Transcript : "Power of Place" Part 1
Marc Moss: [00:00:00] Welcome to the Tell Us Something podcast. Tell Us Something is a nonprofit that helps people share their true personal stories around a theme live in person and without notes. I’m Mark Moss, your host and executive director of Tell Us Something. Tell Us Something is supported in part this year by a grant from the Montana 250th Commission, which was established to coordinate statewide efforts to commemorate the 250th anniversary of the founding of the United States of America.
The objectives of the commission include promoting civic engagement, and Tell Us Something at its core does this by encouraging community members to share and listen to the stories of those who live, work, and play here in Montana. We are grateful to the Montana 250th Commission for their generosity.
This week on the podcast.
Karna Sundby: I could smell horse sweat and leather and, and gun smoke in the air, and I was holding my rifle and felt the weight of it against me and the sweat [00:01:00] running down my neck, and I could taste the salt and the dirt on my face. And I looked around and I saw my friends standing up in the back of these wagons.
Noura Mahmoud: One day after the lesson, a student called Lily raised her hand and asked a question, “Can one person change the life of someone?” I looked at her and answered, “Well, Lily, one person, one conversation, one teacher-”
Marc Moss: Four storytellers share their true personal story on the theme power of place.
Madeline: I was drooling all over the flashlight.
And about 15 minutes in and I’m just crying and I’m like, “Please, take them, take them.” Nothing’s happening. I, I kind of stick them in my armpit and then I go back into the barn. I finally call Andy and I pl- say, “Please, like, get down here. I, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Cathy Scholtens: We tore into [00:02:00] that chocolate like a pack of wolves.
You just take a bite. If you didn’t like it, you just spit it out, just threw it on the ground. It was insane, and we weren’t saying much, okay? It was very quiet. We’re just bah, bah, bah.
Marc Moss: Our stories today were recorded live in person in front of a packed lawn on June 16th, 2026 at Bonner Park Bandshell in Missoula, Montana.
Stay tuned As we gathered under the summer sky at the Bonner Park Bandshell, we acknowledged that we are standing on the ancestral homelands of the Salish, Pend d’Oreille, Kalispel peoples. For generations, these tribes have stewarded the Missoula and Bitterroot valleys, deeply connected to the rhythm of this land.
We recognize that our event’s theme that night, the power of place, is intimately tied to their enduring relationship with this region. June brought the vibrant blooms of the bitterroot, Montana’s [00:03:00] state flower, and a sacred plant of deep cultural, historical, and spiritual significance to the Salish people.
In this season of growth and renewal, we honor their past, present, and future descendants who continue to live, create, and enrich our community today. Ways that you can honor the land we occupy and celebrate the indigenous peoples who were the first peoples here are to support indigenous artists and partake in celebration with indigenous peoples.
Remember this: Tell Us Something stories sometimes have adult themes. Storytellers sometimes use adult language. Please take care of yourself. Just a heads-up before you listen to the stories in this episode. The recording engineer was unable to get a clear recording of the live event. During the quality assurance process, I noticed a distinctive hum permeating the entire recording.
In order to fix this issue, [00:04:00] the engineer applied techniques that unfortunately removed much of the live feel of the recordings. It is unfortunate, and this is the best he could do. Thank you so much for your understanding. All right, let’s get to the stories. In our first story, a random audition lands Linda Grinde on the set of one of Hollywood’s most notorious movie disasters.
It’s 1979, and Linda is headed to Montana for a summer theater gig. She ends up wrapped in layers of wool, riding in buckboard wagons and holding a rifle near the Canadian border. Linda calls her story Time Traveler. Thanks for listening.
Karna Sundby: Have you ever wondered what it would be like to time travel? To drop in to another time in a place and experience it with all your senses?
Well, I believe I [00:05:00] had such an experience I came to Montana in 1979 to work, to work at the Bigfork Summer Playhouse as an actor, and it was a fabulous experience. And at the end of that summer, one of the actors told me that he was going into Kalispell to audition for a movie they were shooting, and asked if I wanted to go.
