My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 226
Episode Date: May 10, 2021This week’s hometowns include a criminal-chasing mom and a postal worker hero.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-n...ot-sell-my-info.
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Hello and welcome to my favorite murder. Oh, this is the mini-soad. Oh, hi.
Oh, hi. Hi. Want me to go first this week? This is where we read you your emails. What's
happening? Yes. Okay. You want to get right to it? No, you can fucking chat. Chat chat.
Wait a minute. No, no, go ahead. I just meant explain what the show was. But at this point,
we got to figure most people, the odds that someone scrolling through and picking a mini
so randomly are nil probably. That's right. But if you don't know, if you don't know what this is,
mind your own business. That's not right. Yeah, I love it. Karen, it's true. It's true. It's all
true. Okay. This one's called I spilled pee on important paperwork of at least 20 high school
classmates. I feel like I need to start by saying I had a dream the other night that Georgia invited
me to her house to tell her what all her cool vintage stuff was worth because that's what
I do for a living. And you all thought it was so cool. You did a live show from the house while I
was doing it, which is my dream, dude. Come over and fucking. Yes, that's Georgia's dream is for
everyone to come into her house and for all of her life to take place within the four walls of
her house. Oh my God. You just got that so right on. No, my dream is for the antiques roadshow
people to come over and be like, this is this. How does that? Could you imagine if they were like,
don't you know that this is worth $500,000? Oh my God. The dream. Yes. It's the point of
being a collector is to be like, turns out you have a great eye for trash. Your taste for garbage
is unmatched and highly valuable. That insane thing you bought at a garage sale and couldn't
afford rent because of it. It turns out it's worth something. Can I just tell you that I
had a it was like a garage sale that was truly like four doors away from my house. Oh my God.
From my old house. The dream. I found a Teddy Roosevelt walking stick. So like the top of it
is Teddy Roosevelt's head. Oh, it's like wasn't his. No, no. It was like and I'm like this. I
would guess that this was like given away by like gas stations because it's not a quality walking stick.
I think it's made of plastic, but I bought it because I was like, but I know collectors don't
really care if you're a Teddy Roosevelt collector. You just want that walking stick however it was
made. Totally. So that's my retirement fund. Mine is, you know, when airlines were like new
and they were like flyer, you have to fly our airlines will give you shit to fly it. There was
a Japanese flight that would give out these sake bottles, like a kit of them. And of course,
guys, original packaging. So necessary. Oh, you know what I mean? Like it has to be and
things that are in original box. I don't give a shit what's inside. I'll fucking buy it for the
box. A box from like 1963. Oh, my God. Who cares what's inside it? Old Band-Aid. It's this
steel box. I did have an old Band-Aid box that I put playing cards in. My grandma's playing cards.
Wow. This is going. Remember when Band-Aids came in a tin? Yes. Is that what you're talking about?
Yes. Yes. The coolest. The coolest. Yeah. Let's do one of the weirdest, coolest things you found
at garage sales or that you found in your aunt's basement when she passed on. Yes. Right? Or something
that you, you liked. We're basically going to do a podcast of Antiques Roadshow with no one
qualified. We just, it's all by faith. Worth $500. We're going to. Yes. Tell us what you get,
what you buy and then you're like, it turns out it was a Kandinsky. I don't know what that is. Look
at you. I did find in the Jean, in the old Jean jacket I bought just a little tiny scrap of paper
that said victory on it and handwriting and I kept it. Like it doesn't have to be worth anything if
you want to write in. It worked though. Oh no, she's crying silently, everybody. She's crying loudly
silently. That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Yeah. You got some. How old were you
when you got them? I was like 21 and couldn't, literally couldn't afford rent. Yes. That was your,
that was the Lord secretly whispering to you through jeans. I bet there's, if there's some
cool person who works at a vintage shop who always checks the pockets and has found, I mean,
tell us if you found cold hard cash, right? Like washed, rolled up, you know, and cash gets washed
and then it gets real small and crispy. There's gotta be people who are just like, yep, found a bunch
of coke bags of drugs. But like, but like old drugs that don't work anymore. Right. Here we go.
That's so, if you need an explanation for what this is about, we just gave it to you. This is,
if this is the first mini-zone you've ever heard, you're baffled. You're baffled. But this is,
but if you don't like this, then you're never going to listen. Then goodbye. And then find your
own business as Karen said. Yes. Okay. Someone spilled pee and then they want to look at my shit
and then they said, but I was bummed because all I wanted to do is play with cookie.
So I didn't even want to be at my house. It is. So that was still, that was the end of the dream?
Yeah. Got it. Got it. And then they said, is it possible to listen to too much MFM?
Yeah. Never. Always. Never. Anyways, let's get back to my high school days circa about 1994.
