Marc Moss: [00:00:00] Welcome to the Tell Us Something podcast. I’m Mark Moss, your host, founder, and executive director of Tell Us Something. The next tell us something event is October 7th. Theme is Welcome the Wild Side. You can learn about how to pitch your story and get tickets@tellussomething.org this week on the podcast.

Nita Maddox: He walks up and he’s got this completely unredeemable action adventure movie, and I pull up his account and it’s just bad movie choices and $50 in late fees, and he tries to introduce himself again, and I was like. Listen buddy. You have terrible taste in movies. You owe $50, you’re gonna need to pay us $20 of those late fees.

Take your crappy movie and kick rocks.

Joyce Gibbs: And so I run around to the back where the, where the nesting area is while she’s eating her food. And I open up the cage or open up the back of the hutch [00:01:00] and there they are. Four furloughs eyeballs closed. Squirmy little. Baby rabbits and they’re squirmy. So much so that one of them falls out of the back of the hutch and lands in the snow and it starts screaming and I

Amanda Taylor: was in it.

So by in it, I mean that by age 16 I had signed a purity contract with God. Really it, it was just a piece of paper that some guy in a church printed, but to me it was from God and I was signing it for him. Plus I took it very seriously and I wore a purity Ring

Marc Moss: three storytellers share their true personal story on the theme.

Be careful what you wish for. Their stories were recorded Live in person on April 4th, 2025 at the Volite [00:02:00] Theater in Butte, Montana. We gathered then on the traditional and unseated lands of the Salish Kni and ponder and Assab peoples whose ancestors have cared for and been stewards of this land for countless generations.

We recognize the deep history, culture, and resilience of the indigenous peoples who lived here long before European settlers arrived. These tribes have been integral to the land, water, and ecosystem of the region, sustaining it through generations of careful stewardship. As we honor their enduring presence, we must also acknowledge the injustices that have been done to these communities.

Displacement. Broken treaties and the ongoing impacts of colonization, including damage done to the earth. This acknowledgement is a reminder of our responsibility to honor and support indigenous communities. One way that we can do this is to support organizations like the Butte Native Wellness Center, the North American Indian Alliance, and get cultural and historical insights at places [00:03:00] like the Butte Cultural Heritage Center.

Remember this, tell us something. Stories sometimes have adult themes. Storytellers sometimes use adult language. Please take care of yourselves. Our first story comes to us from Nita Maddox. A determined single mom navigates the challenges of working four jobs and trying to buy her dream business, a local video store Amidst this chaotic life, a quirky encounter with an unexpected suitor leads to a surprising turn of events.

Just as everything seems to fall into place, a sudden life altering incident challenges her newfound stability and reshapes her entire world. Nita calls her story perfect Blue House. Thanks for listening.

Nita Maddox: So this is also a coming out story. No, it’s not, but maybe it will be. When I was [00:04:00] 25, my daughter was two, and there were two things that we did almost every day.

One was we walked from our little studio apartment on Hickory, down Beckwith up to the University of Montana where she went to daycare and I took classes, and along the way it’s. Started with like low income neighborhood into more middle of the road, and then the big fancy mansions around the university.

And midway there, there was a perfect blue Victorian house, big green lawn, white picket fence, oak tree with a swing. And somewhere along the way we started calling it our house and imagining the life we would lead in it. That seemed so far away from the little studio apartment we were living in. And then on the way home, we would always stop at the Crystal Video store and I actually recognize there might be people in the audience who have no idea what a video store is and when they’re done.

Right. They are amazing places and the [00:05:00] Crystal was one of the best of them. Everybody who worked. There was a writer or a musician or a artist and they knew everything about, um, Peter Green away’s use of Tableau, vivant or S’s use of lone wolf, and there was all these like fabulous shelves just full of other worlds, worlds.

That just expanded what I could imagine in my sometimes feeling a little bit claustrophobic life at that point, seven years later. My daughter is nine. There’s now a 6-year-old brother. I’ve spent two years working in a corporate environment that just didn’t really suit me. We move back to Missoula and I’m working four jobs to make ends meet and try not to touch into my savings.

But one of those jobs is I’m working at the Crystal video store now and the owner. Would very much like to sell the crystal video store and ask me if I wanna buy it. And [00:06:00] so I was trying to put together the resources to buy the video store. Now, one evening I’m working there and this guy comes in and I’ve known him for a while.

And I found him kind of interesting, which was intriguing ’cause he wasn’t really my type. My type was like dark brooding musician and he was kind of tall and blonde, cleft chin, sort of the captain of the football team archetype. And he had met me probably five times prior to that and he never seemed to remember me.

So I kind of was like, I don’t know what I think about this guy. And he walks up and he’s got this completely unredeemable action adventure movie, and I pull up his account and it’s just bad movie choices and $50 in late fees. And he tries to introduce himself again. And I was like. Listen buddy. You have terrible taste in movies.

You owe $50. You’re gonna need to pay us $20 of those late fees. Take your crappy [00:07:00] movie and kick rocks. And that was it. He tried to court me for months. And I was a single mom trying to buy a business, working four jobs, and I had no time for this character. But then he kind of got me and he was like, listen, I just bought this house.

Come over. I’ll make you dinner. You can bring any movie you want. And I show up at the address at the perfect blue Victorian with the green lawn and the white picket fence. And the tree with the swing. And I notice, oh, this is a little wink from fate here, huh? Okay. So we embarked on about three months of a very romantic adventure, and he was surprisingly great about dating a single mom who was working a lot and trying to buy a business.

And then the day came where I signed the papers and put down a ton of money, and I now owned this business that I had really wanted to have, and my daughter and son and [00:08:00] I were crossing the street on Higgins in Missoula to go get ice cream at the Big Dipper to celebrate. And we were run over by a truck in the intersection, and I’m never gonna forget the feeling of grabbing for my daughter’s jacket.

And she was just gone. I don’t, I, my mind couldn’t even comprehend where had she gone. And I looked down and my 6-year-old, his head was right by the bumper of the truck, and I grabbed him and threw him over my head to the sidewalk, just as I noticed this crushing feeling as the tire rolled across my foot.

My daughter spent three months in the hospital and the most of that next year in a wheelchair. She had seven different surgeries, one to reconstruct her face, and during that early phase, that steep uphill climb about learning how to run a business, I was pretty much every day in the hospital and I had just bought a video store right [00:09:00] at the beginning of Netflix being a thing.

So when we kind of normalize when she comes out of the hospital, there’s just so much stress and the only thing I can really remove from the stress is to break up with the guy and he says, you know what? You should just move in with me. That’s gonna make things easier. Which seemed like a good idea other than the fact that we’d only been dating for about six months, but we move into the perfect blue Victorian.

So we’re in our house and I own the business. I’ve always wanted to own and things are normalizing a little bit, but I’m also noticing that I’m really tired and kind of run down. Probably just stress. So I go in for a checkup and then the day before my 33rd birthday, I took my daughter to what was going to be her last doctor’s appointment in this chapter of her life was going to end.

We were gonna schedule the very last surgery. It was really disappointing ’cause they. Some things weren’t [00:10:00] healing correctly and she was gonna need another couple of surgeries and she was pretty bummed. Said, listen, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment, you can come like a follow up appointment, you can come with me to that and then we’ll go do something fun.

So she came with me and I remember. Being in the waiting room and we had the funny little pillow in the exam room and she was chasing me around in her wheelchair, hitting me with this pillow. We were laughing and was like, oh, this is, this is so fun. And then the doctor came in and said that I was gonna have to have another series of tests because it looked like I had non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, which I did.