It turned out that a number of the extras in the movie were teachers or students, and it was September, and they had to go back. So they took one look at us and sent us right to costumes. I knew immediately this was gonna be a really special experience because they dressed us to the underwear I put on bloomers, long [00:06:00] black cotton socks, leather tie-up boots, long woolen skirt, and a cummerbund, and a rough linen shirt, and a woolen shawl, and a babushka.
They took a picture of me, and I had to put it up on a locker because I had to dress exactly like that every day
So it turns out this movie was Heaven’s Gate. Now, you might have heard that it was a huge disaster, but at the time, Michael Cimino was the golden boy of Hollywood. He had won five Oscars for The Deer Hunter, and this story was a true account of something that happened in Wyoming called the Johnson County Wars, where in the late 1800s when the government had opened up [00:07:00] the West to homesteading, a wave of immigrants came out, and the local cattle barons were not happy.
So they hired mercenaries to scare them off by killing them And the story is how the immigrants fought back. So most of the movie had been shot, but we were there to be in the big battle scenes. Now, in case you think that being an extra in a major motion picture is really glamorous, let me tell you what a typical day was like.
We had to be at the Quonset Hut, the costume shop, at 3:30 in the morning, and in September it was cold, and put on our costume and then trundle into these five waiting school buses, old school buses, and then [00:08:00] head up the North Fork. Now, at the time, the North Fork was not paved. So we were in this stiff school bus going over, going over washboard and potholes and chattering our way all the way up there.
So there was no sleeping. And when, when we got there… Oh, uh, on the way, we would stop in Polebridge to pee, but then it was another hour up to the Canadian border, and they had gotten some, uh, permit to film on the Flathead National Forest. So we were in some very remote area. We’d get there about dawn.
They’d feed us breakfast. They’d take us out to the set. They’d bring us back, feed us lunch, take us back out to the set, put us back in the buses, and drive all the way those three [00:09:00] hours back to Kalispell, getting there about 10:00 or 11:00 at night. We did this every day for three weeks And what did we do out there on the set?
Well, the set was simply a long line of buckboard wagons and about 40 horses. There were stunt people. There were some of them professionals, but most of them were local people or people that had come in from all over the country. We had nothing to do. All we could do was wait. You weren’t allowed to bring anything.
Anything you brought along had to stay on the bus because God forbid you were wearing a watch when they shot this thing. So nothing. Oh, we could bring sunglasses. That was it, because it was treeless and hot. So here we were in these woolen clothes, trading off the shade of the wagon we had to stay by or climbing [00:10:00] underneath it because every once in a while, an assistant director would come by with a megaphone and say, ”
Linda Grinde: Lose the sunglasses.”
Karna Sundby: We’d have to take them off and tuck them somewhere, get up into our buckboard, and they’d slowly take us out on this roundabout trip just so the, the cameraman knew where we were going and bring us back to wait. You see, in the strata of the movie business, an extra sits at the bottom rung. We’re not even considered people.
They call us atmosphere
So, um, I, I knew there were big stars in this movie, but we didn’t get to see those people, except one day a storm blew in and we had to quit early, and we all hung out at the Outlaw Inn, and I got to meet Kris Kristofferson. [00:11:00] I actually got my picture taken with him, and that Christmas I sent it out as a personal card.
Merry Christmas from Kris and me. Except I spelled his name wrong. Well, the day finally arrived, the big day of the battle. We’d been waiting for this. We were all so excited and, and tense. They issued us rifles, a- authentic replicas of the rifles of the period, and sh- taught us how to shoot them. It was blanks, but they’re still dangerous.
And they pulled some of the extras out to take them to makeup and gave them horrible injuries. Like, one guy had a slash across his face. His nose was almost falling off. Another guy had a broken leg with the bone sticking out, two bones sticking out his leg. It was great at lunchtime to watch these guys playing Frisbee.
