Warm Sweater: The Moth Podcast

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Welcome to The Moth. I'm Mark Sollinger. I don't know about you, but in that weird last week of the year, that time between Christmas and January 1st when the holidays have sort of ended but haven't really ended, When you're excited about the new year, but also dreading it a little bit. In that strange, liminal space, I have very particular requirements for the art I watch or listen to. I want things to be comfy.

I want everything to work out in the end. And I want to feel like I'm wrapped up in a warm sweater. So on this episode, we've got three stories that'll feel like you're putting on a cozy, oversized... ever-so-warm sweater. First up is Christy Arnett Moreno, who told this at an LA Grand Slam where the theme was blessings in disguise. Here's Christy, live at the month.

So I'm 20 years old and at college soccer practice, waiting to run sprints and frankly to try to kick my teammates' asses. The whistle blows and we're off. I'm pumping my arms and suddenly I feel a searing pain. It feels like there is a bear inside my stomach trying to claw its way out. I try to push through, but I can't. And I collapse to the ground, and instinctively I put my hands over where it hurts. And there, under my skin, is a hard lump that feels as big as a golf ball.

The team doctor tells me I need to go to the ER, but I'm supposed to meet my super hot new boyfriend. So... So... I call him and I say, Andrew, I need to go to the ER. I'm so sorry. I know we're supposed to talk because... Well, recently we'd been having some fights. He'd been picking fights because he had all of these specific requests like hold my hand once in a while and please don't make jokes when we're trying to have a serious conversation.

Honestly, I find these like pretty unreasonable, but I call him and I'm like, I got to go to the ER and I have to see you later. But he insists on coming and he's like, Christy. This is serious. And I'm like, Andrew, I know this is serious. It seriously sucks that we're going to miss 10 cent wing night. I really like buffalo wings. Okay, so he's right. I make jokes at inappropriate times because I am really uncomfortable with really difficult emotions. I grew up with a tiger mom who...

I mean, her only real physical affection was a firm pat on the back on a job well done. But the one thing she did teach me was how to be tough. So when we get to the hospital... and the doctor points to the black and white ultrasound screen and says that there is a mass growing on my ovary, that it's likely cancerous, and that it needs to be removed immediately. I keep a straight face and a set jaw.

And it isn't until a few days later when I'm being wheeled away from Andrew and into the surgery room that I allow myself to feel what I'm really feeling, which is that I am terrified of dying. As the anesthesia burns my throat, I have this final hazy thought of like, what if I don't wake up? While I'm asleep, the surgeon makes an incision from the top of my pubic bone all the way to my belly button.

to remove what is now the size of a softball cancerous tumor along with my right ovary and part of my left so that someday, hopefully, I can still have children. When I wake up, Andrew's standing above me, and my thoughts are like, first of all, awesome. I'm still alive, and Andrew's eyes look like milk duds. To recover, Andrew takes me to his apartment, and as soon as we get there, I walk into the bathroom, but I get lightheaded, so I grab both sides of the sink to balance myself.

Andrew knocks on the door and pushes it open, and he sets my prescriptions on the counter next to me. It's like a couple bottles of painkillers and a package of Dulcolax, because apparently your first bowel movement after surgery is a big deal. For those of you who don't know what Dulcolax suppositories are, congratulations, you've never had to put a pill in your butthole to help you poop. So...

I'm a little embarrassed, but I cover it up by being tough. And I'm like, I don't need any of the pain meds. I'm fine, which is kind of a lie. But honestly, I'm just exhausted and feel disgusting for my hospital stay. All I want to do is shower. So Andrew goes to leave, but then stops and asks, do you need help? And at first I want to say no. I want to say no because I'm afraid if I need him that I will be a burden.

I'm afraid to show who I am. And most of all, I'm also afraid of like, what if he doesn't like what he sees? My body is bloated beyond recognition. I have Frankenstein staples holding my skin together. But then I remember aren't I more afraid of dying without ever truly letting anyone in? And so I say yes, I need help. Andrew takes a deep breath and nods and he walks behind me and I wait for him to pull my shirt over my head. But then I hear a crackling of a package.

And I turn around, and he's standing there with a suppository pinch between his fingers. I'm like, no, wait, what are you doing? And he's like, I don't know, I was helping. And I'm like... taking a shower you guys he was willing to and I'm not like not in a fun way you know so So I, so I allow, so he peels out, so we're just laughing and I'm laughing so hard that I'm like crying and I'm crying because it hurts and then I'm.

And then as he peels off my shirt and my shorts and my iodine and bloodstained leggings, I cry because I am exposed in all of the ways. He runs the water hot and I hold his hand. as I step into the shower. He rubs shampoo in my hair and the suds and the tears fall down my skin. And it is the first time that I allow someone to see the parts of me that I worried were unlovable and let them.

beloved. I vow to never settle for anybody who isn't willing to get their hands dirty, so to speak. Sixteen years later, I'm at home and I hear my husband yelling across the house, we got a code brown! So I run around the corner and there he is, Andrew. He's elbow deep in poop, holding our baby boy who's laughing. who just had a massive blowout. And I roll up my sleeves and dive in, because that's what you do when you love someone.

