♪ ALISON SMITH: It was like this song my dad had been singing to me since the day I was born stopped, and there was just silence.

TAE CHONG: I'm an Asian immigrant living in Maine and you want me to pay the flute?

Haven't I suffered long enough?

(laughter) And by morning, my father was driving east with thousands of dollars in his pocket, heading home.

WES HAZARD: Tonight's theme is, "You Can't Pick Your Family."

ANNOUNCER: This program is made possible in part by contributions from viewers like you.

Thank you.

HAZARD: Tonight's theme is, "Can't Pick Your Family."

And when I heard that, my first thought-- no lie-- was, "Ain't that the truth," right?

(laughter) It's a weird fact of the human condition that, you know, these people who have a profound effect on us in every single way from birth-- you know, whether it be our well-being, our temperament, our fortunes, our misfortunes-- and you have absolutely no say in who these people are.

♪ SMITH: My name is Alison Smith and I live in Northampton, Massachusetts, and I am a writer.

HAZARD: So from your perspective, what does storytelling on the stage offer you that writing might not?

SMITH: The great thing about storytelling on the stage is, you're just-- you're not alone.

Writing is a very solitary profession, and when you're on the stage, everybody's right there giving you an immediate response or feedback.

And... that does change the story.

HAZARD: And I just have to ask, the story that you're going to share with us tonight, is there anything in particular or in general that you would like the audience to take away from it?

SMITH: Sometimes you just don't know when the story's over.

You think, "Oh, boy, that was bad.

(Hazard chuckles) Now it's over."

And then more stuff happens.

And then it changes again.

So I think, you know, the story, the moral of the story is, maybe just, like, stay open, be patient.

You don't know what's coming next.

♪ When I was a child, my father woke me every morning with the bones of St. Gerard and the bones of St. John Neumann.

They were relics.

They were these discs of copper about yea big, and over the top of them they had a glass plate.

And underneath that glass plate there was a small pile of white powder.

The powder?

The pulverized bone of the saint.

So you probably guessed I was raised Catholic, yeah.

(laughter) Yeah.

But you know, there are a lot of ways to be Catholic now.

And we were not so much, you know, pope-Vatican Catholic as we were kind of... in the Church of Dad.

(laughter) I thought I would never lose my faith in God.

I thought I was His favorite.

And then, something happened.

When I was 15, my brother Roy died in a car accident.

And in an instant, God was gone.

It was like this music I had been hearing my whole life, this song my dad had been singing to me since the day I was born stopped, and there was just silence.

But we had to go on.

So I did.

And two years later, I fell in love.

With a classmate at my school.

But I attended an all-girls Catholic school, so...

I was gay!

I didn't believe in God!

And now I was gay!

(light laughter) When my parents found out, they disowned me.

I couldn't believe it.

I, I just thought, "No, you just can't unpick me.

You can't do that, can you?"

It turned out you could.

And the silence grew.

For a long time, for years, I didn't have contact with my parents, and then I got a phone call.

My mom was sick, she was-- she was dying, so I went to see her.

"Hey, Ma.

"Uh... what, what do you think?

Do you think maybe now you could accept me?"

But she couldn't, and she died.

And more years passed, and I got another phone call, and my father had Alzheimer's, so I went to see him.

"Hey, Dad!

Uh... Hi, there, how, how's it going, Dad?"

And he just looked at me, from the top of my head down to my feet, back up again.

And then he said... "Where you been?

I've been looking all over for you!"

(laughter) (Smith laughs, applause) I know.

It turned out my dad forgot he was homophobic.

(laughter) Yeah.

But he hadn't forgotten me, and over the next four years, we just had the best time.

I think we ate a million ice cream sundaes, and we took these long rambling walks all over the grounds at the nursing home where he lived.

And he just, he loved my partner, Cindy.

He couldn't remember her name, but any time she left the room, his face would fall, and he'd look around, and he'd say, "Where'd the other one go?"

(laughter) Oh, and he loved shopping for clothes.

All of a sudden, my dad, men's clothes, women's clothes, he wanted to go shopping.

So one day, Dad and I are in Marshall's, shopping for new shirts for him, and this crazy summer storm just breaks out of nowhere.

And even though we're inside, we can hear the rain on the roof, and we can see the sky getting darker through the doors at the front of the store.

And I look over at my dad, and his eyes are huge.

And he's-- he's just shaking all over, and he drops the shirts that he's holding and he starts pacing all over the store.

And everyone is looking at him, and then looking at me, and they're sort of, like, "Um, do something."