Make [00:12:00] believe. Well, after lunch, we were all set. Everyone was standing up in their wagon. We had our rifles, and finally we heard it. The assistant director said, “Okay, camera’s rolling. Action.” And we took off, as my father would say, like the hammers of hell. Those wagons flew like we’d never gone that fast before.
And we went over this little bridge rattling, trying to keep from falling out, firing our guns and screaming and all that pent-up immigrant mania. Just ch- we’re acting our asses off, man. Just trying to keep from dying The whole thing lasted about five minutes. But this time, instead of going around to the right, we went into the woods on the left side, a place we’d never been before, and that’s when it happened.[00:13:00]
It was like this silence settled all over everything. No one was talking, and then I could hear the creak of the wooden wagons. We were about four or five deep and, and I could hear the wheels, the metal wheels hitting the rocks underneath us. And, and I could smell horse sweat and leather and, and gun smoke in the air.
And I was holding my rifle and felt the weight of it against me, and the sweat running down my neck, and I could taste the salt and the dirt on my face. And I looked around, and I saw my friends standing up in the back of these wagons, and suddenly I, I wasn’t in a movie anymore. I wasn’t even in the 20th century.
All that make-believe fell away. I was a pioneer woman fighting for [00:14:00] survival in this terrifying and beautiful wild place I…
I’ve held onto that moment through all these years. And even today, when I ride along I-90, I’ll look out at the foothills and I’ll wonder, what would it be like to cover that vast expanse in a wagon?
Marc Moss: Thanks, Linda. Linda Grinde loves adventures and theater in equal measure. She is an actor and director who has traveled to three continents with her productions. She once hung by her knees on a trapeze 30 feet in the air and flew into the arms of a burly acrobat. But that’s another story. To see the [00:15:00] snapshot of Linda with Kris Kristofferson, visit tellussomething.org.
In our next story, one place holds the key to Nora Mahmoud’s life work, her greatest love story, and her family’s future. Follow Nora on a journey that began with a 12-year-old girl’s trip to the Library of Alexandria. From discovering a lifelong passion for teaching to a first date over Shakespeare, discover how a single sacred space can shape who we are across generations.
Nora calls her story A Place Kept Finding Me. Thanks for listening.
Noura Mahmoud: I was a 12-year-old child standing on a school trip to the Library of Alexandria. The air felt different, silent, weighty, almost sacred. The air carried the smell of familiar scents, of old books, ink, papers, stories, [00:16:00] stories waiting to be discovered, stories that I would later come to love.
My classmates were busy looking around the buildings, but I was completely focused on something different. It was our history teacher.
She spoke with great passion about the history of the library, that legendary place that gathered all the knowledge of the ancient world.
At the time, I was convinced at that age that my teacher would probably know more than Google. Yeah? Yeah.
She didn’t just teach history, she made it come alive And in that [00:17:00] day, inside one of the most powerful symbols of knowledge in ancient world, I had a dream, a dream to become a teacher like her
That day, I wasn’t just a normal girl in a normal school trip. I was a girl witnessing the beginning of her dream, a dream she didn’t yet understand I thought this was the end of my story with the library, but it wasn’t. Years later, I became the teacher I had imagined to be that day. That school trip was a turning point in my life When I started teaching, I realized that teaching wasn’t about teaching vocabulary, [00:18:00] teaching grammar, or even test scores.
It was about opening new doors and exploring new worlds. One day after the lesson, a student called Lily raised her hand and asked a question, “Can one person change the life of someone?” I looked at her and answered, “Well, Lily One person, one conversation, one teacher, one place can change the life of someone.