And that whole dream that out of nowhere I had manifested. Began to dissolve and I sold the business eventually so it wouldn’t get caught up in the medical bankruptcy, and it was a lot of pressure on the relationship and it ended and we moved out of the perfect blue Victorian. Now this story might sound like it’s a tragic story, but actually in the end, [00:11:00] which there isn’t an ending yet, it didn’t end.

All those people are still alive, and to be honest. I was getting some feedback about the story and somebody said, wow, it was so interesting. You were just telling a story and then all of a sudden you get hit by a truck. But that’s the way it works. That’s how trauma works. One day you’re leading one life, and the next that life is never there again.

You’re leading a completely different life. It was this. Rapid reset where we were in this very sweet, normal life and then this giant heroine’s journey for both my daughter and I started, and neither of us has led anything close to a normal life. We have led a very wild creative, yes, full of some more trauma.

Yes, the trauma from that still follows us, but a amazing resilience. C and an incredible lust for life was found in that moment. So that’s the story I’m telling and [00:12:00] that’s the story I’m sticking with.

Marc Moss: Thanks Nita. Nita Maddox is a multi-generational Montanan, born and raised in Whitefish. She has a passion for adventure, even if it is finding something exciting in the produce area at the grocery store. Nita is here on this planet to be seriously playful on the journey. Next up is Joyce Gibbs. As a third grader in Montana, Joyce convinces her parents to get pet rabbits only to discover.

Their true intention is to breed them for food. Despite an early mishap with the first litter, she learns the harsh realities of a farm life. This unique upbringing shapes her understanding of where food comes from, leading to a memorable, albeit somewhat grizzly childhood experience. Joyce calls her story, stew and Pop.

Thanks for listening.[00:13:00]

Joyce Gibbs: Third grade Clinton, Montana, 16 miles east of Missoula. You know, in third grade when you know, there’s, you get the pet, you get the, we had a pet rabbit, so in the back of the classroom is Peter Peter’s in his little cage, and it’s our job to water him and feed him and, and, uh, clean out his cage every once in a while.

That was super fun. And my friend Dina in third grade, I went over to her house one day and she had like 20 pet rabbits and I was like, oh, you can do this at home too. And they had chickens and goats probably, and pigs, you know. But um. [00:14:00] And so I go home and I’m like, mom, dad, I think I want a pet rabbit. And my dad says, well, okay, actually you can have a pet rabbit.

You can have two pet rabbits. We’re gonna get a male one and a female one. And we’re gonna breed them and we’re going to eat. They’re young. I’m like, yep. Uh. Which is fine, you know, uh, my dad was a hunter, so, um, I wasn’t able to like, help him cut up the meat in third grade, but we definitely were like wrapping in butcher paper and I knew where my meat came from and, and, uh, I was like.

Yeah, that sounds like a good thing. I can do that. So, uh, we [00:15:00] go to Dina’s house. Dina’s dad has a super cool hutch that he made that has three different compartments and, uh, it stands off the ground and for the critters, you know, might eat the rabbits. But, um. Each compartment has a nesting area in the back, and then a front door and a back door.

And then, uh, they have these side doors so you can open up those side doors so the rabbits can commingle. And so, uh, we get the hutch and we go to the store and we get, um, these rabbits, uh, one’s white and one’s black. And, and they were short hair and you know, they’re little rabbit size. We got a book on how to raise rabbits, abbot, and we take ’em home.

And we put ’em each in their separate compartments. [00:16:00] And then about a week later we opened up those doors so they could commingle. And they, uh, a couple weeks later, my dad’s like, I don’t really think anything’s happening here, here. Like, okay, so we go talk to Dina’s dad again ’cause he’s got, you know, 20 rabbits and, um.

And he says, oh yeah, those Dina’s dad says, oh yeah, those, those store-bought rabbits. They don’t really sometimes do that, but I’ve got a really good breeding dough. Dough, uh, rabbits are called dough and box. So, um, I got a good breeding dough for you. And we get, we get. This rabbit, she’s got long hair and lop [00:17:00] ears, which are the ones that fall down and she’s this big and um.

We’re, we’re gonna call her Stella. I forgot to mention, um, my dad said, you know, it’s probably not a good idea to. To, uh, name your rabbits, but, but just, you know, we, we should, so, so we’ll call the white one Stew and we’ll call the black one Pot. So, so then we have Stew and Pot and Stella. Thankfully it was a, you know, triplex.

So we get them all co-mingling together. Because part of the book had like drawings of how you could tell male and female, but I could never figure out actually what that drawing meant. So we just let ’em all in there and a [00:18:00] couple weeks later, my dad’s like, yeah, I think something’s happening here. So we uh, we figure out that Stella is pregnant and I’m super excited and it’s sometime in the winter.

Um, one day I’m supposed to, or every day I go out and I feed the rabbits and I, um, their water always freezes over, so I have to like take it in and thaw it out and give them fresh water in the morning. So I’m doing that and I noticed that Stella, I isn’t coming out of the nest and I finally like, bring the food out and the water out and get her to kind of come out of the nest.

And so I run around to the back where the, where the nesting area is while she’s eating her food. And I open up the cage or open up the back of the hutch, and there they are. Four furlough eyeballs, [00:19:00] closed, squirmy, little baby rabbits, and. They’re squirmy. So much so that one of them falls out of the back of the hutch and lands in the snow and it starts screaming.

And so I pick it up and I throw it back in the nest and I shut the door and I lock it. And I go to school and I say, Hey, my rabbit had babies. Hey, did you hear my rabbit had babies? And I go home. And like Stella’s hanging out in the cage and I’m like, cool, I’ll go back there and see. And I open up the hutch and I open it up and there’s no babies in the nest.

And uh, later on that night, I tell this to my parents and they say, yeah. Yeah, you’re a [00:20:00] foreigner. You picked up her baby, you ruined the nest. And she ate all her babies, like, oh yeah.

So the next time Stella got pregnant. I was really patient and after a couple weeks, those little babies came out of the nest into the front part of the hutch and they, uh, and they were super cute and ran around and, uh, I didn’t name them.

Um, and about a month later my dad said, no, it’s probably time to. To harvest those rabbits. So we had two pine trees that grew pretty close to to each other, and he put a board across and he put some,

he put some rope [00:21:00] coming down from the board and he said, bring me a bunny. And I brought the bunny in and he tied ’em up from the legs. And he held them by the ears and he cut off their heads and he put it in a five gallon bucket, and then he gutted ’em, and then he skinned them, and then he handed me this piece of meat.

And I brought it inside and I gave it to my mom and she cleaned it and she wrapped it in butcher paper and she, and we had rabbit stew and we walked the five gallon bucket up to the hill and uh, and dumped it out and left it for the coyotes.[00:22:00]

And we did this a couple times

and eventually one day as we, uh, like six months later as we were coming down the hill with another empty bucket, I said, dad, I don’t think I want any more pet rabbits. Thank you.

Marc Moss: Thanks, Joyce. Joyce Gibbs was raised in Missoula, Montana, tramping through the woods. She grew up to become an artist builder and Tyler. She is a resilient, creative, and adventurous woman. After a brief stint in New York City and then New Orleans, she bought a dilapidated railroad house on Missoula’s historic North Side and spent the next 15 years remodeling it and making it her own.

When she is not busy, building beautiful spaces. With her tile [00:23:00] installations at Joyce of Tile, you can find her riding her motorcycle, gardening and playing. Closing out this episode of the Tele Something podcast is Amanda Taylor. Amanda was raised in a devout Christian community and was committed to purity, vowing to save herself for marriage.

