transcript

Speaker 1:
[00:00] Welcome to The Moth Podcast. I'm your host, Dan Kennedy. It's undeniable just how attached we are to technology and how integral it is to our lives. Sure, there are times, oh, actually, literally making sure my phone is turned off so we can record this and you can listen to it on your phone. There are definitely times we take those little breaks, those sort of digital detox periods from social media, or we put away messages on our email so that we can go off and be one with nature. But even then, we use Google Maps to get to our campground, or we download a meditation app to unwind while we're on that trip. But this week, we're talking about the times when technology really isn't the answer. Our two stories this week are actually from the same story slam here in New York City, fittingly themed technology. Up first, Jill Bergman, here's Jill live at The Moth.

Speaker 2:
[01:06] This story takes place in 1999. At the time, I had just turned 30, and for my 30th birthday, I decided to venture into the world of music. My past experience with music was lessons for piano when I was about seven, and I read the music backwards for a week. And the second venture into music was in middle school. I took a clarinet back and forth to school for about a month, too afraid to tell my parents I didn't know where band practice was. So at 30, I really had no experience with music, and I thought I'd go for something real easy, and went with an instrument that would make me happy. And the one thing that I thought always made me happy was the banjo. So I thought, boy, easy instrument to learn. Not the best choice for someone who has no rhythm at all. And so I got the banjo, I'm getting lessons, and the instructor has me buy a metronome, technology metronome. And so I don't buy, I don't buy the little, cause I really need technology, I buy the one with all the bells and whistles. And it's got, you know, it's got the little rhythm, it goes beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep, it has all the different things. But for me, being very new into the music world, I had it set very low, and it's got the big red flashy light, so it's, you know, beep beep beep. And I'm trying to strum along with it. And I'm working really hard at this, and counting to four has never been so hard in my entire life. And I have a business trip paired with a business conference, and I'm gonna be gone for about three weeks. And I decide that I'm gonna take my Banjo with me. Banjo and I have a talk, we say, let's go on the trip together. And we get on the airplane, we go, I practice very quietly in my hotel room, I have a pretty good trip, I have a pretty good conference, I'm very pleased with myself for sticking with music. And now I'm traveling home. And I get on the plane, and it is the big jumbo jet that seats 252, first class upstairs. And I'm way in the back, and there's no room to put the Banjo. And so a flight attendant asks if she can put it up in first class. And I'm torn, and I finally give her my Banjo, and it goes up into first class and it disappears. Now at this point in the story, what you need to know is my Banjo case is soft, it's very thin nylon, and my metronome is in the case, and my metronome still has batteries in it. What you also need to know is that after flight attendant number one put Banjo in said closet, flight attendant number two put something else in said closet, and flight attendant number three opened said closet to the metronome going beep, beep, beep, beep, beep. So as this big jumbo plane is nearly loaded with, remember, first class upstairs, downstairs, huge plane, they start making announcements. Everybody has to get off the plane, and the flight attendants are coming from the back in this military army yelling at everybody, off the plane, off the plane, off the plane, leave your bag, leave your bag. They're not letting anybody, they're pulling bags out of people's hands, they're getting everybody gets off the plane, and they're all kind of mumbling. And finally, they start seeing, you know, police cars show up with lights, and nobody knows what's going on. We're by the big glass window. They're telling us, please stand back from the windows. And then the police cars go away, and they come and they say, we're all getting back on the plane. It was a metronome and a musical instrument case. And my heart just sank. And they have to re-ticket everybody, and it takes a long time. So when I get back on the... I don't know if I'm supposed to tell anybody. I'm starting to sweat profusely. And the flight attendant who remembered me and remembered the banjo, of course, pulled me aside into the little galley, and she says, don't tell anyone. She says, people are going to get real upset. Just sit down. It's going to be okay. So I sit in my seat, and I'm on the edge, and I'm sitting next to a family of five, like mom and dad, and I got the babies and everything, and they're looking at me. They're like, we were so scared, and I'm like, you don't know how scared I am. And we take off. We're going back to where we're going, and I'm flying thinking they're going to arrest me on the other end. I just know it. Or they're going to find me, and I'm so in debt because of banjo lessons, and I just have no money left. And I'm like, maybe I can sell a kidney. Maybe I could donate my eggs. I'm thinking all the different ways I could raise money to pay when they're going to arrest me on the other end. But we land, and nothing happens, and everyone gets off the plane, and nothing happens. And I let everybody go off the plane. And I still have to go get my banjo, which is up in first class. So I go to get it, and all the pilots and flight attendants are waiting with the banjo sitting in the seat. And I start crying and crying. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I apologize to everybody. And I get my banjo, but that's not quite the end of the story, because now I got to go get my luggage along with the 500 other people who know a musical instrument, that's now on my back, has delayed them two hours. So I see my luggage going around and around and around from a couple of aisles away. And I swoop in at the last minute, I get it, and I am sitting and waiting for my taxi, or the van shuttle ride to come up and a man sits next to me, he's like, were you on the flight to Denver? We had a delay with a musical instrument. And I said, oh no, no, no, I just flew in from Hawaii. Thank you very much.

Speaker 1:
[07:00] Jill Bergman is an architect and storyteller. She believes that short, well-run meetings are a thing of beauty, and she has a tiny magic door cut into her home. That is probably the best sentence I've ever read in a Moth storyteller bio. She also wants you to know that she won third place at this Story Slam. Thanks for sharing your story with us, Jill. Up next, we have Ailey Baker from the same Moth Story Slam that night in New York. And just a quick clarification before we jump in, Ailey Baker was working as a baker before this story took place, which you'll hear becomes a crucial part of her story. So here's Ailey, live at The Moth.

