Every time I travel, I always put my Zoom recorder in my carry-on because I live in terror that the airline will lose my luggage and the show recording will be gone forever. Because this recorder essentially looks like a high-tech explosive device, Iāve learned itās best to take it out of my bag when going through security and open it up, to prevent my bag being pulled for inspection.
Today, in Boise:
TSA guy, spotting the recorder: Whoa! What the heck is that?
Me: Itās a recorder. (Not a bomb!)
TSA guy: Oh! Do you do podcasts?
Me: Yeah.
TSA guy: Are you one of those murder girls?
Me: No, sorry.
TSA guy: Oh thatās too bad. My sister listens to them like every day.
Me: Me too.
Side note: This airport has an unusual number of reminders not to bring guns on planes.
Last weekend, we held our first ever Story Collider team retreat in a big house out on the Jersey Shore. It was something Iād wanted to do for a long time -- get everyone from all our cities around North America -- New York, Boston, DC, St. Louis, Atlanta, Los Angeles, Toronto, and Vancouver -- together to review the basics, brainstorm ideas, and continue to develop our philosophy. And this year, thanks to my indefatigable co-director, Liz Neeley, it actually became possible. So I was looking forward to it.
But I donāt think I could have anticipated how it would feel that first night, looking out at 22 familiar faces I had never seen in the same room before. It was like, for the first time, Iād seen that this thing that is so important and meaningful to me and Liz is actually important and meaningful to a whole organization of people. So much so that they gave up their free time and traveled from miles and miles away to be together that weekend.
I didnāt know it until I felt it, but it turns out thatās a POWERFUL feeling.
In the evenings, we held mini storytelling shows in our rental homeās living room, in which every producer told an amazing story that made us gasp, sob, and/or crack up laughing.
I think I will remember those shows, and the enormous group hug that followed, forever.
I feel very fortunate to work with a team of folks who are this dedicated, talented, kind, and weird.Ā
Last May, at our big eighth anniversary fundraiser at Caveat in New York City, I put together a presentation about my work with Story Collider and why it matters to me. I canāt watch it personally, because seeing my own stark sincerity is like staring directly into the sun, but I hope you enjoy!
Last Wednesday, in honor of Blood Cancer Awareness Month and MPN Awareness Day, The Story Collider produced a private show in partnership with Incyte Corp. Each one of our storytellers was impacted by an MPN, which stands for myeloproliferative neoplasm (rolls right off the tongue in hosting, believe me), a term that encompasses a group of rare, chronic blood cancers that affect around 200,000 people in the US.Ā
The view from backstage at The Queen in Wilmington, Delaware:
The stories were drawn from a documentary series Incyte produced with all of our storytellers as subjects, made by Academy Award-winning director Cynthia Wade.
Theyāre gorgeous, and give you a snapshot into each of their stories:
To say Amy and Scott are an active, outdoorsy couple is kind of an understatement -- they even met on the ski slopes. But when Amy gets sicker, they wonder if theyāll have to give up the things they love. Spoiler alert: Amy went sky-diving last week.
While studying to become a doctor, Taja becomes so sick she has to give up her dream -- even though you couldnāt tell it from outward appearance. (āYou look fine,ā her boss says to her at one point.)
Nick is diagnosed just after he finds out his wife is pregnant, and worries about leaving his young family behind.
Barbara, a scuba diver and ocean lover with a background in marine biology, has to stay out of the ocean for FIVE YEARS after her bone marrow transplant due to her suppressed immune system. She visits the beach and watches the other beachgoers enjoy the ocean, wondering if they know how lucky they are... until one day, she finally gets her chance to return...
This show really drove home how important it is to sign up for the bone marrow registry -- you could save the life of someone like our amazing storytellers! (In fact, Paula was already on it!) One of the storytellers, Scott, told me that these days, in most cases, the donation procedure is just a matter of getting blood taken, instead of the painful procedure it used to be. So there was really no reason NOT to do it. I signed up last night, on BeTheMatch.org, and theyāre going to mail me a cheek swab to return, so they can match me with potential donors in their system. If youāre moved by these stories like I am, I highly recommend doing the same! It took me only five minutes to sign up on the Be the Match websiteĀ on my phone, and it felt great.
Last night, I was so honored to be a small part of Nestor Gomezās amazing storytelling show about immigration.Ā
Last May, The Story Collider went out to the Chicago area, and I got a chance to meet Nestor for the first time. Nestor is a Chicago-based storyteller who has won more than thirty Moth story slams. If you listen to his stories, youāll understand why. In particular, the stories he tells about his familyās immigration from Guatemala to the United States when he was a kid have always stuck out in my mind.