This conviction was challenged when she moved to Switzerland and met a captivating man. A spontaneous trip to a luxurious hot spring with him leads to a pivotal moment of self-discovery, forcing her to confront her deeply held beliefs. Amanda calls her story. Hallelujah. Thanks for listening.

Amanda Taylor: I found my reverence for Jesus Christ in the town of Powell, Wyoming.

It has about 6,000 people. Um, some diners and a lot of churches and I found my community there at church and it was my closest friends and the people that I was most connected [00:24:00] to. And so I was, uh, once I found them, I was locked into that lifestyle. And I was in it. So by, in it, I mean that by age 16 I had signed a purity contract with God.

Um, really it, it was just a piece of paper that some guy in a church printed, but to me it was from God and I was signing it for him as I took it very seriously. And I wore a purity ring, which if you don’t know what any of this means, you’re lucky. But also it, it means that you are making an agreement with God that you will not have sex until you’re married.

It was a long time and so I made that agreement and I wrote letters to my future husband [00:25:00] and I collaged this box of like romantic pictures and bible verses my meticulously folded these letters and put them in it. And I thought, you know, and when we get married I’ll. Give him this box of letters as though that’s like something someone would want.

And I also, I kept a prayer journal and I wrote in it every day. And if I forgot a day, I would ask God to forgive me for forgetting a day. And then I would also ask at the end, please forgive me for any sins that I forgot about. Just to always just making sure all my bases were covered. So that I could end up in heaven with my friends.

Um, luckily I also had an insatiable desire to travel and see the world. So when I was 20, I, um, signed an actual contract, you know, like one that actually mattered. Um. [00:26:00] To go

to be an au pair in Switzerland. And o an au pair is just a fancy word for a nanny or a person who, uh, cooks, cleans and does all the chores and childcare, uh, for a very low price. And then you, you live with the people as well. So I moved to Switzerland to become a nanny and, um. I got there and I was still like connected with church.

I brought all my church or brought all my prayer journals. I was still on track for heaven. And, uh, within the neighborhoods there, like everyone knew that there was an American living in, in a house. It was me. And whenever another neighbor had an American visiting, they would, they would all like let each other know and they’d be like, Hey, we have an American.

You should send your American down, and they can be Americans together.

And so [00:27:00] about eight months into my time there, uh, we got a call. There was an American down the street at my friend’s house, and I was like, yeah, I, I like friends, I’ll go meet him. So then I went down the street and there was this man named John, and John was 27. He was an architect who had quit his stressful New York City job and was backpacking around Europe and he had shaggy hair.

And he was funny, so, oh no. Um, I loved him instantly. You know, all he had to do was say hi, and I was sold and we had some casual conversation, and then he told me he was going to this really great hot springs in the Alps that weekend. And then he invited me and I was like, pinching myself. I was like, oh my God, is this actually happening?

Am I gonna give him the box of letters?[00:28:00]

Um,

so I, I agreed to go to the hot springs. You know, I, if he invited me to the moon, I would’ve, I would’ve gone. Um. So we made a plan. I was gonna go after work and he would already be there. So the day comes, I get my backpack on, and the some cool outfit that I thought was cool at the time, who knows what it was.

But, um, so I take the train and I get to this hot springs and um, I walk in and if you think of somewhere like Fairmont Hot Springs, you know, there’s like. Children running, running around everywhere in a questionable amount of urine in the water, and you know, probably like. Wondering if you’re gonna get warts on your feet.

Um, it was not that, it was the opposite of that. Uh, it was like nestled into a [00:29:00] mountainside and I walked in and the revolted ceilings and live jazz is happening and John is standing there drinking a glass of wine and I’m standing, I stood there my, with my backpack on. Quickly realizing that this is not a backpack kind of place.

Um, but luckily John got me upstairs quickly. We got my backpack put away, and then we came back downstairs and enjoyed a night of jazz and, uh, conversation and I just kept loving him. Um, so, uh, the next day we soaked in the water and it was the hot springs. Like all of the pools were made out of granite that was mined from the Alps.

And there was a rose petal pool that just smelled like roses. And then there was a, a rain shower that was just like this beautiful room that just, it felt like it was raining. Um, so yeah, basically like Fairmont, you know,[00:30:00]

almost, almost minus the slide, but. So we soaked in there and chatted, and I don’t know how you could not love someone after hanging out in a rose petal pool, but so we were hanging out in this pool and he mentioned an ex-girlfriend. And I said, oh, I’ve never, I’ve never had a boyfriend. And he said, what?

You’ve never had a boyfriend? I was like, no. Why would I, why would I have a boyfriend? And he was like, what is happening? And I was like, well, I’ve actually, like, I’ve never been on a date. He was like, what? I, I was 21 this time. So I suppose that was a little peculiar, but I was like, no, I have never been on a date.

I was like. I’m with the Lord. I don’t go on dates. I got this box of letters. Um, so he said, all right, [00:31:00] tonight we are going on a date. And I said, great. So we went out to this fancy restaurant that I could not have a, could not have afforded by myself for sure. And. You know, my pants had like, were like tattered at the bottom from stepping on it, stepping on them, and I could see around in the restaurant, no, everyone else had nice pants, so I just was like, Ooh, we gotta keep these under the table.

So we had this three course meal. And then dinner wraps up and we went back upstairs to our room and I, um, we were, oh, I forgot to mention earlier the, we were in the same room, but we were, there were two twin beds. Plenty of space for Jesus in between. So we have this beautiful dinner, full bellies. We go up to our separate beds and we’re just laying there in the dark and I’m just smiling.

And he goes, Amanda, I’m like, what? He says, I have a confession. [00:32:00] And I’m like, what? He said When I invited you here, my plan was to hook, hook up with you. And I was like, oh my gosh. And he was like, but now after getting to know you and talking to you, I, I can’t do that to you. You are so sweet and so innocent.

I just, I can’t do that. But I just like, you’re a very attractive woman and, and it’s been wonderful to spend time with you. And I was like, oh. Um, and with all of my strength, I said, well. We could make out just a little, just a little, little make out, never hurt anybody. Um, and then he sat up outta his bed and I pushed the twin beds together.

And the next thing you know, we’re making out. But then I remembered one, we, Jesus is still [00:33:00] here. And then two, I was like, I actually have no idea what to do after kissing. Like I don’t, I dunno what happens after that. I just know that I don’t do that. I don’t even really know the logistics of it. So I said, stop, wait.

I was like, I don’t, I don’t know what to do with, um, that. I don’t know what that is. I don’t know what it looks like. I don’t know. I’ve never looked one in the eyes. I don’t know.

And he is like, what? He said, okay, we are gonna go on a journey of discovery. I was like, cool. And he said, I’m just gonna touch you and you’re gonna say if you like it or not. And if you don’t like it, I don’t do it. And I was like, great. But what about you? He said, you’re not touching me at all. I said, great.[00:34:00]

And then, you know, we kissed a little bit. I was like, I like it. We kissed a lot. I was like, love it. And. And then there was, you know, some like, touching of all the parts, and I still struggle to say the names of ’em, but it’s fine. ’cause I’m just 38. Um,

so yeah, it was like, like, like, like, like, like and then,

and then he. Started kissing down my stomach. I was like, okay, this is too far, this is too far. So I was like, stop, stop, stop. And he said, okay. And then we went to bed. You know, it was like the, the happiest sleep of my life. And we woke up the next day and things kind of just started right where they left off.

Thank you so much. Um, and he starts kissing [00:35:00] down my stomach and I just, I didn’t, I didn’t have the heart to stop him, like I just couldn’t. And so he went and. Really all I have to say about that is hallelujah.