And of course, I was talking about myself
It still amazes me how one place can hold so [00:19:00] many beginnings, so many meanings. I started teaching literature, drama, novel, poetry. My students started exploring different worlds, different cultures, different ideas Some places we go to while others stay with us
And when the moment come to meet someone special, it wasn’t even my choice of place. It was his, my husband’s choice. Out of all the cafes, restaurants, places in Alexandria, he chose the library
Later, I asked him, [00:20:00] “Why did you choose the library to meet?” He answered, “Well, I know it meant a lot to you This kind of answer tells us who is Ahmed really. He is very thoughtful. He’s that kind of a person that pays attention to very small details that really matter. We started talking, but I remember well the day we met.
I arrived a little bit earlier than him. I tried to look calm, although I was a little bit nervous. Yeah. Then he showed up in his white shirt, smile on his face, carrying a book in his hand. He said hi, and I said, “Hi, what’s the [00:21:00] book in your hand?” He said, “A Shakespeare’s Twelve Nights.”
The guy was smart
Yeah, this means a lot to me. Yeah. We started talking, minutes turn it into hours, hours into stories. We talked about people who shaped our lives, ideas shaped our lives. I remember later asking him, and I was courageous enough to do so, “How much do you care?” He said 75%.
I said, “Oh, really?” I care [00:22:00] 85%.
A friendship turned into love, and love into marriage. We got married in six months, and I think, thinking back, that Ahmed didn’t give the exact percentage
Library of Alexandria is no longer part of my past. It’s still part of my present. I take my children. Hopefully, they get a glimpse of what inspired me once there, and every time we go, something beautiful happens. My daughter, Noor, [00:23:00] is a very smart girl. Every time she goes to the library, she gets more and more interested in history and geography.
One time on a display, she stopped and asked, “Well, Mom, how do we know a lot of, a lot about the civilizations that lived thousands and thousands of years ago?” I smiled and looked at her and answered, “Yeah, they kept asking questions like what you’re doing now.” She looked around and said, “Then I will keep asking questions.”
She’s 18 years old now. She’s studying history at her final year at high school and she is a volunteer at a [00:24:00] program running within the walls of the library My son Hazem has a different kind of interest. He is interested in maps, books, countries. Once he asked me, “Do children in other countries go to school like I do?
Do they have dreams like mine?” I remember we spent like an hour talking and discussing about other children End
When he went back home, he drew a picture of a chess board that was on the cover of the book he saw at the library. I asked him about this drawing. He said, “Well, [00:25:00] I wish I can find books that tell me how great players think.” I’m pretty sure that we didn’t share the same interests, me and my children, but we shared the desire to learn and to discover.
From a school trip to a love story to motherhood, it’s amazing how a place can have so many beginnings and so many stories. Some places we go to, while others stay with us. Thank you so much.
Marc Moss: Thanks, Nora. Nora Mahmoud is an experienced English language teacher and certified trainer from Egypt with over 18 years of experience in secondary education and teacher professional development. She is a certified trainer with the Professional [00:26:00] Academy for Teachers, the British Council, and the American University in Cairo, and has contributed to large-scale programs such as NTTP, TEA, and Connect.
Throughout her career, she has been recognized for her excellence in education, including being ranked among top teachers in a UNESCO innovation competition and receiving the Ideal Teacher Award at the secondary level. She is particularly interested in integrating technology and artificial intelligence into education, as reflected in her project, My Smart Blog Speaks a Global Language.
She values collaboration, lifelong learning, and building supportive learning communities, and is excited to join international programs to exchange experiences and expand her impact in education. To see photos of Nora and her family at the Library of Alexandria, visit tellussomething.org. Coming up after the break
Madeline: I was drooling all over the flashlight and [00:27:00] about 15 minutes in and I’m just crying and I’m like, please take them, take them.
Nothing’s happening. I kind of stick them in my armpit and then I go back into the barn. I finally call Andy and I say, please get down here. I don’t know what I’m doing.
Cathy Scholtens: We tore into that chocolate like a pack of wolves. You just take a bite. If you didn’t like it, you just spit it out. Just throw it on the ground.
It was insane. And we weren’t saying much, okay? It was very quiet. We just And then we heard it.