That was Christy Arnett Moreno. Christy is a writer, YouTube filmmaker, and former professional poker player. She tells stories about risk, love, and resilience, and is currently writing her debut memoir about how poker taught her.

to stay courageous when everything around her fell apart. I'm actually recording this episode while dressed in a warm sweater. Sweaters are basically all I wear between the months of September to March, maybe even a little bit longer. This sweater, however, is special because my partner knitted it for me. It's so warm and so beautiful and sort of makes me look like a psychedelic reindeer herder, which is a vibe I adore. But the real reason that I'm...

so comfortable in it is because somebody I love made it just for me. I guess it's a reminder that however cold the world outside is the people who care about you can keep you warm. Sorry, that's a little sappy, but it is the week between Christmas and New Year's. Our next story is all about the importance of family and the people you love. Steve Ettinger told this at a Denver Story Slam. where the theme of the night was snooping. Here's Steve, live at the Moth.

My roommate and I had been living together for about four months when we went out to dinner to celebrate her milestone birthday. She was turning 90. On my own, it would have taken a couple minutes, but... With Ella, it was more like an expedition, walking with someone. as fragile as ella in new york city was like being in that scene in a movie where two caterers are carrying a giant cake and the question isn't if it will fall but when and which wacky antic will knock it to the ground and so

I had to protect Ella and I had to keep her upright. Also because she was more my landlord than a roommate. And she was also my great aunt. When I first moved to New York eight years earlier, I would meet up for dinner with Ella every few months. And like any good Jewish mother, she loved to pry. She would ask me about my family, about work, and inevitably about my dating life. And her favorite way to start any sentence was by saying, I know it's none of my business, but...

And when I moved into her spare bedroom at first, it was more of the same type of questions. But as we started to get into a routine and we started to have dinner together every single night. after we watched Jeopardy, it started to take on something different because the questions had more time and space to become more specific and more intimate. And she would say,

Stephen, I can ask you this because I'm not your mother. And then again, she would tell me to ask me about work and about my dating life. And every night, if my personal life was a car, every night she looked under the hood whether or not I wanted to.

But I actually loved it because it went both ways. When I was growing up, Ella was like my third grandmother, but at that age she was more like a character in my life story than a real person. And once we started sitting together for dinner every night, I started asking her questions.

and I learned about how she grew up in Brooklyn and about her immigrant parents who owned a shoe store and I learned how much she regretted quitting her job after she got married I learned her takes on pop culture like they Gregory Peck wasn't really that big of a deal. And I learned that she thought her neighbor Andy was the nicest guy in the world, but also kind of a piece of work.

And over time, I really just started to enjoy it. It felt less like a family interrogation and more like having dinner with a friend, even though she had been an AARP member for longer than I'd been alive. And it was going really great until one day I came home from work early. A lesson I learned in college the hard way was that you should never surprise a roommate in a living situation. This happened when I walked in on my freshman dorm mate.

with his pants around his ankles in a moment of self-pleasure, and we couldn't make eye contact for the rest of the semester, which I was less worried about that specific thing with Ella as much as it's just never... a good idea to surprise somebody of that age and so as i came in the door i made a lot of noise and i yelled at hi ella i'm home And she didn't answer, which wasn't surprising because a lot of times the TV would drown out my voice, but I didn't hear the TV either.

And so I called out again, Ella, I'm home, and she didn't answer, and I went into the living room, and she wasn't in the chair that she was always in, no matter what, she was in that chair. And then I looked down the hall and I saw that her bedroom door was open and the light was on. And I thought, fuck. Because the worst part about having a 90-year-old roommate is the possibility that you will no longer have a 90-year-old roommate.

And so I checked the kitchen first just to do due diligence, and then I started to make my way down the hall past the wall of family photos, and I was having these conversations in my mind of what I would tell her daughters and my parents and the paramedics and the whole time.

I'm making more noise and clapping my hands and it was kind of like once when a raccoon was in my garage and I was trying to Scare it out by making a lot of noise and I kept calling out to her and she wasn't answering and so very very slowly I peeked my head into the bedroom and I saw her unmade bed, but she wasn't in it

But the bathroom door was open and the light was on in there. And again, I was like, fuck. And I thought of these conversations again and how the next day I would say to somebody, yeah, that's where I found her. Yeah, just like Elvis. And very slowly I pushed the door open and she wasn't in there either. An hour later when she walked into the apartment after having gone to a late lunch with her friends.

I was sitting on the carriage couch like a parent whose teenager has come home way past curfew. And I wanted to scold her for not leaving a note, and then I remembered that it was her apartment and that she... was an adult and had been one since before World War II. So instead, I helped her with her coat, and we sat down and we watched Jeopardy! and then Antique Roadshow.