And, and I realize my dad, he doesn't get it.

He doesn't know this is just weather.

But it's 6:00, and we have to get back to the nursing home, and they don't want us in this store anymore.

So I take his hand, and together we walk out through the automatic double doors into the parking lot, and it is worse than I imagined.

It's one of those summer storms that kind of does feel like the world is gonna end.

There's, like, a pitch-black sky, the thunder is so loud, and it's coming down like somebody's just pouring buckets of water on us.

But I just hold on tighter to my dad's hand, and I say, "Dad, we're gonna make a run for it!"

And I head straight for the car.

We get halfway there and there is a huge clap of thunder, and my father just lets go of my hand and runs away from me.

He runs out into the traffic.

And I-- I'm terrified, and so I run after him, and he runs away from me.

And I'm standing there, soaking wet in the middle of traffic, crying, and I just think, "I cannot lose you again."

So I take a breath, I close my eyes, and I say, "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee!"

And when I opened my eyes, my dad had stopped running.

"Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb!"

He turns around and he looks right at me.

"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners."

He walks over and he stands right next to me.

And I get his hand and I get him into the car.

Inside the car, the sound of the rain on the roof is so loud, but I can still hear my heart beating-- pounding.

And I look over at my dad, and I say, "Dad, Dad, are you okay?"

And he's just sitting there quietly.

He's, like, "Yeah, I'm fine, let's go."

(laughter) I said, "Dad, I was-- I was terrified!

I mean, the rain, the, the storm, the traffic!"

And he's, like, "Uh, look at the time.

We gotta go-- what are you talking about?"

I said, "Dad, Dad, I just was so scared.

I was-- I was scared that I was going to lose you again."

And he looked at me and he said, "I would never leave you.

You will never lose me."

And I looked at my dad and I thought, "That's right.

"That's right.

He will never leave me."

Thank you.

(applause) ♪ CHONG: My name is Tae Chong, and I live in Portland, Maine.

My family moved there in 1976 from Korea.

Portland back then, in 1976, was fairly white.

I was the only kid of color, and I ended up wanting to get out, but Portland was really popular, is really popular now, and so I stuck around.

I wanted to help people, and so that's what I've been doing really for the past 25 years.

I've been an advocate for immigrants and refugee, and people of color in Portland, Maine.

HAZARD: You talked about your family.

Do you have storytellers in your family?

CHONG: My mother's a great storyteller, but it's not so much the stories she tells, it's how she tells the stories.

So in Korean, a lot of the stories are about inflection.

So she might say, like, you know, she might say, "Oh, that water is delicious."

But the inflection changes the whole story.

So in Korean she might say... (speaking Korean) Or-- (speaking Korean with stronger inflection) So like that kind of inflection changes everything.

As a kid, trying to figure out who you are, I was always listening and trying to figure out what the stories are about, and how that has an impact on me.

HAZARD: So for tonight's story, what do you hope that the audience takes away from it after you've shared it?

CHONG: I hope that people realize that the immigrant experience isn't any different than anyone else's experience.

We're all trying to go through life, trying to figure out who we are as a family, what our identities are, and how we fit into this whole continuum of family and community.

And I think that story has a lot of layers where people can see bits and pieces of themselves in it.

♪ I remember the night I picked out my musical instrument.

I was in the third grade.

My parents, my older brothers, and I, we went to the local elementary school gym to listen to the music salesman talk about the benefits of your child playing a musical instrument.

Ever since the airplane touched down in the U.S., my mother leaned over and said, "We sacrificed everything so you three can get an education."

No pressure.

(laughter) My parents only made it to the third and sixth grade, so they didn't know about the U.S. education system, but they had heard of Harvard and Yale.

(light laughter) So their ears picked up when the music salesman said, "Having your child play a musical instrument can help them get into Harvard and Yale."

(laughter) My mother leaned over and said loudly enough for us to hear, "Oh.

"Harvard and Yale.

(light laughter) "That is in line with our child and our goals.

Where do we sign up?"

My parents were blue-collar working people.

My father smelt of burnt leather, and he was still dusty from the boat yard where he worked.

My mother was yawning.

It was only 7:00 p.m. She had to get up at 4:00 to do the laundry, to make and pack lunch for her family, before she headed out for a ten-hour shift at a local clothing manufacturing company in Portland.

I was ten years old.

I was oblivious to all of this.

All I knew was, ever since I heard Chuck Mangione play "Give It All You Got" at the 1980 Winter Olympics... (laughter) ...the trumpet was for me.