That is so satisfying in a church. I just wanna do it one more time. Hallelujah.

But like all good things, it had to come to an end. And I had to get back to my life. He had to continue backpacking around Europe and so we went our separate ways. I got on my train and he got on his. And, you know, I had little tears in my eyes as I sat down in my seat because now I really loved him. And, [00:36:00] uh, I had about four hours of watching the Alps go by to think about it.

And I just, I could not reconcile the fact that now I was probably going to hell. I know. And I, I was like, but I’m, I’m a good person, but I’m going to hell. And I was, and I just couldn’t, I couldn’t reconcile, reconcile that, and I couldn’t make sense of that. So by the time I got off the train, I was walking up this hill to my house.

I really, I only knew two things at that point. And it was that I was not asking for forgiveness and that all of that needed to happen again. That is all I have. Thank you so much for listening and for coming out.

Marc Moss: Thanks, Amanda. Amanda Taylor resides in Missoula with her cat, Ted. As a child, she spent summers visiting her grandparents in Alder, Montana. [00:37:00] Her earliest memory of Butte is her grandma taking her to the Butte, Walmart, and buying her Reba McIntyre poster. She no longer has the poster, but she still loves Reba McIntyre.

Thanks for listening to the Tell Us Something podcast. Remember that. The next tell us something event is October 7th. The theme is Walk on the Wild Side. You can pitch your story by calling 4 0 6 2 0 3 4 6 8 3. Learn more and get your tickets@tellussomething.org. Coming up on the next episode of the Teso podcast,

Hammy: that was the first thought I have gonorrhea.

The second immediate thought was the place I need to go to treat this gonorrhea is my first day at the health department. I thought, oh my God, this is gonna suck. I get dressed. For some reason, I decide to put on white underwear. To this day, I don’t understand why I chose white.

Katie Van Dorn: And I probably should have figured it out, but I didn’t.

And I [00:38:00] came outta surgery with my right leg, an inch and a half shorter than my left, and I was pod to say the least, and a doctor said, well, that’s the way it has to be. So it just was so, I just learned to. Used poles for hiking, and I put lifts in and outside of my shoe, and I got a lot of body work.

Karna Sundby: When I found his body, I just started screaming and screaming and ran into the house, grabbed the phone, and started dialing my parents in Illinois.

When I realized I can’t just keep screaming when they answered the phone and I can’t stop, I hung up.

Aunvada Being: I asked him if he wanted to open up and he jumped at it. He was thrilled. And that was shocking to me and also terrifying. And I’m, I wish that maybe I had been a bit more terrified because I spent about two years fielding a lot of text messages, asking if it was okay that he had sent pictures to them.

And I, I lost my [00:39:00] mind. I was sad. Three kids and a husband a second one, and I didn’t have what I was realizing I needed.

Marc Moss: Listen to the stories from the June, 2025 live event that closed out Pride Month. The theme was lost and found. Subscribe to the podcast so you’ll be sure to catch it. On the next tell us something podcast.[00:40:00] [00:41:00] [00:42:00] [00:43:00] [00:44:00] [00:45:00] [00:46:00] [00:47:00] [00:48:00] [00:49:00] [00:50:00] [00:51:00] [00:52:00]

Thanks for listening to the Tele Something podcast. Coming up on the next episode of the Tele Something podcast.[00:53:00]

Listen to the stories from our return to Butte America in April of 2025. On the next episode of the Tell Us Something podcast, subscribe to the podcast so you’ll be sure to catch these [00:54:00] stories. On the next tell us something podcast. Remember that. The next tell us something event is October 7th. The theme is Walk on the Wild Side.

You can pitch your story by calling 4 0 6. 2 0 3 4 6 8 3. Learn more and get your tickets@tellussomething.org.

Marc Moss

Tickets are on sale for the next live in person Tell Us Something event. The theme is “Going Home”. In collaboration with Missoula Pride, Tell Us Something is excited to bring you this evening of true, personal stories featuring many voices from the LBGTQ+ community. Learn more and get your tickets at Tell Us something.org.

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. Sometimes adventure is chosen. Sometimes it’s thrust upon you. In this episode of the Tell Us Something podcast, we delve into the journeys of four remarkable people.

What happens when the things we hold dear start to crumble?  Join us as our first storyteller faces a heartbreaking choice: let go of her family legacy, or fight for a piece of the past while making a discovery about nonperminance in herself. And facing loss isn’t just about places, our next storyteller defies death itself, a therapist grapples with a hidden truth while our final storyteller navigates an unlikely love friendship running out on the trails.

Kathleen Kennedy

I was simultaneously indignant and sympathetic, but I also had this feeling like I would love for squatters to come there and light a fire and burn it down like, problem solved.

Susan Waters

And the voice said, do you want to stay or do you want to go? And without even thinking about it, I said, if I still have work I need to do here, I want to stay. And the voice said, okay.

Annabelle Winnie

I do wonder if what we think of as traits for neurodivergent, if they’re really adaptations, is there ways that the body adapts, behaviors adapt, and even the brain itself adapts to a world that often feels too bright, too loud. It’s just too much.

Amanda Taylor

We were texting each other every day. Morning. Tonight we call them play by plays, which I also loved because it made me feel sporty, like, yeah, we’re sending play by plays.”

Marc Moss

We acknowledge that we are gathered on the traditional lands of the Salish, Ponderay and Kalispell peoples who have stewarded this land throughout the generations. As spring unfolded, vibrant colors and rejuvenates the Earth, we recognize the interconnectedness of all life and the importance of honoring indigenous knowledge and practices. In this season of renewal, let us commit to fostering a deeper understanding of indigenous culture and history.

Take time to learn about the traditional ecological knowledge of the original inhabitants of this land, and incorporate sustainable practices into our daily lives. Together, let us strive to be mindful stewards of the land, fostering harmony and respect for all beings who call this place home. A tangible way that we can do this is to practice. Leave no trace principles when we are outside recreating.

We can pick up our dog’s waste when we are out hiking. Don’t get it on the way back from our hike. Get it when it happens and carry it with us. Pick up trash where we see it. Observe wildlife from a distance and avoid feeding them. By practicing, some of these leave no trace principles, we can be stewards of the land that we claim to love so much.

We take this moment to honor the land and its native people, and the stories and knowledge that they share with us. 

Our first storyteller is  Kathleen Kennedy. Kathleen’s cherished family cabin, a symbol of precious memories, faces the relentless grip of time and erosion. A cancer diagnosis adds another layer of urgency, forcing a confrontation with impermanence. We call her story “Lessons in Letting Go” Thanks for listening.

Kathleen Kennedy

Kathleen Kennedy

When I was three years old, my dad began digging a trench that would be filled with concrete and form the foundation of a small cabin that he built by hand on the coast of Northern California. I can still see him, the shovel in his hands. His foot on the kick plate,  he’s wearing a white t shirt, he’s got zinc oxide on his nose and his hair.

His wavy brown hair is blowing in the breeze, there’s Bishop Pines behind him, and the mighty Pacific Ocean to his left.  My memory might be aided by the 8mm  home movie camera that chronicled much of this process,  but  when I say he built it by hand, I’m not exaggerating. We didn’t have electricity until the mid 90s when we got neighbors, and so every board was cut with a handsaw, every nail hammered in by hand.

And so it was a really slow process, but being teachers. My parents could load us up in the Volvo station wagon each summer, and we’d go camp in the redwoods of Guadalajara. My dad would go up to the lot and build. We were like a little hippie family. My sisters and me, we were wearing our plaid pants, our crocheted ponchos.