And then we sat down to dinner and I was excited and eager to ask her about her lunch and other questions that frankly were none of my business. Thank you. That was Steve Ettinger. Steve lives in Frisco, Colorado, where he works as a bartender. His hobbies include collecting antique trophies and putting hats on his dog. Ella passed away last year at the age of 96.

a few months after Steve told this story. He says that she remains the best roommate he ever had. After the break, a story about a literal warm sweater. Be back in a moment. DSW's semi-annual sale is back. Take 50% off all clearance shoes in stores for a limited time. Literally every single clearance item at your designer shoe warehouse store is on sale right now. Sneakers, boots, dress shoes.

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Trusted by the world's best chefs, so you can bring your best. Vitamix. Only the essential. Welcome back. Now, up next, we've got a story that does feel like a warm sweater, but... does also involve an actual warm sweater. Jonathan Mannheim told this at a Chicago Story Slam where the theme was ended. Here's Jonathan, live at the moment.

So in 2011, I had a sweater that was... One sweater. It was an argyle sweater. It was a rainbow argyle sweater. It was pretty hideous. Every diamond was a different color, and it was bad enough that... My girlfriend at the time asked me to stop wearing it out with her friends. So I should have retired this sweater, but I didn't retire this sweater. So one day, I guess it was November.

It was laundry day. I don't know. I wore it. I thought I'm just going to run some errands. I took the train downtown. I'm getting off at Monroe and An elderly woman gets punched in the face, and they steal her phone, and they run off the train. And a week, literally a week before, I was on the train at Cermak, Chinatown, and another man got punched in the face, and they took his phone, and they ran off the train, and I did nothing. So a week later...

happens again and I sort of snapped so I run off the train I have no plan I'm wearing this terrible argyle sweater I'm I had left the house thinking luckily no one will see me today and I go up the escalator and I scream at these two teenagers, I guess they were, please stop. And they laughed, they literally laughed at me. And then they took off down State Street. And so my plan at this point is, hey, I can outrun them.

So we're running south on State Street. I call the police. I'm like, hey, I'm following these two thieves. They've taken an iPhone. I'm on State. Now I'm on Wabash. Could you guys come? And so we're having this conversation and I'm like signaling people like, hey, could you trip them? Could you stop them? They've stolen a phone. But I'm wearing this terrible sweater and no one is taking me seriously.

I look ridiculous. We hit Wabash and Monroe, and a guy with a star, I was like, thank God it's a sheriff. And I'm like, hey, they're thieves. And he's like, dude, I'm a Marshall Fields cop. I can't do anything. So we keep running. They go into an H&M, and then it's like a sitcom. They push down the clothes, and I fall over them. And we run out of the H&M.

And they run into the subway, and they hop the turnstile, and I pay. And then... Because I didn't want to get in trouble. So then they... they catch the train going south and they they got away from me because they were on the train going south so i like go up the stairs and actually it's been like five minutes and the cops are there and i'm like oh thank god i'm the guy who called um

And so then they put me in the back of the cop car and they're like, are they on the train? I'm like, are they on the train? So we go like 100 miles an hour to Roosevelt. And seriously, for four blocks, we go 100 miles an hour. or i don't know and then we they're like just hang on i'm gonna we're gonna slow roll the train to the station and so they they slow roll it and they're like just hang in the back here we're gonna um

We're going to bring them up and you can ID them. And so they bring them up and I'm like, is this them? And I'm like, yeah, that's them. He's like, oh, great job. And then he's like, one sec. And he closes the cop door and he says, oh, shit. and then I'm locked in the back of the cop car and he had left his keys in the ignition so I'm on like Staten Roosevelt for an hour we're blocking every lane of traffic and all these

Cops are knocking on the window like, good job, man, we'll get you out in a bit. So later that night, or that afternoon, they take me to the police station, which I think is on... I think there was one I stayed in 18th. And they actually were taking photos of me as a witness. And so I had this terrible Argyle sweater. which were later used in a court case. So that was the last time I ever wore that sweater. Thank you.

That was Jonathan Mannheim. Jonathan is a doctor in Chicago specializing in infectious diseases. He likes biking, running, and backyard-grown vegetables. He lives with his wife, Lizzie, their two sons, and their two cats. Jonathan tells us that he, unfortunately, got rid of the infamous sweater a while ago. However, he says that if he hadn't, he thinks folks these days would appreciate it for all its Technicolor glory.

That brings us to the end of our episode. Thank you to our storytellers for sharing with us, and to you for listening. From all of us here at The Moth, have a warm sweater of a week. Christy Arnett Moreno's story was coached by Michelle Jalowski. Mark Sollinger is the podcast producer of The Moth, the co-creator of the audio dramas Archive 81 and Conversations with Ghosts.

a lover of museums, and someone who feels very strange reading his own bio. This episode of the Moth Podcast was produced by Sarah Austin Janess, Sarah Jane Johnson, and me, Mark Sollinger. The rest of the Moss leadership team includes Sarah Haberman, Christina Norman, Marina Cloutier, Jennifer Hickson, Jordan Cardinale, Caledonia Cairns, Kate Tellers, Suzanne Rust, and Patricia Ureña.

The Moth Podcast is presented by Odyssey. Special thanks to their executive producer, Leah Reese Dennis. All Moth stories are true, as remembered by their storytellers. For more about our podcast, information on pitching your own story, and everything else, go to our website, themoth.org.