I fell in love with the trumpet.

For a week, I walked around the house playing air trumpet.

(laughter) The music salesman finished his pitch and gave everyone a packet full of pamphlets and a sign-up sheet.

That night, my family, we had a meeting.

This was a big deal.

My father and mother sat in their seats next to the wood stove, and my brothers sat on the couch, and I sat on the floor.

My father turned to me and asked me which instrument I wanted to play.

This had never happened before.

My father never asked me for my opinion.

This was my chance... ...to be Chuck Mangione.

(laughter) He was still popular, and his music was on the radio, and in every dentist's office across the country.

(laughter) If I played the trumpet, and I played in the Olympics, I would achieve the dream of every immigrant parent-- a Harvard Olympian.

(laughter) What self-respecting immigrant parent would deny their child this dream, let alone an Asian immigrant parent?

I sat up straight and I said, "Trumpet."

I just let that hang in the air.

I said, "Dad, I want to play the trumpet."

No hesitation.

Done.

My father looked at the sign-up sheet and my oldest brother interpreted that it would cost $30 a month.

A little steep.

But worth paying, if your son could be the next Chuck Mangione.

My father looked at the prices of the other instruments and he picked the most reasonable and affordable one.

The flute.

(laughter) My father said, "You'll have to play the flute.

I don't think your little lungs can take playing the trumpet."

Little lungs?

(laughter) Too hard?

I'm an Asian immigrant living in Maine and you want me to play the flute?

(laughter) Haven't I suffered long enough?

(laughter) My dreams of being Chuck Mangione were dashed, and I envisioned all the kids ridiculing me at school.

They all thought I was Chinese, and now they'll think I'm girly-- and Chinese.

(laughter) I pictured all the bullying and teasing I would get, and I started to cry.

My mother, she hugged me.

My oldest brother said, "Maybe, maybe we can pick something else."

My parents and older brother went into the kitchen and I sat there dumbfounded in the living room.

My middle brother, he held my hand.

A few minutes later, they all came back, and my father said, "Son, we can't afford to pay for the trumpet.

But maybe you can play the clarinet."

I was ten years old.

I just wanted to be cool.

But I realized my family loved me, and they did the best they could with what they had.

So for the next three years, I sat in the first row in band wearing a blue blazer and a white turtleneck, flanked by pubescent girls, squeaking and squawking my way through "Greensleeves" and "Heartlight" by Neil Diamond.

(laughter) What could be better than that?

Thank you.

(cheers and applause) ♪ ROSE SAIA: My name is Rose Saia, and I grew up in Boston.

I work part-time for a local food pantry and community supper as an operations person, and I also do storytelling on the side.

I teach workshops, coach people, and tell stories.

HAZARD: What kind of stories do you like to tell, do you like to share on the stage?

SAIA: I really think about my story choice.

I started out telling stories about when I was a kid growing up in Boston, and I think they really resonate for me because I had an unusual life.

A lot of things happened to me that were really difficult, and when I thought about what I wanted to offer in stories, I really had to think about, what did it do to me?

How did it shape my life?

And more important, what does that say about other people who may have had some of the same struggles?

HAZARD: What do you do to work on and develop your craft?

Any practices that you do to get better as you keep on doing this?

SAIA: The first thing I do is, I really look at the storytellers who I admire.

What makes that storyteller great?

What's their word choice?

How do they bring somebody into a moment?

So I'm always looking at phrasing, and just the way I put a story together.

And of course, then I just make myself go do it.

♪ One night at dinner, when I was about seven years old, my father, who was the sales manager at Pontiac, said he wanted to quit his job because he wanted to have his own business.

He had found an old garage on West Broadway next to the courthouse in South Boston, and he said he could buy it for a song, which stopped the conversation right away because I wanted to know how songs actually bought things.

So once they explained that to me, my mother pulled me into her lap and she said, "Oh, your father's going to have his own car business."

And my father winked at me, and he said, "Oh, it's gonna be better than that.

I'm gonna build a bowling alley."

And my mother dropped me out of her lap so fast, my chin almost hit the table.

(laughter) Now, the garage was next to the courthouse, and my father had noticed that all day, young men from South Boston were just walking in and out of that courthouse because they were always in trouble.

Because in Southie in those days, there was nowhere to go and nothing to do.

He thought if he built a bowling alley, it would give the kids some place to go, it would be a good business, and the downstairs could have two garage bays where he and my brother could fix cars-- my brother was 17.

And there was a space for a coffee shop, and he thought my mother could run the coffee shop.

