Transcript : Letting Go Part 1
Welcome to the Tell Something podcast. I’m Mark Moss. We are currently looking for storytellers for the next tell us something storytelling event. The theme is, it’s the Little Things. If you’d like to pitch your story for consideration, please call 4 0 6 2 0 3 4 6 8 3. You have three minutes to leave your pitch.
The pitch deadline is November 7th. I look forward to hearing from you this week on the podcast.
And then she stopped and looked at me and said, Would you like to see them?
I had vertigo. My skull was like a swarm of bees.
I’m being judged cuz my kid doesn’t wanna bike. I get
it. And we’re about to step into the light.
And our mom, she runs out of the house.
Four storytellers share their true personal story on the theme, letting. Their stories were recorded. Live in person in front of over 900 listeners on September 27th, 2022 at the Denison in Missoula, Montana. We wouldn’t have been able to produce this event without the help of our title sponsor The Good Food Store.
We are so grateful to the team at the Good Food Store for their support. Learn more about the Good Food [email protected]. Our first story comes to us from Susan Shan. A chance meeting with a stranger in a car wash waiting room leads to a consensual ogling of breasts, a feeling up and much needed information for Susan on her journey of deciding about breast reconstruction after surviving breast cancer.
Susan calls her story. Deconstruction. Thanks for listening.
In the spring of 2009, I am sitting in the waiting room of a full service car wash as I’m chomping on my complimentary popcorn. An attractive, well dressed woman walks in and sits down. We strike up a conversation and it’s not long before that conversation turns to. It is clear by looking at me that I am not well.
I have a head scarf, no eyebrows, no eyelashes, that ashy moon face. I’m in treatment for stage three breast cancer. I’ve had the removal of my right breast and all the lymph nodes under my arm. Um, I’ve had six months of chemo and I’m heading into radiation. And as we chat, the woman reveals that she is a breast cancer survivor who’s had a double mast.
And she asked me whether I’ve made a decision yet about what to do about the right breast, and I said I hadn’t. The doctors have been talking about reconstruction, but I really hadn’t made any solid decisions. She became very enthusiastic and animated. She said she had had reconstruction and she was thrilled with the results.
She talked some about the surgery, and then she stopped and looked at me. Would you like to
And I went, Um, oh, okay. So we go into the bathroom
at the car wash
where she pulls up her blouse and her bra and reveals these beautiful breast. They are round, it’s symmetrical. The skin has been pulled to look like nipples.
They, they have expert tattooing. They’re works of art. She shows me the scarring. She talks a little bit more about the reconstruction, and then she looked at me and she said, Would you like to touch them? And I. Oh, okay. So I touched them. They felt very normal. I guess. We wrapped up our conversation and got in our separate clean cars, drove away.
I never knew her name, so I said driving off. It like hits me like, Oh my God, I’m an educator and a mother of two. What if somebody walked in? And then my next thought, How incredibly generous. Um, I’d have doctors talking at me about what comes next, but I didn’t really have a sense about what that meant or what it could be.
And then it dawned on me, Oh, wait a minute. I could actually get bigger, better breast out of this deal. I never even considered that before. So I was excited. I called the surgeon, go in for a meeting, enthusiastically start talking about what I want and what I’d seen, and he’s nodding. Well we could do that.
Let’s talk about what it would mean for you. He said, first of all, you’ve had almost all your tissue removed from your right side. So any kind of reconstruction is gonna involve moving tissue from some other part of your body, um, and also an implant. And he said, We don’t really have enough in your stomach or hips.
So we’d be talking about moving tissue around from your back to build out the breast. And I’m nodding, And he said, and also, You would have to wait till after radiation, uh, and your skin heals. And then skin’s not very elastic. So there is these series of procedures to stretch the skin, and by this time my jaws dropped and I am feeling, no pun intended, deflated.
