Transcript
Sponsor/Host (0:00)
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Sponsor/Host (0:57)
OMG YES is a website that New York Times Wirecutter featured as one of their most popular gifts. And for good reason. It presents new findings from the largest ever research study into women's pleasure and intimacy. In partnership with researchers at Yale and Indiana University, they asked tens of thousands of women what they wished they and their partners had discovered sooner. They found the patterns in those discoveries, and all that wisdom about pleasure and intimacy is organized as hundreds of short videos, animations and how to Wirecutter doesn't give recommendations lightly. And when you see OMG yes. You'll understand why they featured it. It's warm, honest, and has regular women talking about real experiences. It's truly eye opening. I personally believe that what they're doing is long overdue. I love OMG yes. Wirecutter loves omg yes. And I think you're going to love it too. See for yourself@omgyes.com moth that's O M G Y dashes.com moth.
Christina Norman (2:01)
Welcome to the Moth. I'm Christina Norman. What's your story? It's the question you're asked on every date, around the dinner table at a job interview. How'd you get to be you? Our stories define us and shape us. They're beloved treasures passed down or secrets that we hide. Stories can be personal, legend or family legacy. In this episode, a little bit of both, about the memories we leave behind and some of the lessons learned. First up, Maxwell Pierce, who told his story at a New York City main stage where the theme was Ode to Joy. Here's Maxwell Live at the Moth.
Maxwell Pierce (2:44)
In the third grade, I fell in love with art. And that passion was compounded once my parents put me on a basketball team. It's very true. I found so much freedom to be creative within both of these spaces. I would put a mini trampoline right under my hoop in the backyard and try to imitate my favorite dunks from the college dunk contest and the NBA dunk contest. Then I would go back inside the house and draw for another two or three hours. But once it was time for me to learn more than how to play sports in recess or draw figures in art class, I began to struggle academically. I was a really shy kid who was too afraid to raise his hand and answer a question in class. I didn't feel a connection to the curriculum and I didn't see a value in my schoolwork. And this is so ironic, because I am the grandson of a former director of the American Federation of Teachers. And this was a woman who I very much respected. So whenever my grandmother would come into the classroom to teach about black history, I became invisible. My grandmother, Lovely Hill, and yes, that is her real maiden name, 5 foot 2. On her absolute best day, Bambi, please don't kill me for saying that. She would dress in these uniquely patterned garments that she collected from all over the world as she traveled as a model and as an educator. This woman would send me postcards from every single city that she was in. And the only thing that really intrigued me about those postcards was the front, because there was art on it. This lady drove around in a beautiful green Jaguar playing CDs that had music from the 1960s on them. My grandmother would pick me up every single day from school. But this was a problem for me because I needed to avoid all grandmother to teacher interaction as much as possible. It felt like I was performing some kind of government level diversion tactics. But one winter evening, my grandmother comes to pick me up from school. My teacher opens the passenger door and I sit inside. My heart immediately sinks into the engine of the car. This lady had the nerve to snitch on me. She told my grandmother that I was on the verge of failing her class. And my grandmother was devastated. My grandmother drove us straight back to her house. And she told me to wait here in the car while she went upstairs to grab a few things. I sat in that car in a total panic. I lived to impress this woman. My grandmother came back downstairs and we drove straight to a local restaurant called Garlic and Pepper. This was a Thai restaurant that had the best chicken Tenders and fries that you would ever have in your entire life. This was the place to be when I was a kid. They had several TVs that would display sports highlights, and they never said no. When I asked to play some of my favorite cartoons. My grandmother picked out a table in the back corner where I could eat in peace and do my homework. But only we didn't open any books that day. She reached in her cluttered purse and pulled out some photos of our relatives, and she said, did you know that your great uncle Abram Hill was the founder of the American Negro Theater? Did you know that your dad's dad was a boxing promoter who worked with Muhammad Ali, George Foreman, and several other greats? We only retain information if we care enough about it. I didn't quite understand this, but it was enough to open my mind. I suddenly felt this feeling that there was a sense of wonder stuck in the back of my head. For the next two years, my grandmother and I would go to this very same table at Garlic and Pepper, my homework scattered all over the place, and we dive into the past together. Every one of these homework sessions showed me just how deep my grandmother's collection