Kamilah Kashanie (KK): It can be hard to talk about hope, especially after the year we just had, but also because it can look and feel different for everyone. Sometimes it comes to us in a moment; other times, it takes decades to inspire.
But either way, hope is one of those magic ingredients that can truly change the way we see ourselves and the world around us.
It’s the StoryCorps podcast from NPR. I’m your host Kamilah Kashanie. This week, we’re bringing you four stories from people who found that little bit of magic when they least expected it.
We start things off with Ellen Hughes and Keith Miller. Their paths first crossed in 2018 in Chicago. Ellen was on her way to the ER with her 33-year old son Walker. Walker has autism—and he was having a really bad reaction to a new medication.
When they got to the hospital, Walker got more upset, and he bit Ellen’s arm. That’s when they encountered Public Safety Sergeant Keith Miller.
Ellen Hughes (EH): We were already anticipating what was gonna happen in this emergency room. Because when he was a little boy, an officer got on his back while he was screaming. And he’s been handcuffed to gurneys in emergency rooms…
Keith Miller (KM): Oh, wow.
EH: …just for having a seizure and being big. That day, we show up at a hospital — I’m sitting there broken-hearted, scared out of my mind, bleeding. And Walker’s trying to run away. And I see, like, five guys on him and all I can think is “this will not end well”. But suddenly, I hear this cute game.
KM: Right [laughs]
EH: Where he’s trying to escape and you’re going “Walker gets up. Walker sits down. Walker scoots back. Walker lies down.” And then you said, “High fives all around.” And I thought he won’t do it. And I look and he’s beaming. And he’s high fiving every single officer.
KM: Mmhmm, mmhmm…
EH: And then you started singing… and I thought I would lose it forever.
KM: I started singing Mr Rogers’ neighborhood.
EH: You’re singing Mr. Rogers with these men. And he went from being terrified to feeling like he had cool friends, cool guys hanging out with him.
KM: Yeah… yeah. I saw this man who was dealing with something he just did not understand.
EH: Yes.
KM: And I saw the fear…
EH: Yes.
KM: …in your face. It… it touched me personally. Um, my son is 14. Uh, he was 15 months when he was first diagnosed as being autistic. Being a father of a child who has autism, I don’t know what change is gonna occur in him. And, as parents, we’re there to help them deal with their obstacles. And if we can’t do it by ourselves, there’s other people out there to help. And I want to be one of those other people.
EH: Well, nobody else does what you do. We looked like a very scary situation coming in there. And we turned into a, kinda, party, I think, people wanted to join. I’ve been in a lot of ERs. And some people have been kinda nice. I never sat there and felt like this is one of the most important moments of my life.
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KK: That was Ellen Hughes and Sergeant Keith Miller for StoryCorps in Chicago, Illinois.
Next, a conversation between two brothers.
Growing up, things were rocky between Derrick and Raymond Storms.
Their home life was unstable, and they dealt with that in really different ways. Derrick had a lot of anger, and most of the time, it was aimed at Raymond.
After high school, Derrick joined the Marines and Raymond went to college to study opera. And for a while, it seemed like there was little hope of them building a relationship.
At StoryCorps, Derrick and Raymond sat down to remember how they repaired what was once broken between them.
And a little warning, this one has some cussin’.
Raymond Storms (RS): How would you describe us as kids?
Derrick Storms (DS): Complete opposites.
RS: [Laughs]
DS: Everybody liked you, you know, you would be talking to the elderly neighbor up the street. I was getting in trouble blowing up mailboxes.
RS: I just remember you being so cruel. Like, telling me one day that, “Kids really can fly, but you have to really trust.” So we went on that rickety swing set, and I remember you pushing me, saying, ‘Now jump, and think of a happy thought.’ And I screamed out ‘Pizza.’ And I…I fell into mom’s rosebush. And your response to me was, ‘Oh, because you’re so fat, you should have said two happy thoughts.’
DS: I was really at war with the world. I didn’t know if I would ever be close to anybody.
RS: I feel like our relationship started to shift when we found out that you were gonna be deployed to Iraq.
DS: Mmhm.
RS: And I remember grandma making me call you. And you were like, ‘What?’ And she was looking at me with those dark eyes. And I was like, alright, I’m gonna say something vulnerable. And I said, “I was always envious of you as a kid.” And you were like, so quiet. You said, ‘I’ve always been jealous of you. Everyone wants to be your best friend, and I scare people.’
DS: I think, when you’re faced with your mortality, I began to take the meaningful things in my life more seriously. I remember, we were just getting ready to go into Nasiriyah, and a reporter had a global cell phone, and I said, ‘Do you mind if I make a call on that?’
RS: At that time, I was in music school for opera, and you literally were like, ‘The Marines here don’t believe you’re gonna be the next Pavarotti. Show em! Show em! Sing the National Anthem.’ And they were like, ‘Fucking siiiing! Hoo ha! Hoo ha!’ And I remember just starting to sing, ‘Oooh say can…’ just starting to sing the national anthem. And they went ballistic.
DS: [Laughs]
RS: It was like night and day
DS: Did you ever think we’d be close?
RS: No. You were walking rage. There was so much anger that I had towards you as a child. But I’m grateful for it now, because I forged that into this white-hot steel of love.
DS: I guess I just needed help.
RS: Mm hm.
DS: You need somebody kind of showing you the way, you know, that lighthouse to help you cross over. I’m thankful for you for that.
RS: Seeing you bloom into this, like, sensitive loving human being, there’s no way someone could tell me, like, miracles don’t exist.
DS: It feels a lot better on this side, that’s for sure.
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That was Derrick Storms and his brother Raymond, in Port Saint Lucie, Florida for StoryCorps.