Um, he talks about, um, the fact that I would lose quite a bit of mobility in my right arm as well. So I leave that appointment and give it a deep thought. Yeah, talk it over with my. Husband, my friends, my family, and come to the decision not to have, um, the reconstructive surgery. So that left option two, which is a prosthetic breast.
So I go to the store in the cancer center, which kind of has the ambiance of a upscale lingerie shop, and the woman is very, she’s lovely, and she takes home my measurements and brings out the prosthetic breast, which I start to refer to as my fae breast and the accompanying. Now this bra is industrial strength.
It’s big, big, wide strap, sturdy, and all of that serves a purpose, right? It keeps the faux breasts firmly place. So I take all that stuff home and I try it on with my clothes, and I’m immediately frustrated because some part of that bra is hanging out with no matter what I put on. So I sit there and I think about it.
I think, You know what? I’m a small breasted woman. This is what I’m gonna. I’m gonna just get my old bra and I’m gonna use that. I’ll just pop the faux breast in, pull the little strap type. It’s gonna be great. Fast forward member of months later. I’m a principal at an elementary school and it’s pajama day.
I am in my tasteful two piece red flannel pajamas. It’s that Friday before the winter break. The building’s buzz with parents and parties, and I’m flitting around the classroom. and I walked by the fifth grade hallway and as I look in a group of kids getting ready to start a game of Twister.
So , Miss Sheer, Miss
Will you come play Twister with? Yeah, I’m game. Let’s do it. So we have a rollicking game of Twister. It’s great. Leave the classroom, finish out the day. Um, buses pull away and I see the fifth grade teacher, she’s a first year teacher, usually pretty direct and enthusiastic in her communication approaching me, and she could not look me in the eye.
And she’s hemming and she’s hawing, and she says, Um, Ms. Shinker, um, I think I have something that belongs to you. . She reaches into her coat pocket, pulls out my faux breast, which apparently had plopped on the twister mat somewhere between left hand red and right foot green or whatever. Luckily no kids were harmed in any of this
Um, I was mort. I was mortified, but I wasn’t totally surprised cuz that same food breast had popped outta my bathing suit in a hot tub in Santa Fe on a romantic getaway with my husband. It just sort of percolated on top. . He grabbed it quickly before anyone could see, so I, I decided that the, this was the, uh, the stars were aligning and I just had to be a big girl and wear the big bra and get on.
And I did that for many, many years. Um, and then in 2009, teen, we retired here to Missoula and quickly settled into the relaxed outdoor lifestyle and all that good stuff. And I felt over time I was rarely using the bra or the breast. Um, most of the time I was either in a sports bra or pajamas and. during, during 2020 who wore a bra ever.
Anyway, so just kind of got out of the habit and, um, and not long ago, I, I was cleaning out my closet and I tossed them. And it wasn’t some like big gesture or big, I don’t know, symbolic move. It was just a logical step in a process. And when I think about that process of going from magical thinking of bigger, better breast to embracing my one breast fitness, um, certainly having, um, a loving spouse and family, um, it’s certainly a sense of humor has been pretty critical.
But what I’ve had most of all is time. I’ve had a good long. Almost 14 years. And,
but as a long term survivor, I am painfully aware that not everybody gets this time and so does enough to stand here as a one breasted woman.
Thanks Susan. Susan Schenker is originally from Houston and as a retired educator. She and her husband Mark have three adult children, one grandson, and one very spoiled puppy now living happily ever after. In Miss. Susan enjoys hiking, trail running yoga, and surprisingly long winter evenings. Our next storyteller is Margie Kates.
Margie, in her own words, it tells us that her story is about that transition between burning with ambition and discovering that the thing you needed has always been inside you. No flames required. Maybe some tears. Margie calls her story. The body keeps the score, and boy is she pissed. Thanks for listening.
I was living in New Orleans, a place where music is a living, breathing thing. The city is wild and alive. There are little s of despair around every corner. Trumpet sound blooms in the night. My friends and I were wild and broken and beautiful, and we didn’t care. We rolled ourselves in glitter. Went out dancing in the streets, hung from balconies and made art, and we all knew how to hustle.