We had bandanas taming our really long stringy hair. But my parents were not hippies. They were about as straight as the nails that kept the framing together.  But, Once we could sleep inside the cabin, those times were magical. We could go down on the beach and play unsupervised, explore the tide pools.  We could look for the tiniest of seashells. 

And when the tide came in, we’d just go into the cabin and play. to the second floor and look out these magnificent windows onto the Pacific, and there was always something to watch. We look for gray whales, we watch osprey and brown pelicans, birds that were recovering from the ravages of DDT. And when I think about it, It’s really where I fell in love with the world and it’s likely why I became a science teacher. 

So  one year there was an El Nino event and the heavy rains and surf washed away about the last 15 feet.  long wooden staircase that led us down to the beach. And, you know, we didn’t mind. We just tied a rope around a post, and then we rappelled down. And, and when we did that, we’d go through this, like,  It was like mudstone, like a scree of mudstone.

And we didn’t really pay much attention to it. All of this material that was just kind of crumbling down from the cliff. And, you know, El Ninos occur on pretty regular intervals. So over the years, more of the cliff would erode. And then eventually the top started to erode as well. So, you know. And I distinctly remember sitting in my UM Geology class and learning about slope and a material’s angle, angle of repose and just having this sinking feeling because  suddenly I thought about that material and from that lecture hall I started to worry. 

I always knew I was going to retire there, there someday, you know, I would be content to live that simple life. Um, and I, I continued to visit and I put that out of my mind. But as an adult, my worries really shifted to my parents. And  my dad was showing some signs of dementia. And because I would travel from Missoula to the Bay Area and go up to the cabin to get my ocean fix, I was, I was aware of it.

I, each trip would notice more cognitive decline and I tried to tell my sisters and my mom and everyone was in denial until one day there was no denying it. And a few years later, he died of an aortic aneurysm. And I have to say, somewhat thankfully, he spared us from what would have surely been a painful, long goodbye. 

But,  I continued to go to the cabin. It was my happy place.  My mom, she struggled to get up there. But I would take her when I could.  And one trip I arrived up there and, and the ground was kind of sinking and there was a tree that was leaning one of those Bishop pines and our neighbor’s deck was sinking and they had hired a geotech firm to figure out what was going on.

And I took all these pictures so I could report back to my sisters what was going on. And,  you know, the building didn’t. It wasn’t worth much, but it was my dad’s legacy. And that view was priceless. And I started to really, like, campaign to save the cabin.  And so we did try.  We hired that geotech firm and we got a plan and we moved the cabin  and then we put it on.

Kind of an, at an angle because the lot was getting smaller and smaller, closer and closer to the edge, if you will. And so,  did that on an emergency permit. We couldn’t obtain a full permit until we got approval. And so it was up on these supports.  And then COVID hit, and the county planning office closed down, and they weren’t doing anything.

They were not going to approve any permits because no one was there. When they finally reopened, suddenly the rules had changed. And now the height variance was no longer going to be grandfathered in, and they wanted a rare plant size. survey. They wanted an archaeological survey. Um, they did not like what the geotech firm had proposed for the foundation.

And we were sort of stuck. And you know, the money was going out to sea much like the material from the cliff. And we really didn’t know what to do. There were no more liquid assets. And so we just kind of paused while we gathered ourselves.  And then that cough that I had always attributed to Missoula’s, uh, smoky summer air, it turned out to be stage three lung cancer.

And suddenly, like, my whole world was crumbling. And so,  I was not thinking about the cabin, but I was also thinking how much I would have loved to be able to be there to recover from my treatment, but I couldn’t go because it wasn’t on a foundation and therefore uninhabitable. And about the same time, we had these new neighbors.

They were part of that, like, COVID urban exodus.  And they started to call and email, and they had a lot of complaints and questions and, you know, they were saying things like, hey, this is an eyesore and a fire hazard and we’re worried vagrants or squatters might come. And I was simultaneously indignant  and sympathetic. 

But I also had this I was feeling like I would love for squatters to come there and, and light a fire and burn it down, like problem solved.  So they, they were really relentless and, you know, we’re just like, Hey, she’s dealing with cancer. Like you can’t do this, but they didn’t care. And so finally I said to my sisters, we got to hire a lawyer.

And so we did. And then we, uh, said, hey, why don’t you ask them if they would like to buy it and perhaps deal with the expense, like a demolition permit is really expensive there, as is disposal. And miraculously, they said yes.  And then I had to  figure out how to let go, how to let go of this place that meant so much.

And so I tried to remember all of my Buddhist studies and think about impermanence and non attachment. And I finally came to a place where I was like, okay, yes, this is what we have to do, I understand.  And,  I also couldn’t stand the thought of certain things being demolished, and I had to go to retrieve them.

There were these little wooden, um, plaque pieces, scraps of wood that people wrote messages It was to my dad at his memorial and we were gonna put it in the fireplace there and burn them to send those messages up, but we never did. But I knew right where they were.  So my friend Sheila and I decided we’d go on this retrieval mission.

And we bought hard hats and gloves and, you know, wore these old clothes, and we drove up from our place in Marin, and we had to break in the door, because  it had settled. And when we opened that door, it was like this multi sensory assault.  Um, there were mouse droppings everywhere and mouse carcasses. It was almost like the mice died while they were moving through, scampering across the floor because, I don’t know, it was so clear that it was the right decision.

There was nothing that could have been done to bring that place back. And so I retrieved the things and I went up the stairs and I said, you know, kind of my goodbye and I looked out. The window, it had been turned and I looked at the view and it wasn’t anything like what I loved. Um,  so I cried and I took my leave  and now that I’m dealing with a cancer recurrence,  I’m trying to.

I’d like to just summon those lessons again to remember that clinging to something,  it often just delays inevitable, um, the inevitable and that it can often bring you even more pain.  And that, But the reality of impermanence, there’s no escaping it. So as I move through this next round of cancer, I want to remember those lessons.

I want to let them inform me  and inform how I choose to spend the rest of my days on earth. Thank you.

Marc Moss

Thanks, Kathleen.

Kathleen Kennedy grew up in Oakland, CA, and is a science teacher at Big Sky High School, with 24 years teaching experience. She has won a variety of prestigious teaching awards. She won the EcoDaredevil award in 2009, and in 2011 she was a Fulbright Japan-US Teacher in the Exchange Program for Education for Sustainable Development  She was an Adult Participant in American Youth Leadership Program’s Trip to Thailand in 2015, and continues to be passionate about her students and teaching. When she’s not busy saving the world and working towards a sustainable future, you might find her enjoying the beauty Missoula has to offer, rocking out to Pearl Jam, or dancing along to her favorite Dave Matthews song.

Next we join Susan Waters on a journey that transcends the physical.  Hear the voice that offered a stark choice at death’s door. Susan defies the odds and lives on to continue her work on this corporal plane. Susan calls her story “Fade to White”. Thanks for listening.

Susan Waters

One of the great joys of many outdoor recreationists is mountain biking.  There’s that incredible sense of freedom, being able to go far and fast.  And the burn of the muscles as you grind up those hills. And the precision and the focus it takes to do the single tracks.  And then that screaming exhilaration when you’re flying downhill. 

So it’s September, 2005.  Beautiful, late summer, Missoula day that you just don’t want to let go of.  I had just finished a group trail ride up in Paddy Canyon.  And everybody’s relaxed and happy, and they start heading back into town.  And I lingered behind because I wanted to take some photographs.  So when I was ready to come back down to town, I loaded up my bike, and started heading down Paddy Canyon Road by myself. 