"It'll be a family business," he said.

And it kinda was.

My mother decided she was going to keep her job as a seamstress because somebody had to bring in a steady paycheck.

But my brother and my father did fix cars down in that garage, and he did get the bowling alley going.

And because my brother and my family-- we were Italian Catholics, but we were living in an Irish Catholic town-- my brother started the Holy Name Bowling League, and all of the parishioners from Gate of Heaven & Saint Brigid's would come, so the lanes were busy.

And I would bring the people bowling glass bottles of Coke out of the vending machine and just slide down the lanes in my socks.

Now, the space that was put aside for the coffee shop got visited by the people who were next door at the courthouse-- the lawyers, the judges, the politicians, people going in to court, because they went there to play poker.

And the business was doing really well-- the lanes were busy, the poker room was busy all the time-- and it got to the point where my father was spending more time in the poker room than he was in the lanes.

And many nights he just didn't come home at all.

And it was one morning after he had been out all night, I was in the kitchen eating my breakfast, when he came in and he motioned to my mother that he wanted to talk to her out in the hall.

And I didn't pay any attention, I was just eating my cereal.

Until I heard my mother's voice say, "What do you mean you lost the house?"

And I jumped off my chair, went out into the hall, and I looked at my father, whose eyes were red-- he had been crying.

He said to my mother, "I bet the business, and I lost.

"So I bet the house to win it back, "and I lost.

I lost them both."

Well, my mother started screaming, and I just put my arms up wanting one of them to just pick me up and tell me it was going to be okay.

But they just pushed me aside because if that wasn't bad enough, my father owed even more money to some really bad people, and he had to leave right away.

So he's in the bedroom throwing clothes in a suitcase, my brother goes in, he's trying to take the clothes out of the suitcase.

I ran over to the stairs to just hide, and the next thing I remember was seeing my father's feet walking by me with his suitcase in his hand.

And when he got to the door, he turned to me and looked up and said, "Be a good girl."

And then he was gone.

And in a few days, we were homeless.

None of the family in the local area wanted to take us in because they were afraid that the bad people who were after my father would come after them.

So in a few days, we found ourselves on a plane to California to stay with family that I really didn't know in a crowded house where we really weren't welcome.

My mother tried to find work as a seamstress, but all she could do was find work as a waitress.

My brother signed up for the Air Force, and I just stopped talking for days.

I was sleeping every night on this nubby couch out in the living room because there was no room for me.

And one night I woke up to the smell of cigarette smoke, and found my mother just sitting there next to me.

And I looked up at her and I said, "Who's going to take care of me when you're gone?"

And in a few days, we were back on a plane.

I didn't know where we were going-- my mother wouldn't tell me.

Until I heard the pilot's voice say, "Welcome to Boston's Logan Airport."

And we walked out of the stairs down on the tarmac, and it was dark, and I looked over, and there was my father standing there.

And he walked out of the darkness, and I just ran into his arms, and he picked me up.

And I felt so at home just breathing in the smell of his Brut cologne.

He looked at my mother and said, "Come on, I have a place for us."

Now, it wasn't our house-- we went to an apartment-- and because I was little, no one really ever explained to me what happened, where did he go?

And so when I was a teenager, I asked him, and he told me that when he walked out that door, he didn't even know where he was gonna go.

He just got in the car and drove west.

Until one night he was crossing the desert, and he saw the sky was just full of all these stars.

And he got out to look at them, and he felt so alone.

He looked up at that sky, and he imagined every star in the sky as someone in the family looking down on him.

And he even named a star after me.

And then he got back in the car, and went to Las Vegas, where he had just enough money to shower and shave, and put on a nice suit, walked out, bought a pack of Luckies, and went into a casino.

(audience murmuring) When he got into that casino he didn't have any money, but he stood behind a man who was playing, and he whispered advice, and that man kept winning over and over again.

And when the man took a break, my father offered him a smoke, and said, "If you loan me $50, I'll give you back your $50 and half of everything I win."

And by morning, my father was driving east with thousands of dollars in his pocket heading home.

I said, "Wait a minute.

"Hold it, hold it.

"You lost the business, you lost the house, "you lost everything in a card game, "and you walk into a casino and you win.

How did you do that?"

He said, "When I was in the desert looking at the stars, "I realized what I had to win for.

"I had to win for you.

"I picked my family instead of running away.

"Because it was the right thing to do.

And amazing things happen when you do the right thing."

Thank you.

(applause) ANNOUNCER: This program is made possible in part by contributions from viewers like you.

Thank you.

♪