The poor bastards who came to our fair city, uh, we adorned ourselves in feathers and veils. But after five years I was struggling. I kept fainting and no one knew why. Uh, I had vertigo. My skull was like a swarm of bees. Pain would come hot in the middle of the night. I had muscle cramps and I couldn’t eat, so I went to doctors.
I waited months to see specialists of brain and heart and pain, and no one knew what was wrong with me, so I came home. To Missoula, Montana in the winter of 2020 to live with my parents, and see doctors. Um, I was on this terrible diet. I was like, Well, I couldn’t have caffeine or carbs or dairy. It was horrible.
I was cat cowing myself in and out of pain. Every morning I was seeing doctors, I was seeing therapists. I had no chance, like I just had to heal. Um, I was diagnosed with ptsd d.
Post Traumatic stress Disorder. Um, the body keeps the score and boy is she pissed. Oh yeah. Some of you read the book. Cool. . Um, and I was also diagnosed with autism. I know you’re confused. I’m a girl. I can talk. I’m not holding a Rubik’s cube. It’s backstage. we’re funny too. Uh, but the thing about trauma is that it’s defined as anything that’s too much, too fast or too little in too much time, essentially.
And that kind of describes my experience at Good Food Store at any given time, 6:00 PM
uh, but really this thing with trauma, my body. Had spent its whole life finding ways to numb and dissociate and, and the, the fainting was my body screaming at me. Um, and if you don’t know what dissociation means, it means, it’s like when you’re in a car with someone who talks too much and you like, kind of float out of your body so you don’t have to be there anymore.
Yeah. And uh, and that’s dissociation. See, we’ve all done. It’s very healthy until you do it for 12 years,
Um, my trauma happened to me in Missoula, Montana in my college dorm. It happened in recording studios over and over again, and it happened to me in New Orleans in my house. This story is not about those men. This is my story.
A chronic pain doctor told me my nervous system was turned up too high, that my body was sending ambulances and fire trucks to places that were no longer on fire. He said, Until you learn how to feel safe in your body, you will always be in pain. And I said, Safe. I’m a woman. Don’t tell me to feel safe.
But that’s called being triggered. And uh, yeah, it felt like a death sentence. When I was in New Orleans, I was gigging constantly. I was always hustling, I was always going. And this thing happens to musicians. You could call it depression, but it’s more of like an emptiness where you only feel whole when you’re on stage and you only feel.
Like a person when the audience is reflecting something back at you. And so the audience applauds and you’re overflowing. I mean, you kind of feel like a phony cuz you don’t believe in love, but you keep singing about it. Um, . Um, but you’re overflowing. And then you come home to your cat shit apartment, uh, with stale cigarette smoke in your hair, and there’s cocaine on the table that your roommate left out again.
and you feel emptier than ever before. But I kept hustling. I kept gigging. I kept trying, thinking that the next gig, the next song would take away that feeling. I was home, stuck in my body with no gigs, a broken body, and nothing left to give. So I waited. In the darkness. I was still, I cried, I slept. I talked to my mom and I thought, It doesn’t matter if I ever perform again.
It doesn’t matter if I ever sing again. I let go and something amazing happened. Music came back to me. Like, it started with poems at first, like ones I had to write and ones I had to read. And then I started listening to gospel music and I, uh, Jesus is great. He’s fine. Um, he’s a very nice man, , but I something about these songs, they’re about being helpless and humble and surrendering, so I surrendered.
And I found myself singing while doing the dishes and harmonizing while getting up in the morning, and I realized I wanted to die, but my voice didn’t. I. And so I waited and I let go more in that darkness. Little shoots of green came up and the more I let go. I rebuilt my relationship with my body through EMDR therapy and polyvagal therapy, and I found a space inside myself that was pure and open and loving.
And I had to let go of expectations of what someone who doesn’t have autism, how they live. I let go of dreams that had kept me afloat for years, and the fainting stopped. The muscle spasms abated, my stomach moved. It was a miracle. Okay, . It really felt like a miracle. And, uh, but more than that, I found a place where my voice could be in my body again, and my body was safe, my body was my home.