Speaker 3:
[07:55] It's five o'clock in the morning, and the sun is just coming over the horizon, and I'm sailing a sailing canoe in the middle of the Pacific, a hundred miles from land. Three years ago, I was doing fieldwork in the Micronesia when I met Cesario, one of the last traditional navigators in all of the Pacific. Cesario doesn't use a GPS, he doesn't use compass, he doesn't use maps. He only uses the stars and the rising sun and the wind and the birds. Young boys on his island are placed in tide pools at a young age so that they can begin to feel the patterns of water and wind on their bodies. Some people say that they have the power to call whales to their boat, to guide them to their destination, and when it's a moonless night, they can actually call the thunder and lightning so that they can see the sea. So Cesario invites me on this trip, and there's this one night when the sky is completely covered in fog, and he's steering the boat, only he's not actually facing forward, he's facing backward and sailing with only a handful of stars and sky into the mist. Two days later, after 12 days at sea, we arrive at an island the size of this building. Being on a sailing canoe is kind of like being on a raft and camping in the middle of the open ocean. Every person has a bunk and every person has a hammock. You're six hours on and six hours off, but there's absolutely no shielding you from the elements. When it's rainy, you're soaked and you're freezing, and when it's hot, you're completely burning. For me, most of the time, I was also ready to throw up. But Cesario is teaching us so much. In the morning, he teaches us how to read the clouds so that we can tell the weather, and at night, he's showing us the storm clouds. One afternoon, he tells us that the reason that the storm, the waves are so high at this time of year is so that they can rise up and clean the beach so that the turtles can go up and lay eggs. When there's a storm, he's out there blowing the conch shells so that he can break up the thunderclouds. There's this one night that we're out and it's raining, and we actually have the sails down because it's so windy, and we're just trying to keep under this tarp to stay warm. We're putting coconut oil on ourselves. And I turned to my friend, and we realized that we both worked at bakeries at one point in our life. And at this point, that is the most exciting thing, and we think when we finally get to land, we are going to bake bread. And we decide we're going to make bread, but we need to look up our recipe on the internet because we don't know it by heart. And Cesario overhears us, and he gets so angry. He says, why are you so lazy? What happens if you lose that recipe? What happens if your computer dies? Can you bake bread then? You have to learn it to know it. And suddenly, I am blown open. I feel utterly helpless. And I realize that the main difference between me and Cesario, it's that Cesario holds all of his information within him, and I hold it outside of myself. There is absolutely nothing between Cesario and the stars and the wind and the waves. He holds it within him. Whereas with me, if I'm without my journal or my iPhone, I am utterly lost. Cesario will never be lost. And I realize if I'm facing an encounter of ingredients, even me who worked three summers in a bakery, waking 95 loaves of bread a day, I will never be able to bake something resembling bread. And so finally the night comes when I'm gonna tell Cesario my star points and I'm feeling really jazzed. I'm sailing the, you know, I've got the paddle and I'm moving forward and all of a sudden I look down and water is rushing into the bunk and I realize our boat is about to sink. And it all happened so quickly. It's so surreal. The sails are down. People are starting to bail frantically using anything they can get. The boat is filling with water and we're tipping and all of a sudden the left side of the boat is underwater and things are floating away. Our oven, our pots and pans, my sleeping bag, everything is just drifting away. And I'm scrambling to find life jackets to give to people and I fall and my leg is bleeding and all of a sudden I freeze. Because all I can think about is the satellite phone that's in the captain's box. And I know that it's cheating and I know that it's going against everything Cesario has taught me. And I know that as soon as I call that phone, I'm bringing my world of technology rushing into this wonderful world that we've created. But I can't stop myself. Cesario, are you going to call someone? And he stops bailing and he looks up to me on the high side of the canoe and he doesn't say anything. And I feel horrible. I know that this has been my test and I just failed. The sun is rising and he climbs up to the top of the canoe and for the very first time in my life, he gives me a hug. And I don't know at first whether it's a hug that he wants to give for a child or someone out of pity. But he turns to me and he says, Ailey, everything is going to be okay. Keep an open mind and a clear head and everything will be fine. And in that moment, I don't know that we're going to be picked up in six hours by cargo ship. And I don't know that by midnight, we're going to be back on dry land. But I do know, Cesario does not judge me. In fact, I think he knows as well as I do that I will never be able to sail a boat in the middle of the fog and find my way. But I think he also knows that when I get back to New York, I am going to keep an open mind. And I will try as hard as I can to walk down a busy street and know which way is north, to be able to bake bread. And for God's sake, to look up for my iPhone and know that the stars are more than just points of light.

Speaker 1:
[13:22] That was Ailey Baker. And it seems Ailey is living out her promise to be less reliant on technology. When we reached out to her to follow up on the story, our email bounced back because of a full inbox, and then we tried to contact Ailey through Facebook, and we found a public status saying that she was taking a break from social media, but sent her love to friends and family. When we did finally get in touch with Ailey through a mutual friend in the Moth family, Ailey told us that after the shipwreck, the community and Micronesia rebuilt the canoe, and they've been sailing ever since. So I feel like there's always a lesson to be learned from Moth storytellers, and I'm not necessarily saying that we should all go fully AWOL, but maybe we can all follow Ailey's lead, just taking a little break from technology every once in a while. That's it for us this week here at The Moth Podcast. Until next time, from all of us here at The Moth, have a story-worthy week.

Speaker 4:
[14:24] Podcast production by Julia Purcell. Dan Kennedy is the author of Loser Goes First, Rock On, and American Spirit. He's also a regular host and storyteller with The Moth.