And for those that don’t know, it’s a paved two lane road, generally in pretty good shape, light traffic,  um, but windy.  And I’m cruising along, not a care in the world.  And the last thing I remember is this visceral feeling that suddenly something huge was in front of me. And it happened so fast, and I couldn’t hit it, so I slammed on the brakes,  and black. 

The next thing I know, I’m pulling myself off the pavement,  onto the gravelly shoulder of the road.  And I’m stunned, and I have absolutely no idea what had just happened.  I was there for a while, and this little pickup truck comes up the road.  And a man who spoke very little English asked if I was okay. 

And, you know, stubbornly, I said, ah, you know, I’ll shake it off. I’ll, I’ll just, I’ll be okay. And I tried to get up, and I couldn’t.  So he stopped.  There was another bicyclist that came up the road, and he summed up the situation pretty quickly and took control and said, you need to go to the hospital.  So they load me up in the truck. 

We’re riding down Pattee Canyon Road,  and I keep losing consciousness,  and I manage to crank down the window.  And stick my head out so that the water, the, the air would hit me in the face and keep me awake.  And my consciousness kept fading to white.  And then there was this voice.  And it was genderless,  very kind but neutral, and matter of factly said, you know you can die from this, don’t you? 

And I thought, well, it’s looking a little worse than I thought.  And the voice said, do you want to stay or do you want to go?  And without even thinking about it, I said, if I still have work I need to do here, I want to stay.  And the voice said,  okay.  And from that point on, I had absolutely no fear.  I had an unshakable faith that I would be okay. 

And for once in my life, I surrendered into that. 

And I was at complete peace.  And this was way before the hospital drugs. 

So we have a bouncy ride back down into town.  We hit the downtown traffic, and it’s heavy. So the two guys in the truck are yelling at the other motorists in two languages to get out of our way.  We get to the ER, and things are relatively quiet. And that’s it. And, the crescendo starts building up, there’s more people, there’s more equipment, there’s all these sounds, they’re stitching me up, they’re taking me into scans,  and a doctor comes out, and is very serious,  and says,  you have a concussion, you have broken bones,  and you have severe internal injuries,  we’re gonna have to put you on life flight to go to Seattle. 

And I’m sitting there, taking a minute to take it in, and I’m like, okay.  So I’m laying on the table, they’re prepping me, and there’s two nurses, just right outside the door in the corridor.  And one of them says, I don’t think she’s gonna make it.  She came around the corner, and she saw me looking at her, and she was horrified. 

But I had to smile at her.  And I think I even winked at her. And I wasn’t upset at all.  Because I knew she was wrong. 

So now the hospital drugs are kicking in.  They wheeled me out on the tarmac at the airport  to get me on the life flight plane.  And I’m in one of those ridiculous hospital gowns, you know those really thin ones that make you feel really, really vulnerable?  And there was a big wind,  and my thought was, oh my god, what happens if the plane crashes?

And this is all I’m wearing. 

So the flight,  the pain,  boy, it hits hard  and I’m so uncomfortable and I turn on my side and my blood pressure crashes.  My angel paramedic brought me back  and I’ll never forget looking up at those warm, comforting eyes  that were so reassuring. And his gaze never left mine, that entire flight. 

One of my friends was able to get to the ER quickly, and they talked her into getting on the life flight with me to be my medical advocate.  And at one point in the flight, I looked up and I saw her. She was in a jump seat facing toward me. And she had those big headsets on. And her face was deathly white.

And her eyes like saucers. And she looked so small and so afraid.  And I just wanted to hug her and convince her that everything was gonna be okay. 

Seattle was nuts. Yes. I mean, if ever there was a time to check out, it was then.  There was so much noise and chaos and they were just tossing me around that I just surrendered again into this  peaceful sea of white. 

I regained consciousness about a week later in the hospital.  And then a couple of weeks after that I was released back home to a very long recovery. 

My helmet,  helmets,  and trauma medicine saved my life, and for that I will always be grateful.  The people were so skilled and so caring,  but the system is very strained,  and they don’t have a lot of time  to give individual treatment.  So after about a year of recovery,  An extreme physical therapy, it’s a sport. 

They were proposing some really invasive and scary surgeries.  And it just, down to my bones, did not feel right.  So I decided to go another direction. And I started looking into alternative health.  And there was no stone left unturned. And hey, it’s Missoula, you’re all out there. 

I did mental health therapy, I did eastern medicine, sacred,  indigenous,  all of those medicines  that are ancient and so wise.  And all of these practitioners took the time  And they were really present and really listened. 

I have to acknowledge I have a lot of privilege.  That I was able to,  I had a lot of options.  That not a lot of people have.  And they should.  Equally. 

And I also acknowledge that I had a lot of fairy dust. Good luck to.  So, do I regret  staying?  To be honest, at times, yes.  The following years were the hardest of my life, and it wasn’t just the recovery.  I lost both of my dear friends, lifelong friends, prematurely and tragically. Both my parents died.  I lost several animal companions. 

And I lost my livelihood.  But I’m on borrowed time,  so I have to be grateful, because I got to spend a few more years with those friends.  I got to hold both of my parents hands before they died. 

I played hard with those pet companions in the mountains and in the rivers.  I made tons of new friends, beautiful, wonderful friends.  And my family expanded,  and the love multiplied.  And I was so inspired that I studied and trained and I opened my own wellness practice. 

And  every day,  I’m so moved to be able to help other people find their light and their voice.  And gain the skills they need to navigate through their changes and challenges,  just as my teachers had done with me.  And they,  and beautiful, quirky Missoula and community that we have here,  all rallied together and motivate me every day.

To find joy and gratitude. And to keep looking for all of that work that I’m still left to do. [Applause]

Marc Moss

Thanks, Susan.

Susan Waters is an avid outdoor recreationist, family and friend cultivator, and animal lover. Raised in Missouri and Colorado, she was drawn to the laid-back and nature-focused lifestyle of Missoula in the 1990s. She has had many livelihoods, including working as an artist, writer, filmmaker, photographer and communicator for numerous environmental and social causes. Active in the community, Susan cherishes all of her daily connections and navigates with an open heart and a well earned sense of trust.

Coming up after the break,

Despite professional achievements and a happy family, a deep unease lingers for our first storyteller after the break, until a surprising discovery unlocks a door to self-understanding

Annabelle Winnie

I do wonder if what we think of as traits for neurodivergent, if they’re really adaptations, is there ways that the body adapts, behaviors adapt, and even the brain itself adapts to a world that often feels too bright, too loud. It’s just too much. 

Marc Moss

and our final story about two women exploring a new friendship, running on epic trails, pushing both their bodies and their hearts to the limit.

Amanda Taylor

We were texting each other every day. Morning. Tonight we call them play by plays, which I also loved because it made me feel sporty, like, yeah, we’re sending play by plays.”

Marc Moss

Stay with us.

Thank you to the Good Food Store who, as the Story Sponsor, helped us pay our storytellers. Learn more about them at goodfoodstore.com. Thanks to Spark Arts who provided childcare for the performance. You can learn more about Spark at sparkartslearning.org. Thanks to our Stewardship sponsor, Blackfoot Communications, who helped us to give away free tickets to underserved populations. Learn more about Blackfoot, celebrating 70 years, at goblackfoot.com.

Thank you to the Good Food Store who, as the Story Sponsor, helped us pay our storytellers. Learn more about them at goodfoodstore.com. Thanks to Spark Arts who provided childcare for the performance. You can learn more about Spark at sparkartslearning.org. Thanks to our Stewardship sponsor, Blackfoot Communications, who helped us to give away free tickets to underserved populations. Learn more about Blackfoot, celebrating 70 years, at goblackfoot.com.