And now whenever I sing, it comes from that sacred space, whether it’s on a big stage with a band or just for my dog in the backyard. And I want you to know that if you have been hurt, you are not broken. They didn’t destroy you. It’s all still inside of you. You just have to open the door and feel all the grief and rage and terror because it is terrifying to be embodied, but it’s the key to community.
It’s the key to vulnerability, and it’s the key to. Joy and joy is our birthright. Many is the time I’ve been mistaken and many times confused. Yes. Enough often feel for and soon
more. Right. From weary to my bones, still one can expect to be Brian and Bon vivant so far away from home, so far away from home, and I don’t know a soul that’s not been battered. Don’t have a friend who feels at ease. I don’t know, a dream that’s not been shattered.
Still, tomorrow’s gonna be another working day and I’m trying to get some rest. I’m just trying to get some
Thanks, Margie. Missoula, born and raised. Margie Kates is a singer writer, and come. She has appeared on stages Oliver Missoula, as well as in New Orleans where she lived and worked for five years. You can find her riding her bike around town practicing Whitney Houston riffs. For links to all of Margie’s social media channels, visit tell us something.org.
In our next story, Michael Le Point, let’s go of his daughter’s bike when he’s teaching her to ride. He figures out that this is a metaphor for allowing his daughter Penny to grow up and become her own individual person. He, in turn, begins letting go of his ego and embracing his daughter’s humanity in a new light with a story that he calls.
I got this. Dad. Thanks for listening,
buddy. You got it.
Whew. All right. Um, if you could have been at, uh, camp T Y M C a summer camp in 1996, boy, you would’ve been blown away cuz I was the youngest camp counselor ever given his own cabin. I’m a big deal and I was pretty good at it. Turns out I had a thing for communicating with younger people and wrangling and getting people moving the right direction and I, I took those skills and in high school, um, I taught little kids how to swim.
You know, uh, blow bubbles in the pool. Kick talk to the fish. Listen to the fish, get the parents involved. And I took those skills. And when I moved to New York City, uh, I taught, uh, celebrity kids athletics. It was a weird gig. Made a lot of money doing it, and, uh, never met the parents. Um, a lot of really badass nannies doing a kick ass job raising these kids.
But that was a non-disciplinary program. You weren’t allowed to, to, to, certainly you weren’t allowed to yell, but you weren’t allowed. There were no timeouts. There was the word no. What was not allowed with this audience. So when I finally made my way to Missoula, I swore that’s it. I am not working with children anymore.
And after three months of unemployment, I was like, Look it. That actually sounds pretty good. . So I got a job working at this little school here called Spirit at. Uh, it’s incredible. It’s an incredible place and, and, uh, my daughter just graduated from there, Penn. She’s in kindergarten now, but my son Teddy, he now goes to spirit at play.
And, uh, moving here and, and getting that job, I felt like I had this thing, like I would, I would help kids figure out, How to exist in the world, how to engage in the world in a way that was meaningful and made the place, made the world a better place. And uh, and I, I know some of those kids now, I manage a restaurant.
I’ve hired seven of them and I’m like, I know you when you were five and you pick up trash . So, but the thing about all these gigs is at the end of the day, they weren’t my. I just send them along and, you know, it’s, um, it’s a reflection of some other parent. It’s not me. I do the best that I can, but whoever they turn out to be, however they are in the world, it’s not me, it’s them and it’s their parents.
and now I have my own kids and my daughter, Penny, she decides what she can and can’t do. And, and I want to be there saying, No, you, you can’t touch that. It’s hot and I don’t wanna see you get burned. And so don’t do it. And trust me, I’ve burned myself and, and she says, um, I, she knows how to ride a bike. I already know how to ride a bike.