of stylish purses was. Anytime my grandmother would reach into that purse, it felt like waiting for lottery numbers to be called. You didn't quite know what was going to be pulled, but you knew something good was coming. The sound of her bangles clinking together as she rustled through that purse became one of my favorite sounds in the world. Because this meant that I was about to learn something new about how special our family is. And that really meant a lot. And this wasn't the boring history that my teachers yapped about for an hour in school every day. This history was alive, and I had a real connection to it. This was enough to make me ask about my grandmother's past. Lovely Hill was born in Harlem in 1932, so she's pretty old. She was one of the first black models for Pepsi and Clairol. She was also on the COVID of two JET magazines. I took this new love and connection with history, and I brought it back to school with me. And the next few semesters, I became an A and B student. I couldn't wait to get my next report card because I really wanted to show my grandmother. I remember running up her stairs with a totally different pace than I normally did. I got to my grandmother's kitchen table. As I began to read the comments on this report card, I can see my grandmother in my peripheral vision, sitting on the edge of her chair. Anytime I read the words, maxwell has improved, I could physically see my grandmother step out of the chair and start to dance. This was the most rewarding thing that I could have ever imagined. More rewarding than any pizza party or video game that you could give a kid. So all throughout high school, she was right there with me. By the time I got to college, I was personally invested in becoming the keeper of our family's history. I began to keep and save these items that she would hand pick anytime that we would meet up. Sometimes they would be newspapers, and she would write my name on the top of an article that she thought would pique my interest. And other times, it would be a piece of art that she saved from when I was a kid. And I thought this was such an honor for her to keep these artworks from me that I didn't even remember making. I knew that the rest of my college career, I would be thriving. So by the time I got to my senior year, I was able to compete in the college slam dunk contest. This contest was on espn, and this was what I was dreaming of when I was a kid. And I didn't win, but I made a really good impression. And the Harlem Globetrotters happened to be watching. So one day, I realized that the Harlem Globetrotters had called and left a message for me. And I couldn't wait to share the news with my family. I orchestrated for us all to meet in my mom's living room, which is the typical gathering place for family functions. Here is my grandmother yet again, sitting on the edge of her seat, waiting for me to read whatever it is that I'm about to read on this contract. My grandmother has this tendency to try and finish your sentence when she gets really excited about certain things. But on this day, I said something that I never said before. I looked up from the contract, and I said, I am now officially a member of the Harlem Globetrotters. And as my family started to cheer, I couldn't help but think about that younger version of me that was jumping off the trampoline. I started to think about my place in my family's history, the legacy of the relatives that I constantly learned about. I spent the last 27 years listening to my grandmother give flowers to relatives like Marian Anderson, who is, in fact, a relative of ours, and we are currently in the Marian Anderson theater right now, And several others. What I really thought about that day was, how can I give flowers back to my grandmother? And this is when I had the idea that I would create a collection of artwork that would honor my grandmother's legacy. So one day, while I'm pacing back and forth in my Cincinnati apartment, I call my grandmother and I ask, can you tell me more about your magazine covers? She shared a story with me that was so striking I didn't even need to write it down. In the 1950s, my grandmother was at the pinnacle of her modeling career. Once she had her first daughter, she retired and fully went into education. And one day she went to the doctor and the doctor basically told her that her ovaries were, quote, unquote bad and that they needed to be removed. Sterilization of black women at this time was rampant in the country, so we don't really know how true this diagnosis was. But nevertheless, she got on the schedule for the procedure. And two days before this procedure, Ebony magazine called and asked if she would come out of retirement to model this new cover for Hats with the Millinery Association. My grandmother skips the procedure, shoots this cover, and shortly after got pregnant with my mother. So this Ebony magazine quite literally saved my mom's life and therefore my life and my siblings lives. All this time I thought that the greatest contribution that my grandmother had given me was riding to garlic and pepper and watching my grades improve or dancing in her kitchen or going to my basketball games and giving me back my artwork. But in reality, the greatest thing that my grandmother, along with my parents, has given me was me. And my grandmother was a Globetrotter. And so am I. Thank you.