After a short break, how grief gave way to an unlikely friendship. Stay with us.
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KK: Welcome back.
Back in 1994, Lisa Garzone married the then love of her life, John Joyce. Here she is talking about their relationship.
Lisa Garzone (LG): He was the father of my four children and, at one point, my best friend. But John became alcoholic and things got volatile, so we had to have him leave. And he stopped showing up for visits. I tried to follow where he was and I knew that he was homeless — that just always worried me. I didn’t want him to die on the streets.
KK: John eventually got back on his feet. In 2007, he met Megan Smith. At the time, they were both working in homeless advocacy in Rhode Island, and they ended up falling in love.
John died from cancer in 2013. But in his death, a new friendship was born between the two women who loved him the most. Megan starts the conversation.
Megan Smith (MS): I met John while he was homeless and you guys hadn’t been in contact for a bit of time.
LG: It had been eleven or twelve years.
MS: But it was a different place and time in his life. He was sober and about that time he got an apartment. But then he found out that he had cancer. And I met you the day before John died. The reason I didn’t reach out to you sooner was because John didn’t want to do more harm.
LG: I was scared to meet you because I didn’t know what to expect. And I can remember just looking at him and having great sadness. And I kissed him on the forehead, told him that I loved him, and I whispered in his ear that I forgave him. After that it was all about you, not John, because you were losing the man that you loved.
MS: We had a memorial service and you invited me to sit with you and the children. And it was hard, I’m sure, to hear everyone speak positive because you knew another component. But when we got up at the end of the service, your daughter reached out and locked elbows with me.
LG: Yes, she did.
MS: And we walked out of the church, arm-in-arm. And then, I forget which of us reached out to the other one but said, ”You know, we should get together soon.”
LG: We went out to dinner.
MS: Then we sat in the car and talked for like another three hours or something.
LG: Yeah. It was pouring rain out, we got out of the car so I could have a cigarette and then in the pouring rain we just hugged. And I just said, ”I hope that you’ll be a part of our lives.” And you have been ever since.
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KK: That was Lisa Garzone and Megan Smith in 2014.
Before John died, he helped pass a homeless bill of rights in Rhode Island. The law prevents governments, health care workers, employers, and others from treating people who are homeless unfairly because of their housing status.
Our final story starts in Sing Sing prison in 1998. That’s where Robert Sanchez first met Fred Davie. Robert was serving 15 years for a first time, non-violent drug offense. This was an extremely harsh sentence but it was really common under New York’s Rockefeller Drug Laws.
Fred Davie was a minister at the time. The prison had just started a graduate program and Robert was studying to get his Masters in theology.
In 2016, they came to StoryCorps to remember the first time Fred visited his class.
Robert Sanchez (RS): We met at Sing Sing in this small windowless room…
Fred Davie (FD): Yeah exactly.
RS: …which didn’t look like much of an educational setting… (Laughs)
FD: I know… (Laughs)
RS: But that room created magic. I think it was 16 men, most of us were there for about 15-20 years.
FD: I remember being impressed at how well-read you guys were.
RS: Fred, we ain’t have much else to do. (Laughs)
FD: (Laughs) I remember that you said that you had no arrests prior, nothing in your system, and nothing on you, and you got 15 years to life for a non-violent drug charge. But I thought, he’s making that up.
RS: It can’t be possible. (Laughs)
FD: (Laughs) It can’t be possible. Right…
RS: I think I survived it by always having hope. What is life without hope? Even an iota of light can go a long way. And my first impression of you was, here’s this beautiful kind man who, for whatever reason, just represents hope to me.
FD: All these years I never knew this had that much impact on you.
RS: Oh it did Fred, it did.
FD: Huh…
RS: I’ve been home for 16 years now.
FD: Yep.
RS: When I came home I was so afraid, but I knew that I can pick up the phone and tell you, “Fred, I don’t get this shit.”
FD: Right. (Laughs)
RS: I could just ask the dumbest questions ever…
FD: (Laughs)
RS: …but you never told me they were dumb.
FD: For me, I had people in my corner every step of the way. My dad wasn’t there, but if things messed up, no matter where I was, I could always go to my mother’s front porch, and know that I was welcome.
RS: I have that from you, but I didn’t have that from anywhere else, so…
FD: Understood.
RS: You know it’s weird because I’m not your son…
FD: Right. (Laughs)
RS: …but, you know, I didn’t grow up with a father neither. My father died from an overdose. So I saw you as, like, if I had a dad, if I had somebody that was going to guide me, that was you.
FD: Wow, thank you. Most folks who’ve been through what you’ve been through don’t get this far.
RS: Yeah, I’ve got to be reminded every now and then. There are times that I get bitter and angry at my situation. I live a pretty lonely life, and if I’m not careful, I can fall into these doldrums. But just you being there, to be able to listen to me; and say, “You know what, you’re going to be okay.” It’s a tremendous gift, and I’m a lucky man.
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KK: Robert Sanchez with his mentor Fred Davie at StoryCorps in New York City.
After being released from prison in 2001, Robert got a 2nd masters in social work, and he’s spent his career helping people who are coming out of the prison system.
That’s all for this episode of the StoryCorps podcast.
To read about the music we used in this episode, head to www.storycorps.org. While you’re there you can also check out original artwork created by Lindsay Mound.
This episode was produced by Sylvie Lubow and Jud Esty-Kendall, who’s also our editor. Our technical director is Jarrett Floyd, who also wrote our theme song. Natsumi Ajisaka is our fact checker. Special thanks to StoryCorps producers Aisha Turner and Camila Kerwin, and facilitators Roccio Santos, Rochelle Kwan, and Christina Stanton.
For the StoryCorps podcast, I’m Kamilah Kashanie. Catch you next week.