And I’m like, You do not know how to ride a bike, kid. But we sign up for this, uh, class, the, uh, DERAILERS program, and we show up the little strider bike and she throws a fit. And, and I love biking, so I’m like, I’m not, I’m not gonna push her into this thing that she doesn’t like. So I pick her up and we get outta there.
You don’t wanna bike? Let’s not bike today. I’ll just try it again next week. But throwing that fit works. So next week it’s an even bigger. And I’m like, Yeah, let’s not do this again. And I, I’m carrying her out and I see this other parent who I, I hope’s not here tonight. Cause I don’t mean to, but it, it mattered to me.
This other parent, he goes, Oh, looks like Penny’s got two,
Michael’s got zero
could, I’m being judged cuz my kid doesn’t wanna bike. I get it. So winter comes along and uh, and we’re gonna go to discovery ski area. The only thing I love more than biking is skiing that. Where I’m at my most free. I love skiing. And boy, if my kids could ski, that would be incredible. And so
Penny and I were biking down, we’re biking, we’re driving down to discovery, and she’s in the back going, I already know how to ski. Like kid, you don’t. You don’t know how to ski and it’s gonna be rough cuz we’ve been through this. And lo and behold, we get to the parking lot and that same family from Derailers, they also go to Discovery
And so we get up to the thing, we put her in her boots and um, um, a good friend of mine told me, just keep plugging your kid with gummies all day long. So just feeding her. And we get up to the top, well not the top, we get up to the bunny hill and she can actually do it. She stands up, she points her toes, she can ski.
She can’t stop, but she can go and like, like pizza. And I, uh, I could cry thinking of it now. Cause we get back on the chairlift. I’m like so proud. And did all those other parents see what my kid just did? I’m like holding her like, You’re right, you can do it. But also in the back of my mind, I’m like, wait, now she thinks that she can just do stuff.
Like, I didn’t need that as a, like a barometer for her abilities. So skiing’s a success. We come back to Missoula. She still doesn’t bike. She’s at this wonderful preschool and I get a video from one of her teachers, and it’s her, uh, riding another kid’s bike at school. It’s Eleanor’s bike. Penny wanted me to make sure that I tell everybody she rode Eleanor’s bike with no training wheels, no one holding her.
I wasn’t there. And uh, and I got to see this video and I’m like, Maybe she does. She can do it. And I bring her bike to school that. Uh, do you want a bike home? I was like, Yeah. So put her helmet on and I got this little ski backpack that has a harness on it so I can hold her upright and we’re, we’re coming down towards our house and, uh, she’s got it.
Um, and as she’s going, I, I just like, I let go of her and she maybe gets like 15 feet in front of me and she yells, Let go, Dad. I was like, I already have kid and she crashes cuz she’s a five year old who doesn’t know how to ride a bike. Ugh. But in that moment, I was like, I, I’m not a reflection of this kid.
She is her own person. I don’t, it’s not a house plant, you know, She lives in this house with me too. And she’s gonna tell me what she can do, and she’s gonna learn that the stove is hot. You know, I gotta make sure she keeps her eyes or do my best,
I, I don’t get to decide what she’s capable of. I gotta let go. I gotta let her be her own person, and I wanna see what person she becomes. She can tell me, you, you tell me what you can do and who you are. That’s, that’s
what I got.
Thanks Michael. Michael La. Point is a regular guy trying to make it in an increasingly complicated world. He finds himself at 40 with dogs, kids, a wife and a mortgage. Not exactly sure how he arrived. Or where he’s going next. He believes that wherever you go, whatever you do, whenever you leave, leave it better than you found it.
Rounding out this episode of the Tele Something podcast is Hazel Wright. Along with her brother Hazel builds an awesome sledding jump and proceeds to unintentionally flip a 180 after landing, leading to a confused recovery. Hazel calls her story sledding catastrophe. Thanks for listening.
I opened my eyes and I’m staring at this lilac colored ceiling of my bedroom, and I’m just thinking, should I get up? Should I just lay here? Should I pretend I’m. So I can get 20 seconds more of valuable rest. And I just lay there. And then my mom barges in and she’s like, Hazel, you need to get up now. I’m sorry.