All the athletes had to pass physicals in order to participate in school sports. So believe it or
not, they did group physicals. That sounds completely unlikely now, like to be fair, right?
Turn your head, look at the, look at your friend next to you and cough.
Yeah. But also like if you have any like limp or anything wrong with you,
you're fucking banned from school. Athletic. So the good old days. You had to bring your
paperwork, sit in the line, take the eye test and the measurements, including weight in front of
everyone else before being called in to the private exam room for all that other uncomfortable
stuff. Oh, okay. Turn your head and cough. They did this in the theater dressing rooms.
It's intimate. One larger room for the group stuff, two smaller private rooms for the exams.
And you know, it was also a time where it was like the doctor could just go in solo with the
teenager. It didn't have to be like a nurse practitioner in there. There's problems upon
problems. But why didn't they, the good old days were not good. Just old.
Why didn't they think having your weight taken was part of the private thing?
Yeah. 100%. That's no NBD. This is a skinny doctor.
This is shame culture. Like a bad 94, please. Okay. So yeah, picture 13 through 18 year olds
all lined up along the walls of the hallway outside the main room. Once you entered the
main room, they gave you a P cup that you had to all caps walk past 80 or so of your fellow
high school schoolers with empty and return with it full. No, as if it wasn't bad enough,
you were asked to place your warm and hopefully not wet cup of pee on top of your paperwork
on the table with about 20 others. I was so nervous. I set my paperwork down and as I went to place
my P cup on top of it, the nurse grabbed my hand and said, not there. I freaked out and dropped the
P cup. It gets worse. It always does. It's built all over the table and soaked everyone's papers.
You'd think that's the worst of it, wouldn't you? Let me give you the highlights from there.
One, the waning in line took a while. So most kids were dropped off by their parents or drove
themselves, which wouldn't be a big deal except the paperwork required parent signature. So there
was no throwing away of these papers. Oh, no. They made a clothesline and all caps hung them
up to dry. Oh, sorry. Did it say what year this was? 94. It's not like Laura Ingalls Wilder time.
1886. There's no excuse for this. This is literally actionable. Entirely. Every step of this is
actionable. Them sending this email to us has opened them up for a lawsuit. It's like,
not only have you shamed yourself, but then they're hanging up. It's like the scarlet letter that
they're like, yes. Now everyone look at what? Yeah. K. No full name because for obvious fucking reasons.
Okay. It's funny that the, sorry, but it's funny that the initial isn't P.
Classic. Come on. Classic Karen in there with the zingers. I had to stop you to zing and then
step back. It wasn't worthwhile zing. Then it says, I wonder how many of them the high school
students remember a crusty peak covered physical forms that year. Am I the only one still in shock
that they did that? No, we all, everyone's with you now. We're deeply in shock. Uh-huh. Two,
my older brother was in the room when this happened. He had to get a physical two and at that age,
he was a total asshole to me. This is a fucking job, dude. I thought he was going to rake me over
the coals, but instead he was grateful. Why? Because he spent the time, it took them to clean up,
memorizing the eye chart and avoided getting glasses for another year. Look at teenagers.
This was before cell phone number three. This was before cell phones and texts,
but like old fashioned telephone were traveled by the speed of light down that mile long hallway.
And guess who had a walk past every one of them when it was over? The fucking walk of shame.
Like it might as well be a spanking machine. Well, and at that point it might as well have
been that with the original, did you say the real initial is T? Okay. Okay. At that point,
it might as well have been that Kay took their p-cup and threw it at everybody on purpose,
like a monkey at the zoo because, right, it doesn't really matter what the accident was at that
point. It's straight Hannibal Lecter's next door neighbor in cell style. Migs. Migs. That's right.
If you don't know, we're talking about shame on you. Number four, don't worry. I didn't have to
pee in a cup again. They just stuck the test strip on the table before they cleaned it up.
This just keeps getting better and better. Don't waste that waste. Oh my god. Like you
can't pee again for another hour. So you might forget it. So there you go. It's my all time
classic I haven't told in years. I feel like I could write a novel for you guys. I'm known for
weird and crazy shit always happening to me. But since you opened it up to embarrassing moments,
I couldn't hold this one back. I've written in before about my night of the bloody faced man
and the creepy neighbor that broke into my house and stole my underwear. But maybe my spilled cup
of pee will be the one to make the appearance. It did. It did, Kay. Anyway, stay sexy and only
spill pee when no one is watching. Kay. Kay. Kay. Slow clap. I had to start with that one because
it was just so epic. It was big. It was bold. And again, I wanted the new people to know what
this was about. That's right. I mean, if you had to encapsulate what this podcast really is.