He opens one such story describing how, in Guatemala, his mother would cook moldy beans in baking soda in order to have something to feed her family, and Iāve never forgotten this image. And every time I read about the children separated from their families at the border, my mind always goes to the part of Nestorās story when heās momentarily separated from his father, unsure if heāll return, and I think,Ā āThat could have happened to my friend Nestor.ā Nestorās story has a happy ending, but so many of these stories donāt. After all, more than 400 kidsĀ separated from their families are still in government custody. And many of those who have been returned are deeplyĀ traumatized.Ā
Though we were familiar with each otherās stories and connected on social media, Nestor and I didnāt meet in real lifeĀ until that day in May (pictured below).Ā When he told me that listening to my stories had helped him hone his own storytelling when he started out, I felt surprised, and honored. The idea that my stories -- rooted in privilege, chock full of things like nannies and disappointing Christmas presents -- could inspire someone like Nestor to share his incredible and important stories was deeply humbling to me.Ā
Together, we came up with a plan to bring his Chicago-based immigration storytelling show, 80 Minutes Around the World, to New York this September. He found five incredible storytellers, and I helped out however I could.Ā
The result was a truly amazing show, with stories that inspired and devastated in the best possible way. Caveat recorded video of the stories that Nestor will share eventually -- which is fortunate because thereās no way I can do them justice here.Ā
First up, Nimisha Lavda shared the story of her familyās deportation hearing. It was honestly one of the most terrifying stories Iāve ever heard in my life. I was forced to break out my packet of tissues sooner than expected. You can read about it here.
Then, Nestor himself told one of the amazing stories from his journey -- this one about survival and forgiveness. Iām going to try to find a link to a recording because I donāt want to spoil any of the surprises by trying to describe it here.
Annie Tan told a really funny and beautiful story about her experience as a first-generation Chinese American and her struggle to connect with her Chinese parents.Ā Ā
Angel Ling told a story in which she sees an immigrant woman waiting for her children as they handle grocery shopping, and remembers her own childhood experiences, paying at the register while her mother waited at a distance. It contained this line that punched me straight in the heart: āWhat if Immigration picked up my mother while we were at the register? Who would help us? Who would care?ā
Richard Cardillo told the heartbreaking story of the event that motivated him to participate in a Trump Tower protest this year. It was here that I officially ran out of tissues. Here he is, yelling,Ā āNo ban! No wall!ā
The grand finale: Patricia Okoumou, a Staten Island-based activist born in the Congo, told the story behind her decision to scale the Statue of Liberty this summer in protest of the administrationās immigration policies.Ā
Iām continually blown away by the power that storytelling has to connect people from all walks of life. When you listen to a story, you get a chance to see the world from their perspective, and experience things as they did. (Thatās not just a nice idea, itās real neuroscience. Just ask Story Colliderās executive director, Liz Neeley, about the concept of transportation!) I canāt think of anything the world needs more of right now.Ā
On Wednesday night, around 10 pm, I arrived on Saturna Island, where MEOPAR (Marine Environmental Observation Prediction and Response) had invited Story Collider to lead a workshop for marine scientists. Story Colliderās Vancouver-based producer, Kayla Glynn, and I had taken the last ferry of the day from the mainland. Pictured here: Your jetlagged hero departing from Victoriaās Swartz Bay ferry terminal after a very long day of travel.
(Until I took this photo I had thought maybe I looked unusually good today because people had been super nice to me for no good reason. But after this, I realized it was just that I was in Canada.)
A gentleman from a local conservation organization picked us up at the dark, quiet dock when we arrived. Saturna Island has a population of only about 350 people -- significantly less than the population of the block I live on in New York City -- and because of the cover from the dense trees and mountains, it feels like even less. He nodded toward a nearby empty police car and said, āThere arenāt any police on this island -- they just leave that car here to let us know theyāre keeping an eye on things.ā
There arenāt any schools or hospitals either, he told us. The few students on Saturna take a water taxi to a school on another island. If you have a medical emergency, you have to be helicoptered to the mainland. I made a mental note to try not to break my neck over the course of the next 36 hours.