And she comes and she pokes my head and she goes, Hazel, I’m sorry. And then she goes, But it’s a snow day. And for snow days, that was. Amazing because we got to stay home and play in the snow and just have fun and we didn’t have to make up schoolwork. So I jump out of bed with my ducky pajamas on and get a bowl of cereal and a MunchOn cereal, and.
My younger brother, Xander, he comes down the hallway and he goes, Hazel, we should go to the sledding hill. And we have a sledding hill that’s maybe six blocks from our house. It’s not the biggest sledding hill, but to us it was the world. So I’m like, Yeah, I’m in. We get our, we start getting our snow stuff on.
I’m getting all my purple snow pans and Xanders just putting on whatever he thinks is necessary.
It’s not much.
And we are standing in our garage waiting for the door to open with our little metal saucers by our sides, and we’re about to step into the light. And our mom, she runs out of the house and she goes, Guys, guys, you forgot your helmets. And she plops my white little ski helmet on my head in Xander’s green ski helmet on his, And then she’s like, Okay, you’re, you’re good to.
And so we start walking to the sledding hill. We’re just trudging through the new snow. It’s like, and our mom, she’s somewhere behind us. And then sledding hill, it’s at the end of a cul-de-sac, and this cul-de-sac is, There’s a couple houses inside of it. There’s usually cars parked around them, but all the cars they move.
They don’t wanna have kids sliding and hitting the cars. So we’re hiking up this hill and we get to the midway point and the midway point is leveled off a little more, and we start, Xander turns to me and he goes, Hazel, it’s the day we’re gonna build that sledding jump, and. . He grabs a saucer full of snow and he dumps it at my feed and he goes, Hazel, start building
And I’m like, Okay. And I start making this cheese wedge of a jump facing the cul-de-sac. That’s about to my eight year old height and knees. And we’re almost done with this jump. Just one more salsa full of snow and it’s done. And we turn around and start walking up the hill and I turn around and look at this beautiful jump and this kid can’t be more than three years old, comes and sits on it.
That beautiful jump that we just spent a good five minutes making
it’s gone. And so we walked back our three steps down to where the jump used to be Quick. Rest in peace. And then we start to build another jump, and this one is bigger and better. It’s about to my eight year old tall waist, and we’re finishing up this jump. We’ve fenced off the area with some snow and our saucers and Xander, he turns to me and he goes, Hazel, we’re ready.
And so he hikes to the top of the hill. And he yells Geronimo and he jumps onto his knees and rockets down the hill and he hits the jump and he flies and he is soaring. And then he hits the snow and he looks back at me and tumbles off full on face plant. And he turns back and he looks at me double thumbs up.
Hazel, I’m okay. And I’m like, Okay, working up the courage. I gotta, I’m okay. I can do this. And I jump on my little red saucer butt down and zoom down the hill and I hit the jump and I’m flying. And it’s so amazing for all the people that jump. S like skis or bikes, it is just amazing. And then I hit the snow and I’m okay.
But so I start to turn and so now I’m facing the jump and I’m fine though, but I’m fine. Xander’s somewhere off to my now left and I’m just thinking that was pretty fun. I’ll do it again. But then just clonk and it all goes black and I open my eyes, or I think they’re open, blink a couple times and I’m like, Okay, I don’t know what happened, but I think I’m okay.
And I hear my mom and she goes, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel. Are you okay? Are you alive? Are you not decapitated? And I’m like mumbling a little bit and I kind of try to pull my way, the direction I came from. And then I see it, the light. The first thought I have is, um, did I die? Is this heaven? But now it can’t be because it smells awful.
And I crawl into the light and I stand up and I just brush myself off. And I look to my mom and she grabs my cheek and she’s expect inspecting me. And she goes, Hey, Zza, are you okay? Are you okay? And I’m like, Yeah, mom, I’m okay. And she. She’s like, Okay, okay. Heart attack of the day, got that over with. And she’s like, Okay, I think we should go now.