Marc Moss: Stay with us. Thanks to our partner for the 2026 season, Parkside Credit Union, a community credit union that likes to say yes. Learn more at parksidefcuonline.com. Thank you to our story sponsor, The Good Food Store, who helped us pay our storytellers.
Learn more about them at goodfoodstore.com. [00:28:00] Also, big thanks goes out to the KettleHouse for donating the beer that we enjoyed the night of the performance. Check out the KettleHouse and find retailers across Montana and select parts of the United States. Visit them at their taproom in Bonner, Montana, or learn more at kettlehouse.com.
You are listening to the Tell Us Something podcast, where people share their true stories around a theme live, in person, and without notes. I’m Mark Moss. Storytellers in this episode shared their stories in front of a full house on June 16th, 2026 at Bonner Park Bandshell in Missoula, Montana. Opening the second half of this episode of the Tell Us Something podcast, Madeleine M.
loses her 29-year-old partner, leaving her lost in grief and overwhelmed by the heavy logistics of loss. An unexpected phone call from a near stranger leads her to a small Utah town, where a community embraces her. Listen to Madeleine’s story about grief, grace, and finding a way [00:29:00] forward. She calls her story Dawn and Dusk.
Thanks for listening.
Madeline: It’s nice to see everyone. To start off right into the meat of it, uh, in 2020, at the beginning of the global pandemic, the world lost Wade. He was 29. He had just been enrolled in nursing school. Um- And one day he was gone. And I, I lost him too. We had been dating for almost a year, and our relationship was kind of in that beautiful incubator in the honeymoon period before things start to get real.
And when he disappeared, myself, probably 26 years old, was quickly inoculated into the world of grief. And I can imagine that many of you in the audience understand the emotional weight of what it’s like to lose someone, and [00:30:00] perhaps theoretically, I, I understood that too, but the thing that I was not prepared for was, were the logistics.
The trying to open his phone to inform his employer that he had passed away, the shuttle to pick up his parents, the lack of a will, the many pieces and parts that it takes to put together someone’s life and how they’d like to be remembered. Not to mention, in the beginning of a pandemic, when it’s hard to gather and to celebrate, how do we remember the people that we loved and lost?
I still, I still don’t know. But what I do know is that I was living in Bluff, Utah. Anyone been to Bluff? Yeah. Town of 250 people in the southeastern corner of the state. And the day after Wade passed, I got a phone call from a woman who lived in another nearby town called Boulder. Her name is Blake. She still lives there, and she said, “I, I don’t know what’s going on, but I just get this [00:31:00] sense that something’s not right with you.”
Mind you, I had met Blake one time. We barely knew each other. Um, and there was no social media post. There was no obituary. There was no way for her to have known that this person had passed away. And she said, “When you’re ready, you should really come to Boulder. It’s a beautiful place to grieve.” And for those of you who haven’t been to Bluff or Boulder, they’re towns of comparable sizes in the southeastern and south-central corners of the state.
They’re on the doorsteps of national monuments, one on Bears Ears and one on Grand Staircase-Escalante. And between the two of them, they are beautiful places to grieve. They’ve hold generations, centuries of memory for many people. And I will say right now that it was not the beauty of Boulder Town that caught me when I finally had gathered enough of my affairs to make it down there.
It was the people, and I [00:32:00] think that a lot of small towns are like that, Missoula included. They’re beautiful, but it’s the people that make them special. Boulder opened a hotel room for me for two months in the middle of the pandemic, and for the first 40 days or so of my grief, I didn’t make a single meal.
People who didn’t know me dropped off food, invited me to their table, invited me on hikes. I talked to other people who had lost loved ones, and the most important thing that the town gave me was something to do. I didn’t know at the time how to put one foot after the other, but there were people in that place who made sure that I was always occupied, and I didn’t understand at the time how much of a gift that was.