You are listening to the Tell Us Something podcast where people share their true stories around a theme live in person without notes. I’m Marc Moss. Storytellers in this episode shared their stories in front of a full house on March 26, 2024 at The George and Jane Dennison Theatre in Missoula Montana.]

In our next story, Annabelle Winnie, a successful therapist and mother, grapples with a lifelong sense of dissonance. Despite outward competence, she’s navigated years of therapy, seeking answers for a struggle she couldn’t quite grasp. Annabelle calls her story “Belonging.” Or…”Another Way to See.” Or “Another Way to Be.” Thanks for listening.

Annabelle Winnie

I’m in my new therapist’s office.  We’re sitting under the branches of her indoor ficus tree. Across the room are bookshelves. There’s a sculpture, or maybe it was a print of a caregiver embracing a child. Because this is Missoula, a few of you may be wondering, have we had the same therapist? 

I’d gone to see her because I was having a dilemma of dissonance.  I guess people often see me as competent, composed, confident.  This was about 10 years ago. I was the mother of two young boys, married, and a successful professional.  And yet, I’d been in and out of therapy most of my life. More in than out.

The first time I went, I was seven or eight. My mom brought me because I seemed like a miniature adult. And it worried her. 

Yeah, hi mom, it’s me. I, I, yeah, I’m in my mid forties, I know. We haven’t really talked about this in decades.  But you remember in third grade and sixth grade, I didn’t understand what was happening. I just didn’t get it. It was terrible. It’s still kind of like that, I just fake it,  but I don’t understand what’s going on. 

This is when information about women and autism was just hitting the mainstream media. Because of my job, I had to read about it and I had to understand it. And the more I read first person narratives and interviews, the more I identified. It was starting to tear me up in part, apart, inside.  I tried talking to family, friends, even some close colleagues.

For the most part, I felt like, I felt like I got this look that said,  I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Annabelle, but I don’t see it.  And, and this  just  hit me in a very painful way.  I am a therapist,  and I’ve had a lot of positive feedback pretty consistently about my work. And yet I was understanding myself in this new way that made so much sense to me.

It just organized so many struggles I’d had.  But at this point, I was like, well, If I’m autistic, does that mean I can’t have empathy for other people or I can’t understand other people’s internal world? Here I was, I couldn’t understand my own internal world. I was starting to spin out. It was coming out sideways with my kids.

I was behaving with them in ways that I knew weren’t good for them. And so when this latest therapist suggested, as I myself had done already a couple of times, she is. Suggested that I get assessed, and I agreed. 

03a p2 Annabelle Winnie.wav

 It was kind of like a drug deal.  I had to cross state lines and it was a cash only  kind of a transaction.  I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear the idea of going to someone that I might interact with professionally and there’s no way this was going to be on my medical record. So I found a clinic in Denver, I went, I poured my heart out, they talked to my family, I took their tests and then I waited. 

I’m in my car behind my work building when I get the call, I take it right away.  Okay,  email, assessment, next week, talk, thank you.  They diagnosed me with mild autism. It’s still really weird and it was kind of painful.  It made so much sense. For the first time as an adult, I had a sense that there was a rhyme and reason to the ways that I had so consistently struggled. 

I read the assessment further. Yeah. Yeah.  Turns out,  I’m actually really smart. 

This really surprised me because  I knew I was very good at a few things, but I struggled with a lot of things that I didn’t hear people talking about as struggles. 

I’m not very smart visually. So I have a very high discrepancy between my verbal capacity and my visual capacity.  And again, I started to wonder, is this why not once, but twice as a child, I ended up in the emergency room because I kept walking into telephone poles and concrete pillars.  I wondered if maybe my brain just didn’t know what to do with visual social information. 

It’s like, who cares? Words are so much more interesting.  And then maybe my brain doesn’t put energy into my own nonverbal cues,  visual cues. So sometimes I may seem a little flat or wooden. And  I started to think about myself as a plant.  And this was very, very hopeful for me. 

We do share over 60 percent of our DNA with bananas. 

It’s true. 

I imagined, I really had hope, like autonomously as an adult, I had hope for the first time.  Like a plant, if I could just figure out  what are my sensory needs, what do I need to process a little more fluidly? What do I need to learn social, emotional  information or experiences? It’s not intuitive for me.  I imagine that if I understood this about myself and I could develop a deep acceptance, a radical love, that like a plant, I would just  grow. 

Nowadays, I feel more like a dog.  And like a dog shakes off excess water and mud, I just want to shake off preconceived notions, labels.  I just want to be myself.  There is a Maori.  A  linguist and educator who created a dictionary of mental health and addiction terms in the Maori language.  Some of the words he had to create because they didn’t exist in his language.

Takiwatanga is the word that he created for autism and it means in a person’s own time,  in a person’s own way.  He created this definition based on his experience of having been friends with a man with autism from as children and through adulthood.  I do wonder if what we think of as traits for neurodivergence, if they’re really adaptations, there are ways that the body adapts. 

Behaviors adapt, and even the brain itself adapts to a world that often feels too, too bright, too loud. It’s just too much. 

I’m in my late twenties. I’m in an intensive care unit. My grandfather just had bypass surgery. He’s on a ventilator. He can’t speak. His arms are restrained to the bed. My aunt and my mom are there. It’s a mess. I’m holding my grandfather’s hand. He’s he’s looks terrible.  This is my grandfather, a very quiet man. 

His humor was so subtle and so dry, if you sneezed, you might miss his jokes.  He was a physicist and he was a researcher and it wasn’t until after he died that his family, we knew how, um, accomplished he was cause he just didn’t talk about it.  He would reference chaos theory to try to motivate him to do housework. 

I’m going to go make some order out of the chaos, he would say, and rub his knuckles together in this very rhythmic, um, familiar way.  As he would go upstairs to work in his office. So I’m standing there with him, I’m holding his hand, he’s squeezing my hand, I’m squeezing him back, he’s squeezing my hand, and it comes to me in a moment, this is my grandfather who was a telegraph operator, that was his first job out of college.

He’s giving me SOS, I look at him and I say, you’re giving me SOS, and I wonder if he thinks he’s dying. I explain to him what’s happening, he’s on a vent, it’s going to pass. He’ll be able to talk again. And I, I do wonder if these questions of identity become so important for us as humans because it orients us toward where we belong and to whom we belong. 

Marc Moss

Thanks, Annabelle.

Annabelle Winnie has lived in Missoula since 2011. You might find her walking or biking around town, acting as chauffeur for one of her 2 kids, or taming the wild raspberry patch in her backyard. 

Rounding out this episode of the Tell Us Something podcast is Amanda Taylor, who learns that the path to love isn’t always smooth, and Amanda and Heather learn that the most powerful relationships can exist outside the box. Amanda calls her story “Heather”. Thanks for listening.

Amanda Taylor

 I Always thought that I needed to be perfect to be loved  and then I met Heather and Heather is almost six feet tall. She casually looks like an athletic supermodel without trying  she has naturally like white blonde hair and incredible calves  We first met at a Griz game, which is funny because I am not sporty at all. 

And we met at the game, and, you know, we stayed in touch afterwards via social media. And this was about 13 years ago.  And I would see her posting about going on runs, like the Missoula Marathon, or the RUT, which is a, if you don’t know, it’s a race in Big Sky where people pay money to run up a mountain where there’s, like, off the sides and they say that it’s fun. 