It’s okay. And I turned to her and I go, But I don’t, I don’t wanna go. That was amazing. I wanna do it again. And she turns to me and she goes, Hazel, you just got taco folded in half under the side of a pickup truck. And I turn around and sure enough this big gray diesel pickup truck is just chilling there.
Like it totally didn’t just get in the way of this beautiful moment. That was very rude.
And so I’m like, fine. Eight year old attitude and we start trudging back home. Xander’s, he’s throwing a fit because he didn’t do anything wrong. He wants to keep sledding and we’re walking home, dragging my sauce. Or I’m just arms, one arm crossed. My mom goes, Okay. Um, that was a bit too close. I don’t think we’re gonna go back.
Hazel. Um, I, I look at her dead in the eyes with sadness and anger and I’m like, Why? Why’d you have to do this to me? I thought this was, this was the best idea ever and you just had to ruin it. How could. . And so we walk home, I open the door, greet my dogs, and start taking off all my gear, like purple snow pants, blue jacket, white helmet.
And I look at the back of this white helmet that I’ve had since I started skiing. And on the back of it, there is a giant deep gash. Where I split under the truck where my brains would have spilled out if I didn’t listen to my mother. So thank you, Mom. I’m alive today now.
Thanks Hazel. Hazel is a 12 year old who lives in Missoula. She has a younger brother and a. She enjoys mountain biking, skateboarding, and playing ice hockey. She’s attending Washington Middle School as a seventh grader. In her free time, she has curled up with a good book or watching Grey’s Anatomy with her mom.
Pretty great stories, right? I’ll bet you have a story to share. I’ll bet you do, and I’ll bet that you have a story to share on the theme. It’s the little things. The next tell us something. Live event is scheduled for December 15th at the Wilma in Missoula. Why not participate? Pitch your story on the theme.
It’s the little things by calling 4 0 6 2 0 3 4 6 8 3. The pitch deadline is November 7th. I look forward to hearing from you soon. I’ll call you as soon as I get your pitch.
everyone. My name is Taylor Beby. I’m a Tellis Something volunteer, and I’m here to thank our sponsors. Thanks again to our title sponsor, The Good Food Store.
Learn more about the Good Food [email protected]. Thank you to our stewardship sponsor, Missoula Electric Cooperative. The Tell Us Something stewardship program gives away free tickets to people who may. For whatever reason, not have otherwise been able to attend the event. Learn more about the Missoula Electric co-op and see if you qualify to join [email protected].
Thanks to our storyteller sponsor, Clearwater Credit Union. Because of them, we were able to pay the storytellers. And Clearwater Credit Union is where, Tell us something. Trust them with all of our financial needs. Learn more about Clearwater Credit [email protected]. And thanks to our accessibility sponsor Garden mother, because of their generosity, we can provide ASL interpreters for our friends and the deaf community.
Learn more about Garden mother Garden mother.com. Thanks to our media sponsors, Missoula events.net Sushi Hana the first best sushi bar in the last best place. Find out more and have a look at the [email protected]. Missoula Broadcasting company, including the family of ESPN Radio, the Trail, 1 0 3 0.3, Jack FM and Missoula source for modern.
Taylor. Hi, it’s Joyce
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Learn more and see some examples of my [email protected].
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Next week, join us for the concluding stories from the Letting Go Live storytelling.
would be also
able to see, I think, how much I like the quality of things.
and simple, this house, but everything is well done.
She goes, Can we do it again? I was like, Yeah.
We meet Matthew, our mortician, and Matthew looks like, or reminds me of Lurch from the Adams family.
ties and tuxedos
and crushed velvet dresses
We are in jeans and t-shirts.
Tune in for those stories.
On the next tell us something. Podcast. Thanks to Cash. For Junkers who provided the music for the podcast, find them at cash for junkers band.com. To learn more about, tell us something, please visit, tell us something.org