There was one person in particular in that time named Andy. Andy still thankfully is a close friend, and he, uh, is a manager on an operation in [00:33:00] Boulder and has something like, I don’t even know, team, at the time, maybe 300 goats, 20 or so sheep, and a beautiful family, two young girls, a wife named Andrea.
And Andy in particular wanted to make sure that I didn’t spend a single dinner alone. And it was one night after dinner that he very kindly enticed me to s- take shifts with him and his girls that night in the barn because they were expecting a slew of overnight lamb births. And for anyone educated in that world, timing and practicality can be unpredictable.
It was by that time probably on the cusp of winter. I don’t know. It was kind of a plateau, maybe October, maybe November, but it was cold. And I slept out, didn’t really think too much about what I was wearing, and woke up at about 3:00 [00:34:00] AM, um, to go check on the sheep and see if there were any lambs, and at that moment, there were two, one white, one black, completely still and abandoned in a thin layer of snow.
And remember, it’s me six months into grieving, and I don’t even have my shoes on, let alone my… a jacket. So it’s me outside, a flashlight on these two lambs, and I’m like, “Ooh, damn.” I see the mom over in the other corner completely backed up. I don’t have my cell phone. I don’t have anything I need, so I kind of just, like, pick the lambs up, and I put the flashlight in my mouth, and then I kind of, like, approach the mom hoping that she’ll take these two animals in.
Anyone who’s ever worked with livestock knows that cornering a mom is probably not the best thing to do in an emergency situation, but team, I was [00:35:00] desperate. I wanted this mom to take these lambs in more than anything. And so I cornered her, and then I cornered her again, and I was tipping them and I was trying to get them to make sound, and I really just couldn’t.
I was drooling all over the flashlight. And about 15 minutes in and I’m just crying, and I’m like, “Please, take them. Take them.” Nothing’s happening. I- I kinda stick them in my armpit, and then I go back into the barn. I finally call Andy, and I pl- say, “Please, like, get down here. I, I don’t know what I’m doing.”
And Andy, in about five minutes, is down there, grabs the lambs, tips them back one time, and they go baa. And just, like, the perfect way that they’re supposed to, the mom’s instincts immediately… Yeah. They’re reunited. It’s almost like he does this for a living, you know? And I’m so grateful. I’m so grateful, and I haven’t stopped crying.
It’s kind of like a combination of snot and [00:36:00] tears at this point. But the thing that I felt so grateful for was the sense of relief that Andy gave me in that rescue, in that companionship, in that occupation, in that meaningfulness. We named those lambs Dawn and Dusk, one for white, one for black, for that period of the morning in which they were born.
And reuniting them with their mother gave me the opportunity to fight for the first time in a while for life. Maybe not yet my own, but something, someone else’s. And that is the day that I decided to step back into my life. Thanks, everyone.
Marc Moss: Thanks, Madeleine. Madeleine is a storyteller, media producer, and nonprofit communications strategist based in Missoula. As director [00:37:00] of storytelling at Resource Rural, she works with communities across the country to document how people are shaping change in the places they call home. Colorado-raised, Utah-forged, and Montana-polished, Madeleine has spent much of her career helping rural communities tell their own stories and challenge assumptions about rural America.
When she’s not working, you’ll likely find her riding gravel roads or gabbing with the gals. Closing out this episode of the Tell Us Something podcast, rebellious 15-year-old Kathy Scholtens is desperate to escape a chaotic home life, landing her at an all-girls Catholic boarding school run by an eclectic group of nuns.
Discover how these stubborn, funny, and compassionate women showed Kathy what it truly means to be home in a story she calls Lesson Learned. Thanks for listening.
Cathy Scholtens: Home. I didn’t want a home. Home meant chaos [00:38:00] and strife and trouble. I wanted an escape from home. A friend said, “Hey, there’s this all-girls Catholic boarding school right down the road from where you live.”
And I’m like, “Good. I’m going.” I didn’t know anything about Catholics, and I surely didn’t know anything about nuns. But there I was. The nuns wore these burgundy purple habits that were just folds and folds of, of material and, and they had these white veils that all you could see was the very oval of their faces, and they were a little scary.