Um, and I would just hit love on those posts 

and I would run into her around town and she would say, Amanda, you have to come running with me. And I said, yeah, totally.  It’s like, I, I won’t be running with you.  And then about seven years ago I went through a breakup.  And I decided to reinvent myself as a trail runner.  And I remembered Heather. And so I reached out to her and I said, Hey, would you be up for showing me some trails around town?

If you just show me a few, like you, you don’t have to keep going with me, but if you just go with me like twice and show me where to go, then I can go alone and I’ll stop bothering you.  And she said, sure. And within five minutes, we had plans to meet up that week to go run at waterworks. And we did a loop around waterworks and talked about our jobs.

And I probably talked about dating like I always do.  And she, uh, you know, we didn’t share a whole lot. And then, um, she asked if I wanted to go on a steeper run and I said, sure, if we can go slow and she said, yes. So then we met up a few days later and went up Sentinel.  And as we made our way up, and my calves are burning, and my lungs are burning, and I’m trying to be sporty, um,  We hit this ice field.

It’s like a 3×3 ice field.  And I was like, ah, I’m scared.  I’m like, frozen. And she steps across the ice field with her giant calf.  And she reached across the ice and helped me across. And I was so embarrassed. I figured she would never want to go on an adventure with me again.  And then we got to the top and she went to give me a high five.

And I just did, you know, Cause  I’m not sporty.  And, um,  and then things kind of escalated after that. The next thing I knew, we had a workout schedule Monday through Saturday. 

With, um, runs and weights and yoga and Pilates. And, uh, we were texting each other every day, morning to night. We called them play by plays, which I also loved cause it made me feel sporty.  I’m like, yeah, we’re sending play by plays.  Um.  And then, um, you know, over time and many miles and,  and hours in the woods and up and down mountains and many pairs of shoes, I started to sense that there was something sad about her. 

And you can’t really approach someone and say, why is your soul sad?  So I thought,  I’m going to crack this nut, um,  I’m just going to share everything I can with her.  And then maybe she’ll tell me why she’s sad.  And so,  you know, and we had tons of time out there. Um, so I just shared everything about my life, a bunch of things that I will not be saying into a microphone tonight. 

Um, and things that were really shrouded with shame. And she would take all of them and say, Oh yeah, I could totally see how like given your life and what you’ve been through, like that totally makes sense that you would do that.  I was like, Oh, okay. She’s still here. Cool. Um,  and then she began to share a little bit about the relationship she was in.

And basically the conclusion that she had come to was that it wasn’t really love, like big love that makes your heart explode. It was just okay.  And he was a good person and they had a good life. So that’s what she was going to do.  I was like, ah, that’s where it is. Um, And so also why we were running all these miles is because she had gotten into a 100 mile trail running race and for some reason she thought I should pace her in it. 

And so we were training for this and I was going to pace her for the last 20 miles.  And we went to Idaho for this race, and, uh, during the race, at one point,  you know, she’s at mile 80, and I have fresh legs, so I can keep up, and, um, oh, if you’ve never been to a 100 mile trail running race, it is a spectacle.

Um, So, um,  Everyone starts out super pumped, they’re like full of smiles. And then you meet them at aid stations along this hundred mile route, up and down mountains, through the woods, through the night.  And as they go to aid stations, the life just slowly leaves  their faces.  And their, like, bouncy running becomes like a zombie shuffle. 

And they just look more and more sad every time you see them.  So I was there with her, mile 80,  and by this point she was having a lot of pain in her knees, and we were on a ridgeline, and I just remember watching her moving in pain. And behind my sunglasses, I’m crying. Because it’s so painful to see her in pain, but I’m supposed to be the strong one, like watching my clock, making sure we make the cutoff so she can finish.

So I did my job, I kind of held it together, and you can’t like, when you’re a pacer, you can’t touch them, you can’t hold their hand, you can’t hug them. So I just had to watch her suffer, and it was awful. But I kept saying, we got it, we just have to keep moving.  Eventually, we did get to the end, and, uh, she was the only female finisher of that race. 

Woo! 

And then on the way home, we sat in the back of the car for a lot of the ride, and she slept with her head on my leg. And I remember just wanting to cry about how much I loved her.  And I just thought, gosh, this is a really intense friendship. 

And, um,  It was. 

And then we got home and a couple days later we went for a walk to the river and we sat by the river and debrief the race and how she won and um,  and then she got serious and she said, Amanda, I have to ask you something. I was like, okay. And she said, what do you think about my relationship?  And I said, do you really want to know?

Because this is going to be hard. And she said, yes.  And so I said,  I don’t think that you’re happy and I love you so much that it  causes me pain to know that you’re not happy and that you’re not giving yourself a chance to live your happiest life.  And I said, I can’t.  I don’t think there’s any way I could sit.

Oh, I think I forgot to say, at some point in there they got engaged. So pretend I said that.  Boop! Little rewind. Um, so they were engaged and I said,  I don’t think I can sit at your wedding and watch you knowing that you are not happy. Like, that would break my heart.  And then we just sat there and stared at the river for a while. 

And then in  classic Amanda form, just blurting out things I feel uncomfortable about, um, I just said,  also,  I want to make out with you. 

And she said nothing. 

So I thought, great. I just made the greatest friendship of my life really weird.  Made it weird again. Okay. Bye.  And, um, I said, Oh my gosh, did I just ruin everything? And she just grabbed my hand, and we stared at the river, and she said, You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re fine. I just need to figure out what I’m going to do with my life. 

Which is such an easy task, right? Um, so,  um, I said, okay, and we parted ways. And then later, or a few days later, we met up to go for a run, because a hundred miles wasn’t enough.  Um, and I got to the trailhead, and she said, get in the car. And I said, okay. And, uh, and then she said, Amanda, I’m just gonna tell you everything.

Mm hmm.  And she said, I have loved women since I was four.  And I have loved you from the time that I helped you across the ice.  The timer doesn’t count if I’m trying not to cry.  Okay. 

Um, 

and she said,  I was dying when you wore that black dress to the trail running festival. And I was dying when you hung out in a swimsuit and a flannel all day.  And this whole time I have just been trying to be respectful and not see you like that, because I love you so much.  Whoo,  and then for the first time in my life,  I kissed a woman. 

And her Her hands were soft, and her face was soft, and her lips were soft, and there was no like, scratchy hair 

exfoliating my face. 

And we were basically together after that. And then,  you know, we were late for everything because we were in bed. And um,  And then the bliss wore off  and I was still the person I was with my issues and she was still the person she was with her issues  and the romantic part of our relationship did not work. 

But  we made a deal to be friends and to not give up on one another. And after that was a year, a very tumultuous year, or maybe a little longer of the most difficult conversations I have ever had that I never want to have again.  But,  um, 

now, um, she is the greatest, one of the greatest cheerleaders of my life. And she is living her happiest life with her girlfriend. And. And I am living my life knowing, even though I forget for moments, sometimes I know in my bones that I can be imperfect and loved.  Thank you.

Marc Moss

Thanks, Amanda. Amanda Taylor is a lover of laughter and of love. After sharing a story at Tell Us Something one year ago, she finally followed her dream of trying stand-up comedy. Now she is a local stand-up comedian, even though she feels like an imposter saying that. Amanda is on a lifelong journey of living in alignment with herself, and is forever grateful to each person who has loved and continues to love her along the way.

Please remember that our next event, in partnership with Missoula Pride is on June11 at the Glacier Ice Rink in the Missoula County Fairgrounds. The theme is “Going Home ”.  Learn more about Tell Us Something and get tickets for the next event at tellussomething.org.