The entire podcast. The whole thing. Mini Maxie. Mini Mini. It's that email right there. Thank you,
Kay, for really bringing it home. For simplifying who we are. Deep down. Cups of pee spilled on your...
Also, what grade were they in? Like, how long did that last? If that's the person that peed
everywhere? Oh, you got it. Well, if their older brother was there, that mean they had to be under
17 probably. I would think, right? 13 through 18 year old. So, I mean, it had to be bad.
Sophomore Max. Totally. Okay. Let's see. It's the high bar. It's a high bar to try to reach.
I want to go ahead and thank Jay for giving me that one. What does that mean? Are you mad at him now?
True love, I guess. Fine. I don't care. This subject line is hometown murder plus
bonus postal worker saves the day. Hi, murder quarantinos. Oh, what's up? Why'd that take you
a year but also good job? Hey, someone had a lot of time to think about.
Rachel just nailed it. Okay. Hi, murder quarantinos. First off, love you all so much,
and you make my day every time I listen. I finally found my mini episode niche when you
mentioned postal worker stories and I realized I had to write in. One summer about 10 years
ago, I was waitressing at a local restaurant in the evenings. So most of my mornings, I was free
to do whatever I wanted, but usually you could find me working on my tan in the backyard. Looking
back, I realized that covering myself in baby oil and laying in the sun for hours at a time
was not the best idea for many reasons, but we won't go into that. While I was home alone most
days, I never worried much because my great Pyrenees mountain dog Baxter, who was so giant that one
winter he was mistaken for a polar bear. Baxter's the same kind of dog as Gracie,
which was my sister's dog when Nora was little. Remember the pictures of Nora laying on that
huge dog? Oh, what angels. They're the best dogs. They're like the greatest companions.
Yeah, and I would walk that. I would walk Gracie down to the park and little kids would run up
and hug her without saying, like their parents wouldn't even know, and she would just sit down
and let them do whatever they wanted. She was the greatest. All right, P, Gracie.
Cookie just jumps at children's faces happily, but gets so excited. Okay.
Well, kids and puppies, that's a good combo. Yeah. Okay. So Baxter never left my side because of this
and because of the fact that I lived out in the middle of nowhere in northeast Indiana,
I never worried much about being home alone. While Baxter had a habit of barking aggressively at
noises he heard in the woods, I never thought much of it until one particular day whilst I was
baking in the sun. I saw our male lady coming up the driveway. On a normal day, she would leave
the mail in the box, but that day she decided to bring it to me personally. And I'm so glad she did.
She immediately asked me if I was home alone. I said, well, technically no, Baxter's here.
And she warned me that I should go inside and lock the doors immediately. When I asked why,
she proceeded to tell me that there was a murderer on the loose, possibly in the woods nearby.
Apparently, meth is a big problem in our area. And earlier that morning at a mobile home nearby,
a drug deal went wrong, resulting in the drug dealer shooting another man in the chest
and immediately fleeing in a car with his friend. During the police chase, the man had
bailed out of his friend's car and ran into the woods nearby. I immediately called my friend to
come over and stay with me while the police search continued and on his way to my house,
he was stopped by police so that they could check and make sure the murderer was not hiding in his
truck bed. Finally, in a search involving over 150 officers, they eventually caught the man in the
woods just across the state line in Ohio, which means he likely passed right by our house earlier
that morning and was probably the cause for Baxter's barking that day. Needless to say,
this was one of the most exciting things to happen in our small town. And I was very thankful
that our male lady took the extra time to drop off our mail that day to make sure I was safe.
Stay sexy and always listen to your polar bear when he's trying to tell you something is happening
in the woods, Rachel. Wow. The polar bear and the male lady were your heroes that day and not
to discount that the male lady was the clear winner in this competition that I've set up in my mind.
The male lady didn't have to do what she did. Baxter had no choice. That's in Baxter's soul.
Totally. You bark at the woods if there's a creep out in the woods. But the male lady could have
been like, you're not my responsibility. And instead, she went the extra mile. Amazing. Good on
her. I hope she got the key to the city. Okay. When my mom pursued a criminal in a high-speed chase.
Yes. My favorite ladies. To provide some context, my parents live on 10 acres of land in Arizona.
All their neighbors are pretty spaced out, but still within about a quarter of a mile from each
other. One time as my mom left our house, she passed a car she didn't recognize that was parked
close to our nearest neighbors but thought nothing of it. We occasionally have hikers or mountain
bikers out there. Realizing she had left her wallet at home, she turned around and then saw a man
quickly get in that car with things in his hands exiting my neighbor's house and sped away. She
felt something was off, so she began to follow him. And eventually once getting off dirt roads,
he realized my mom was following and began going 80 on a 50 mile per hour road. That sounds like me.
