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This autumn, fall for Moth Stories as we travel across the globe for our mainstages. We're excited to announce our fall lineup of storytelling shows. From New York City to Iowa City, London, Nairobi, and so many more, The Moth will be performing in a city near you, featuring a curation of true stories. The Moth mainstage shows feature five tellers who share beautiful, unbelievable, hilarious, and often powerful true stories on a common theme. Each one told reveals something new about our shared connection.
To buy your tickets or find out more about our calendar, visit themoth.org slash mainstage. We hope to see you soon. Welcome to The Moth Podcast. I'm Chloe Salmon, a director at The Moth and your host for this episode.
One of the best things about a story slam is that no matter where you are in the world, the room has a similar atmosphere. The people are different, of course, and the vibes can shift a bit from show to show, but overall it is a magical thing. Moth audiences, wherever they are, seem to be universally enthusiastic and supportive. And it's true whether you're in New York or Ann Arbor, London or Melbourne. That's according to Melbourne story slam producer Selena Brennan.
And in this episode, we're going to showcase two of those stories, as well as reflect on the legacy of Cal Wilson, longtime Melbourne Story Slam host and an important part of the Moth family and Melbourne storytelling community. In Melbourne, as with any Moth Story Slam, there are stories of loss and hope, romance and tragedy, and especially in Melbourne, comedy.
That's according to producer Selena Brennan, who says there are a lot of funny stories with self-deprecatory slants that often reflect the laconic or larrikin personalities of the storytellers. First up, we have Elizabeth Gray, who told this at a Melbourne story slam where the theme of the night was education. Here's Elizabeth live at the Moth. I have two beautiful boys, and they were born 22 months apart, and they like chalk and cheese. But in their own separate ways, they're...
gorgeous and funny and kind and smart and they're both on the autism spectrum. And when my husband and I started looking for schools, we were told that my eldest was too high functioning to be eligible for a special needs school. We were a little bit worried about sending him to a big kind of local school because we thought that he might get lost or alternatively misunderstood and garnered the wrong type of attention. So
It was just by pure luck that we found an amazing school that had small class sizes, an amazing teaching philosophy and amazing teachers. And we went through a few hoops and we managed to get him enrolled. And before we knew it, it was his first day of school. So normally I'm a chronic snooze button presser. But on this particular day, when the alarm went off, I jumped up and I went to find my two boys. And they were where I expected them to be, which was sitting up in bed with Nana.
kind of on either side of her, like, two kind of snuggly bookends. And I was feeling really anxious, but I wanted to keep it light, so I sort of went in there and I said, "'Guess what day it is today?' And my eldest, he didn't move, but he looked at me and he said, "'It's my first day of school!' And I'm like, "'Yeah!' And then Nana looked at me and she sort of said wearily, "'And guess what your son wants to be called today?' Now, some kids on the autism spectrum can become obsessed with a particular subject.'
So at the time, my son's obsession was space. Everything was about space. And on the holidays, every day he'd wake up and he'd want to be called a particular planet. I think some of you can see where this is going. And he insisted, he wouldn't answer to anything else. I'd be kind of like sat and just stop bouncing on the couch. Jupiter, go tidy your room. And so it was this particular morning on his first day of school that he looks at me proudly and he said, Mum...
today I am Uranus. And the earth just kind of slowed in its rotation and just kind of ground to a halt. And all I could say in response to this was like, what? And he said, Uranus. Today I am Uranus. So I was kind of in shock and I kind of, you know, backpedalled out of there and I went to the bedroom to get some reinforcements. And I told my husband and he just kind of groaned and sort of
swung his legs out of bed and said, right, I've got a plan. So his plan consisted of basically explaining in acute detail what an anus did... ..and what came out of it. And there was a lot of poo jokes and there was some, you know, tickling thrown in. And so at the end of it, he stood up and he looked triumphant and he said, so, do you still want to be called Uranus? And my eldest son looked at him like he was crazy and said...
Yes. Because that's what I am today. So kind of threw up our hands in despair and continued on with the day. So all of the breakfasting and getting dressed was done a lot quicker than usual. And then it was time to go. So the plan was my youngest would stay with Nana and that my husband and I would take our eldest to the bus. He would take the bus out to school and then we would meet him there for a morning meeting.
So, I was on the way to the bus and I just couldn't stand it. And I just turned to him, I turned to Uranus sitting in the back seat, looking very small, and I said, right, that's it. I've had enough. I don't want you to be called Uranus. I want you to be called by your real name today and that's it. No argument. And he kind of looked at me and his little lip wobbled a bit and he said, OK. And it was one of the times in my parenting career where I felt absolutely relieved but shite all at the same time. LAUGHTER
So I started putting him on the bus and I gave him a big hug and I sort of grabbed him and I said, make sure you don't take your seatbelt off in any circumstances. And on he went onto the bus. So then my husband and I drove out to the school and it was about a 40 minute drive and we get there and the bus arrives and all the kids pile off. My son's not there. The bus driver gets up, gets off, still no son. So we're starting to really freak out. It's like, what if he got off at another stop and no one realised?
