far from shore that my aunts were now reduced to four hopping dots. Uh oh. It was like Gilligan's island for real. So an Atlantic swell crashes over our heads, and as soon as the water clears out of our eyes, a powerboat pulls up out of nowhere. And in this powerboat are David and Michael Kennedy. So David and Michael pull us up into the boat and we are like, oh, my God, we are saved by a powerboat. So the power boat sends us back to shore, and we're psyched because we're saved. Until we start to watch the four hopping dots morph back into our four crazed, livid aunts. We are so going to get it. Now, my family, under any circumstances, has this really weird thing. Well, they each have their own weird thing about, like, yelling and getting into huge trouble. Like my Aunt Gert, she gets so freaked out that all she can do is yell out our addresses, like Eileen and Kevin. 275 Hooper St. Mikayla. 180 Asylum Road. I swear to God, I grew up on Asylum Road. Very telling piece of my childhood. And then my Aunt Pat would do these things where she would say these things that were, like, actually kind of nice things, but she'd say them like they were death threats. She'd be like, yeah, I'll save you from drowning. You get on that beach towel and you lie in that sun now. Or she'd say, I'm gonna buy you a birthday present. You eat that cake now. So we knew that this was what was coming. The Kennedy boys didn't. So they're vivaciously tanned and they pull up to the shoreline and we brace ourselves. Now what happens is our aunts are out of their minds. They're ready to flay us. But when they see us in the same boat as the Kennedys, it's like they don't have the emotional capacity to handle it. They kind of snap. They're kind of like freaking out to yell at us, but they start fake smiling and trying to act all normal. And my Aunt Momo, she takes on this Kennedy esque way of speaking, which is sort of halfway between Katharine Hepburn and the Queen of England. And we're looking at them like, what are you guys doing? And they're smiling the smile. But when they smile at us, it's like, you just wait. But they're like, oh, David. Oh, Michael, thank you, thank you, thank you. And they're not mad at us for almost drowning. They're mad at us because the Kennedys had to save us. Like, don't those people have enough trouble now? You like, as if our almost drowning was yet another Kennedy tragedy. So these poor boys finally pull and pry themselves away from my aunts. They get back on the boat, and they're leaving, and my Aunt Momo's going, please give our best to your grandmother. And now it's time for our for Real punishment, which was that we, for the rest of vacation, had to stay on the beach because we did not have any respect for the water. So it's 100 degrees out, and after about a half hour of whining and fighting and, like, emptying out all the Coppertone and kicking sand, we break my Aunt Pat's last nerve. And she says, all right, you. You can go in the water, but only up to your knees. So we're happy for a minute until we get in the water and realize how boring up to your knees is. And then we get the great plan of having chicken fights. So we start to have chicken fights, but it's kind of weird because there's only three of us, but we're doing the best we can to have a chicken fight like that and, like, knock each other off into the water. So we get fully immersed, and then my Uncle Al, who never, ever played with us, ever comes into the water to play chicken fights with us. And he puts his daughter, my cousin Eileen, up on his shoulders, and then I get up on my cousin Kevin's shoulders, and we're having chicken fights, and it's like, actual family fun for a moment. And we're like, you know, hitting each other, falling in the water. And then I take my foot and I accidentally kick the side of my Uncle Al's head really, really hard. And his eyeball pops out of his head, falls into the water and sinks. It pops out of his head and it sinks. Eileen, Kevin and I are in instant, complete shock right this minute. There is still a part of me that is on that beach screaming. It's like, oh, my God. We had no idea that he had a fake eye. We didn't even know that you could have a fake Eye? Why would you have a fake eye? They didn't tell us that Uncle Al had a fake eye. Cause they didn't want us blabbing it to the whole neighborhood. So they didn't tell us. So we didn't know. And like, later on, you know, there was Columbo and Sandy Duncan, but this was way before that. We had no idea. So we're all standing there and it's like so horrible. Like, I can't even. Like, I'm like, oh my God. And my cousins Eileen and Kevin are staring at me with complete hate like, you broke our dad. And my Uncle Al is standing there and he's got the lid open so you can like see inside the socket where now it's just like skin and the eyeball gone. And like, you cannot just say I'm sorry to someone that you just. So I don't know what to do. And my Aunt Pat is hysterically screaming because that eyeball cost top dollar. It was a special magnetized eye so it could keep up with the other one. And now I had just better pray that vacation was over and that they got that deposit back because now they were going to have to buy a brand new top dollar eye that was not in the budget. So I just didn't know what to do. I was like, my life is over. I am no longer Michaela. I am now Murph's girl who kicked Alzai out in the Cape. And it's awful. And everybody's just crying and pointing at me. And now my other aunts are getting in on it, like. And who's the blame part of the conversation's happening. So I just kind of back off into the water. I'm kind of like going back and like, regressing back to, like, where life as I once knew it had ended. And I just stand there and like, I kind of wish I had drowned and I kind of wish the Kennedys hadn't saved me. And I bent off into the waves and I just. I just started like sifting through sand and shells and pebbles and it's totally ridiculous, but like, I will never stop looking for this eye. I'm going to look fore. And I keep looking and looking and I'm sifting through and then all of a sudden there is an eyeball in my palm staring right at me. And so I scream and I drop it back and it sinks back into the water. But now we know it's possible. So everybody gets back into the water and now we're all sifting through and sifting through. And I pray to God for no more future happiness until we find this eye. And I also kind of pray that it not be me that finds it this time. So after like, an hour, my cousin Kevin finds the eye, and he holds it up in triumph, and he does not let go. And my Uncle Al takes the eye. He, like, washes it off and just pops it back in. And then he kind of, like, tests it, you know, and it's like keeping up with the other one. So it's working still. And now it's the weirdest thing, because now we know it's a fake eye. And now that you know it's a fake eye, it totally looks like a fake eye. And I can't believe that I never noticed it wasn't a fake eye before. So now vacation's back on, and so everybody gets back into their beach chairs, and they start to settle down to begin telling the story over and over like a million times about what I just did. And I have not really fully reintegrated back into the family yet. I'm kind of standing apart, and I notice that there actually has been, like, kind of a group of people who've been watching this whole thing. And then I see something that I didn't notice that no one noticed. And that's that two of the Kennedy kids, David and Michael, had taken a walk on the beach. And I can tell just by the look on their faces that they had stood there and seen the entire episode, that they had been there watching us. Thank you.

Kathryn Burns (51:23)

That was Mikayla Murphy. Mikayla's work has been featured in the New Yorker and produced both Off Broadway and at the Clinton White House. She's a co founder of Life Leadership fueled by entrepreneurism, an education platform for high school students in Detroit and New York City. She's currently director of education at the Bucks County Playhouse in Pennsylvania. Mikayla says her family continues to surprise her in all the best ways. That's it for this episode. We hope you'll join us next time for the Moth Radio Hour.

News Announcer (52:09)

Your host this hour was the Moth's artistic director, Kathryn Burns, who also directed the stories in the show. The rest of the Moth directorial staff, including includes Sarah Haberman, Sarah Austin, Janess, Jennifer Hickson, and Meg Bowles. Production support from Timothy Lou Lee. Special thanks to Lindy Hirsch and Harriet Sternberg. Most stories are true is remembered and affirmed by the storytellers. Our theme music is by the Drift. Other music in this hour from Brian Bromberg, Koji Kondo, Yasamin Shahosseini and Tom McDermott and Evan Christopher. The Moth is produced for radio by me, Jay Allison with Vicki Merrick at Atlantic Public Media in Woods Hole, Massachusetts. This hour was produced with funds from the National Endowment for the Arts. 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.