There were many āfirstsā for me for this workshop. First time conducting a workshop on an island (other than, you know, Manhattan and England, which donāt really count, I think). First time taking a ferry to a workshop location. This was also the first time Iād ever stayed in someoneās home, rather than a hotel, while conducting a Story Collider workshop. I definitely wasnāt complaining, in part because this was the view I woke up to:
The next morning, we were picked up on a tiny bus, which went around to the other homes where workshop participants were staying. I was incredibly jealous of the two who were staying in a home with two corgi dogs. Their names were Maggie and Ruff Ruff (the corgis, not the workshoppers), and frankly, Iām still not over it. They sat at the gate and saw the workshoppers off, like parents seeing their kids onto the school bus. (Iām so incredibly sorry that a photo of this event is not available. Please forgive me. I hope I have painted an adequate picture with my words.)
The group from MEOPAR was incredible, and another big reminder to me of how the stereotype of scientists as nerdy āindoor kidsā couldnāt be further from the truth. (Well, except for maybe physicists...) Conservation scientists are the closest modern-day, real-life analog to Indiana Jones in my opinion. Except with better sweaters.
Another first -- this was the first time (to my knowledge) that we had a couple in the workshop together. Justine Ammendolia and her partner, Jackie Saturno, work in ocean conservation together in Newfoundland, investigating plastic and other trash that washes ashore. I asked what it was like to work together as a couple, and they told me that, unlike other couples that go to the movies and stuff like that, they mainly spend their time together cutting open fish. I suggested that if one of them ever proposes, they should put the ring inside a fish. I feel like they took it under advisement.
That night, after the workshop, they took us all out to East Point to watch fruitlessly for whales that sadly never came. However, I think you will agree the view, pictured below with my esteemed associate Kayla looking on, was worth it anyway.
Lauren McWhinnie, a Scottish postdoc at the University of Victoria working with MEOPAR, pictured below, told us all about the MIA orcas as the sun set. The first captive orca, Moby Doll, was captured off Saturna Island in 1964. The Vancouver Aquarium had commissioned a sculptor to kill an orca and build a model of it for display, but when he harpooned the whale, it survived. So they towed him back to Vancouver instead, as a living model, his family trailing behind. In case youāre wondering, yes, I also find this incredibly depressing.
But I sleep better at night knowing how much our knowledge of orcas has expanded since then -- and knowing that scientists like Lauren and the rest of the folks at MEOPAR are hard at work protecting them.
Today begins the onslaught that is Story Colliderās fall travel season! (For those of you that donāt know, The Story Collider is a podcast and live show featuring stories about science, and I am its artistic director. Find out more here: storycollider.org.)Ā In fact, as we speak, I am 35,000 feet in the air.Ā
Between today and and the holidays, we will be holding workshops and more than twenty shows in our regular Home Stage cities of New York, Boston, DC, LA, Atlanta, St. Louis, Vancouver, Toronto, and Wellington, but also in:
Saturna Island, British Columbia
Wilmington, Delaware
Bar Harbor, Maine*
Ocean City, New Jersey (our first ever producersā retreat!)
Hartford, Connecticut
San Antonio, Texas
Ames, Iowa*
Manchester, UK
Cambridge, UK
Berlin, Germany
Charleston, West Virginia
Boise, Idaho
And more!
Over the course of the season (Iāll be present for most of the above, aside from those starred), Iāll be documenting our travel and work behind the scenes here, to give you a sense of some of the amazing stories behind the stories. And also to challenge myself to write every day, something that Iāve been inspired to do by my friend, the great writer and storyteller Matthew Dicks. (So please direct your complaints to him, thanks.)
I also want to note that at the close of this travel season, Iāll be donating my air miles to Miles4Migrants, an organization that accepts donations of frequent flyer miles to help reunify families.
Story Colliderās fall travel season begins this week, and New York bid me farewell over the weekend as only New York truly can ā with an unfortunate display of public masturbation.
This is the second time this has happened to me since I moved to New York 11 years ago. The first time was in a Starbucks. I will say, they did NOT call the police for this incident. Instead, a formidable woman in a green apron came charging out from behind the counter yelling, āOH NO, NOT AGAIN! I TOLD YOU NEVER AGAIN!!!!ā and the offender fled.
This time, Justin and I rounded a corner one night after dinner in Lower Manhattan and came face to, uh, face with the offender, at the same time as a couple of kids who were clearly newly minted NYU freshmen. (You can smell that new college kid smell ā itās like pencil shavings and corn fields and uncrushed dreams.)
NYU Kid 1 (in shock): Thatās the first time Iāve ever seen an erect penis!
NYU Kid 2 (clearly more worldly): ...Really?
The four of us all laughed in the way that New Yorkers do, bonded by our common experience of witnessing a stranger jerking off.
A block later, things became uncomfortable when we realized we were going to the same place and the four of us were all stuck in this moment together indefinitely.
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