They also all wore very sensible shoes These women were an eclectic bunch. They came from all over the world, and they were patient, and intelligent, and cranky- … [00:39:00] and compassionate, and stubborn, and some of them were really, really funny. Now me, I’m a 15-year-old full of false bravado, questionable behaviors, and I don’t give a shit attitude.
Those nuns saw right through me When I was in 10th grade, my best friend was Betty Martinez. Now, you could count on Betty for trouble and mischief any day of the week, and that’s probably why I loved her so much. One Sunday, we’re lounging around the dorm, and she comes running up, and she’s got the biggest box of chocolate.
I mean, it’s huge. And she goes, “Look what the nuns were gonna throw out, you guys.” And we’re like, “What?” She goes, “They were underneath all the newspapers. They were gonna throw them out. Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.” And we take off, and where we’re going [00:40:00] is the book closet in the high school because it was our little hideaway, our little gonna do something wrong, go there.
So we haul ass down there. We go in, and there’s a bare bulb on the ceiling on a long string. Smells like mildew, and old textbooks, and a little bit of mimeograph paper, and, and it’s dirty. And we sit down, and there’s that box of chocolate. Now, if any of you guys have ever been handed a box of chocolate and been able to pick something, you know that little exploratory poke you do.
Like you, like you just kinda, like do a little… In case it’s, like nugget or something, and you really don’t want it. There was none of that. We tore into that chocolate like a pack of wolves. You just take a bite. If you didn’t like it, you just spit it out. [00:41:00] Just threw it on the ground. It was insane, and we weren’t saying much, okay?
It was very quiet. We’re just… And then we heard it.
What was that? That was rosary beads knocking against that habit. And we had all learned very quickly that each nun had a different sound. Their stride determined what those wooden beads sounded like, and that was Mother Anne Claire, the principal of the high school. Stood about this tall. Well, Betty, stupidly, reaches up and turns out the light.
Dumb. And, uh, so Mother Anne Claire notices that and opens the door. Sunlight pours in. We have chocolate all over our faces- … caramel in our [00:42:00] teeth, vanilla cream and marshmallow all over our hands, and we just look up, and she says, “Girls.” We’re like, “Mother.” She’s like, “Where’d you get the chocolate?” And like good, loyal friends anywhere, all of us went-
Betty. That came as no surprise to her. And, uh, she looked at Betty, and Betty started trying to explain. “Mother, Mother, the nuns, it was in the newspaper, and they were gonna throw it out.” And she did the quintessential nun stop-talking hand. And Betty stopped talking. And she looked at all of us, and she goes, “Any of you believe that?”
And we had to look down in shame. And she said, “You know,” she looked around that little, lovely little room, and she said, “The measure of how wrong something is can be determined [00:43:00] by at what lengths you’ll go to hide it.” Ugh. “I want a 500-word essay from each one of you on my desk in the morning. You can pick.
Lying, stealing, complicity, or how about gluttony?”
Lesson learned: gluttony When I was a junior, I had decided that God was calling me, me, to be a nun. Now, in retrospect, obviously it didn’t happen, thank God. Uh, but in retrospect, it was just some pre-lesbian tension happening. Um, I didn’t, I didn’t really get the, you know, I knew I wanted to be around women-
uh, but I had, the details hadn’t quite come clear, ‘kay? But the nuns were very excited about this and, and, uh- … Mother Dorothy, who was this adorable 80-year-old [00:44:00] English nun, decided that what I needed to do was learn more about the foundress of the Religious of the Assumption, which was the order. And so once a week, we would grab little Montessori chairs and take them out into the lawn, and she would sit next to me, and she would read me the story of Mother Marie Eugene.