What if he's got into another dimension and no one realised? So we sprint onto the bus and there he is, sitting there by himself. And he looks at me and he's like, 'What are you doing here?' And I'm like, 'What are you doing here, still on the bus?' He's like, 'You told me not to take my seatbelt off.' I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.
So we drove home and then began the longest six hours of my life. And it was like, you know, maybe I started him too soon. Maybe he should go to a special needs school. What if he gets bullied? What if he doesn't make any friends? And all of these negative thoughts were just spinning around in my head. And finally it was time to pick him up. And he got off the bus and I gave him a big hug. And as I was strapping him into his car seat, I realised he had something in his hand. And I said, what have you got there?
and he looked a little sheepish and he showed it to me and it was a perfectly round cardboard cutout of the planet Uranus. And I said, "Who gave that to you?" And he said, "The teacher gave it to me." And I learnt three valuable lessons that day. The first one is worrying about your kids when they're in someone else's care is useless. It just gives you a sore tummy and nothing else. Secondly, my son will always find a way to let his unique light shine through. And thirdly, there will always be people around who want to see him shine.
Thank you. That was Elizabeth Gray. Elizabeth has been a short story writer most of her life. However, since getting on stage at The Moth in October of 2016, she's fallen in love with storytelling. She lives in Melbourne with her husband, two sons, and two cats.
Whether you're in Melbourne or anywhere The Moth has a slam, we'd love for you to join us. Just go to themoth.org/events for a list of upcoming shows and themes. It might seem scary to come and share a story, and if you just want to come and hear some tales from your community, that's amazing too. But there's something special when you actually get on stage, and trust us, it's not that scary.
In fact, one of the things that Melbourne's Story Slam producer, Selena Brennan, appreciates most about her city's slams is how kind the audience is. Quote, "There's been more than one time that a storyteller has frozen because they've forgotten the next part of the story, and the audience has waited patiently or leaned in encouragingly or even audibly cheered them on, appreciating that it takes courage to be on stage, especially to share something personal."
One of the people who has made the Melbourne stage so kind and welcoming was Cal Wilson. In addition to being an incredible comedian, writer, and multi-hyphenate, Cal was the longtime host of our Melbourne Story Slams.
She passed away in 2023, but she left a legacy of kindness, humor, and vulnerability. We'd like to play one of her stories for you. She told this at the very first Moth Story Slam in Melbourne in 2015, where the theme of the night, fittingly, was first. Here's Kyle Wilson. Thanks.
By the time I had my first swimming lesson at the age of five, I was already terrified of the water. I don't really remember how it started. I think I was held under the water by an older kid. All I remember is always feeling the panic and the terror and water being forced up my nose and I just hated the water. But I eventually learnt to swim at the age of 43. LAUGHTER
So 38 years in between, it makes me sound like a slow learner, but I spent those years just avoiding the water because I just hated it. I would make up any excuse, I didn't like the beach because the sand would get on my book, but really I was just scared of the water. And you know, we had school sports at high school and everyone had to go in the swimming and everyone else swam a length, but they made me and three other losers swim a width. And I got two strokes in and I stopped and I ran the rest of the way.
And I still got last. So I've always been scared of the water. And then when my son was born six years ago, the thing by the time he was born, I was used to it being a part of my identity as an adult who can't swim. And it became like a mildly interesting fact to start a conversation with at parties. Like, as an adult, if you go, I can't swim, everyone's like, really? How come? Why not? And they start interrogating you as if you've made it up.
But the thing is, if I was going to invent something about myself, I would make it more interesting than not being able to swim. I would have said something like, I'm really good at archery. I'm a magnificent archer. Or I would have said, oh, my father was partially eaten by a bear. I would have said something...
Better than I just can't swim. And so when my son was born, I didn't want him to have the same fate as me. And so I made sure that we started swimming lessons with him when he was tiny. He was seven months old. And when they're that age, you have to go in the water with them. But it was okay because it was only waist deep. I didn't have to put my face in.
And at that stage, when you are swimming with a baby, all you're basically doing is you're just swishing them around. It's like you're washing a marrow. Nothing very much happens in the swimming lesson. And then they get a bit older and they start to do more stuff like crawl off a mat into the water and you catch them and I dropped mine. LAUGHTER
I caught him again, I got him out of the water, I was panicking and I kind of fished him out of the water and he came up with a smile on his face like it was Esther Williams in a water ballet. I was like, we are not the same person. And he's loved swimming ever since. And last year when he turned five, I had this revelation that he loves swimming so much, he loves the water so much that I am going to be spending a lot of my time with him in the water.
I was like, as his parent, I should be able to enjoy that and I should also be able to rescue him if something goes wrong. And I should be able to swim. Also, the secondary reason was I can't let my five-year-old beat me. So...