Like, I didn’t really care. But it was so nice to be out there, and it was lovely, and it was idyllic, and it was perfect. Until Taffy. Now, Taffy was the oldest convent dog, and dog is pushing it, okay? Dog is more like floor mat. ‘Cause what Taffy did was lay splayed, all four legs out on the cool terrazzo of the chapel, never moving, and people would actually walk by and reach down and see if it was breathing.[00:45:00]
But not today. Today, Taffy was breathing because Taffy was with Theodora. Theodora, Theodora was the newest dog at the convent, and she was dragging Taffy by his penis backwards- … because they were in copulation You guys, I’m in 11th grade. I’m like, “Oh, God. Oh, God. Please don’t look up. Please, Mother Dorothy, just keep reading.
Don’t look up, don’t look up, don’t look up.” Of course she looks up, and she says, “Oh, Taffy, I didn’t know you had it in you. Bangers, Taffy. Absolute bangers, my boy.” I’m looking at her like, “What?” And she said, “Kathy, religious life, it’s not all prayer and contemplation. Our job is [00:46:00] to- love all of God’s creation.
And God’s creation isn’t always perfect. It’s messy and muddled, and sometimes very embarrassing. And I hope that you spend your whole life enjoying and celebrating God’s creation. That’s your job. Lesson learned. 11 puppies later, God’s creation When I was a senior, I asked if I could do a religious retreat over the Christmas holiday.
So instead of going home, I would stay and, and be mentored and pray and hoogie boogie woogie. Um, but I was the only one that asked to do it, and so I was gonna be alone in a 40-man dorm. And there was a little group of more progressive nuns [00:47:00] who had a little community on campus, and they said, “Why don’t you come and stay with us?
You know, it’ll be fine.” So they made me a little bed next to French doors with glass, and they s- You know, it was lovely. I was thrilled. And I went to bed that first night with my little pillow and my little blanket, and every nun came by and bid me good night, and they went upstairs to their rooms The temperature dropped that night below 50.
This is Miami, Florida. When it gets below 50, it’s freezing, okay? I went to bed with one pillow and one blanket. I woke up with one pillow and eight blankets on top of me
Every nun had woken up at some time during the night, realized it was cold, thought about me, and took their own blanket down and put it on top of me. [00:48:00] That, you guys, is fierce love by women in sensible shoes. Lesson learned, finally home. Thank you
Marc Moss: Thanks, Cathy. Cathy Scholtens is a retired pediatric nurse, veteran, and professional noticer of weird little things. She talks to strangers, loves the color yellow, and occasionally follows curiosity down questionable paths. She believes life is best lived with laughter, kindness, and a willingness to look slightly ridiculous.
She remains completely unsupervised. You’ve been listening to the Tell Us Something podcast. Tune in next week to hear the concluding stories from the Power of Place Tell Us Something live storytelling event.
Karna Sundby: So we would pick up the nursing students at 5:30 in the morning, [00:49:00] and they would run to the car with these eager smiles and bright eyes, just so grateful to have a safe ride to their classes and clinicals that started at 6:00 AM.
Greg Munro: I went to that window and looked out and was astounded because there was a whole farm out there just like I had seen on TV.
Adyasha Nayak: My grandparents’ house, a pretty old house that my grandfather built. It’s next to a pond. And every morning, I would hear the neighborhood children jumping into the pond, splashing, having fun, their shouts.
Mandy Moonbird: We had bedbugs always and dirty needles hidden in the mattresses and murders and overdoses, and a lot of people said there was a ghost.
Marc Moss: Listen for those stories at tellussomething.org or wherever you get your podcasts. Thank you to our media sponsors MissoulaEvents.net, Mike’s Print and Copy, Missoula Broadcasting Company, including the family of ESPN Radio, [00:50:00] The Trail 103.3, Jack FM, and Missoula’s source for modern hits, U 104.5.
And thanks to our in-kind sponsors, Float Missoula and Joyce of Tile. Thanks to Cash for Junkers who provided the music for the podcast. The song is called Buzzin’ and can be found on their album, which you can stream at cashforjunkersband.com.