I started having swimming lessons last year at the same swimming school as my son. Which was a very levelling experience. We weren't in the same class obviously because that would be weird. But we were in the next lane to each other. And it's a weird thing. It is a weird thing to look around a pool that is full of swimming lessons and realise that there are 50 people in that pool and you are the only person who is older than five. And you also think,
Don't think about what's gone in the water. So the first swimming lesson I had, I was terrified. And it sounds so stupid, but I was terrified. And the teacher went, it's okay. All I want you to do is put your face in the water and breathe out. And I was like, that is the worst thing you could ask me to do. And so I put my face in the water and I freaked out and I stood up again and she went, I know what your problem is. You've got to breathe air out your nose. And I went, what are you talking about? It was a revelation to me. I had no idea. I had no idea.
I had no idea you were supposed to blow air out your nose when you swam. I just thought you guys were better at dealing with the horrible torment of having water forced up your nose. I thought everyone just dealt with it and was like, "Ah, it feels like shit, but I'm fine, I'm fine!"
And so she cured me. She cured my breathing. It was amazing. The first swimming lesson, I did like five meters with a kickboard, breathing, and I felt like Ian Thorpe. I was like, obviously an Ian Thorpe with lowered expectations, but an Ian Thorpe, right? And I was like, that's it, I'm cured, I can swim, I can totally do it. And I went back to the next lesson thinking that I was not afraid of water anymore. But this thing
happens when you've been afraid of something for so long even though intellectually you know you don't have to be frightened of it anymore your hindbrain doesn't believe you and so I went back to the second lesson I put my face in the water going it's okay I breathe out air through my nose it's okay but my hindbrain was going no I
the wetness kills us! Game over man, game over! And it took me weeks to get over the fear of putting my face in the water but gradually I got better and better and I learnt how to swim and I stopped using a kickboard and then finally, finally at the end of the term, six months after I started because I didn't want to rush it because it had been 38 years so don't pick it up quickly at the end of six months I swam my first 25 metre length and I got to the end of the pool and I was so euphoric and my little boy was at the end of the pool and I went
And my son went, "Good job, mummy. Go and do another one." And I had this revelation that like, I've done a whole lot of things for the first time. I swam my first length. I've gone to a pool on purpose for pleasure with my husband and I've swum so much. I got sick from the lactic acid and I was sick in the car park and it was amazing.
And the only side effect is that now that I can swim, I've got to tell everyone about it really quickly because at the moment, I'm still a 44-year-old woman who's just learnt to swim. But in six months' time, I will just be a 44-year-old woman who can swim. And that's every 44-year-old woman. And so I'm going to have to come up with a new story at parties that makes me mildly interesting. So I'm going to go with being a magnificent archer. Thank you. That was Cal Wilson.
Originally from New Zealand, Cal was a much-loved comedian, storyteller, writer, and actor whose talent, generosity, and friendship has been at the heart of the Australian comedy scene for the past two decades. She became one of Australia and New Zealand's best-known comedians and regularly appeared on TV in shows such as Would I Lie to You?, QI, I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here, her own Netflix stand-up special, and most recently as co-host of The Great Australian Bake Off.
She died after a short illness in 2023 and is widely missed by all those who knew and worked with her around the world. In Selena Brennan's words, "Cal made it safe for all of our storytellers to be vulnerable because she led by example. She was our OG host and has left a big hole in our Melbourne Moth community, but an impressive legacy for us to continue." I myself met Cal a few years ago when I flew to Melbourne to help put on their very first Grand Slam.
Watching her host was like being given the warmest hug. Her love for the slams and the storytellers was contagious. I'd like to leave you with something Cal wrote for the Sydney Herald in 2018. After she passed, so many of us at the Moth Office reread it. And at least for me, it really reaffirmed what we aim to do here. Here's a section. Stories connect us. They show us we're not alone. Telling a story can take the power out of a secret, lift a weight off your shoulders, or give you courage.
There's nothing like seeing someone discover how funny they are or share something real and painful and have a whole audience shout love back at them. We'll have a link to Cal's full article in the show description, along with information on how you too can share your own story and hear the stories shared by others. That's it for this episode. From all of us here at The Moth, we hope a whole audience shouts love back at you soon.
Chloe Salmon is a director at The Moth. Her favorite Moth moments come on show days when the cardio is done, the house lights go down, and the magic settles in. This episode of The Moth Podcast was produced by Sarah Austin-Ginesse, Sarah Jane Johnson, and me, Mark Sollinger.
The rest of the Moth's leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Jennifer Hickson, Meg Bowles, Kate Tellers, Marina Cloutier, Suzanne Rust, Brandon Grant Walker, Leigh-Anne Gulley, and Aldi Caza. The Moth would like to thank its supporters and listeners. Stories like these are made possible by community giving. If you're not already a member, please consider becoming one or making a one-time donation today at themoth.org slash giveback.
All Moth stories are true, as remembered by the storytellers. For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story, and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org. The Moth Podcast is presented by PeerX, the public radio exchange. Helping make public radio more public at peerx.org.