Mom, well on the phone with the cops, chased this man, even though they repeatedly told her not to.
And in an attempt to see his face, she took a dirt road that met up again with the paved road
and got a look at his face, car, and license number. Damn, mom. Turns out he had entered
our neighbor's house through their doggy door. Guys, doggy doors are not safe. And then once
their dog was outside, he had put bleach outside the door so their dog wouldn't enter. Oh, yeah,
isn't that weird? He sold thousands of dollars of jewelry and electronics. The cops later had my
mom pick a photo out of a lineup and she said without a doubt she knew it was him. Unfortunately,
the jewelry was never returned as his girlfriend worked at a shop where they would melt down
gold, etc. Wow. What kind of shop is that? I don't know. That doesn't sound like a shop.
It sounds like an illegal operation. That sounds like something from the 1700s.
Totally. Oh my God. Hi, Mady. I don't know why he's a pirate now. Look, pour a little gold on the
Barbie. What? An Australian pirate shop. We know. That's right. Here I go. But at least
they caught the guy regardless of the 9-1-1 operator telling my mom not to chase what could
be a dangerous criminal. Then it says seriously, mom, what the fuck? Or WTF. Anyway, shout out to
my mom, Kim, Kimberly, for being such a badass. Stay sexy. And when in doubt, maybe don't chase
a criminal in hot pursuit. Sydney, like from Australia. Sydney. Hey. It's a theme. Yes.
Don't chase anybody in that scenario. It's really not safe. I mean, who knows? Maybe
she didn't know that there wasn't someone in the house that something had happened to them,
but then go check on the person instead, I guess. Just get out of the way. Here's the thing.
All of that is the best. The thought behind it is wonderful, but you're in the way.
And then what if those cops come and they pull a gun and you're up there going,
but I'm going to make a facial ID. Like, no, go home. What if the guy has a gun?
Yeah. Or what if, you know, 85,000 other things. 85,000 other things. No, your spot. Come on.
Totally. Don't be a hero, Kim. Well, she already did it. There were so many good ones that I keep.
Every time I pick up a piece of paper, I put a star next to the one I got. Then I'm like,
wait, shit. Is this the one? Okay. The subject line of this one is Russian roulette, the Dart edition.
Oh, no. Oh, no. Hey all, my dad grew up with three sisters and a brother. As kids in the 40s
and 50s, my dad got into all sorts of shenanigans with his brother. Like the time they smoked a
cigar, trampled all the watermelons in the community garden, or set off a bomb at the
seminary building. Those three things are the most epic things kids have ever done,
and they did them all. I'm so impressed. Singularly, it would have been a lifelong story.
And they were just, they were kudos. They were getting it done. Okay. But this is the story
of how they'd play Russian roulette, Dart style. When they moved to Utah from California,
it was the first time they lived in a house with a basement. So they turned standing at the top
of the stairs, throwing a dart through the opening at the bottom of the stairs, while the other ran
across the opening. The goal for one at the top of the stairs was to hit the brother running across
the bottom, while the bottom brother attempted to avoid hitting it. How? How? That doesn't add up.
That math is not fucking linear. That's the math of an older sibling making up a game where they
get to abuse the younger sibling, but it's all within the construct of the game. Totally. Those
are the rules. That's my cousin, Stevie Hospital. I'd love to name check him when I get to talk
about his abuse when we were children. He used to love to play baseball, where it was me and my
sister against him out in the farm yard, and he would be like, so when I'm up, you pitch to me.
But when you're up, I pitch to you, but then I throw the ball at you to get you out at the bases.
And we're like, okay, I mean, there's nothing else to do. So legit. My cousin Mitch is that one,
who actually is Dr. Dan, whose podcast is coming out on our work, his little brother,
who was just a truck. He's the one who lit his kitchen on fire. That's a kid. Just a
troublemaker. And when the little cousins asked, we would come over, the rules were
hard and fast. Didn't make sense. Someone always got hurt. It always involves hitting
as a, just part of a game. Like, did you ever play that game spit, where you slam your hand down,
like on piles, if the, if two cards, the same card, whatever. Super fun. Oh yeah. Okay. So,
Stevie, when we played spit, he would, no matter what cards were down, if you went to put your
hand down, would just smack your hand. Like, it was just an excuse to hit us. I thought you were
going to say the game where they hold one of the young, which fucking Mitch definitely did this,
they hold the younger one down and pretend they're going to spit in their face, let the spit hang,
the most disgusting game. Okay. That's the worst. And my sister did that to me one time.
I turned my head and the spit went into my ear. Of course it did. So I was slightly obsessed
with Q-tips ever since. Anyhow, can't get clean. Anyhow. Okay. So, the good, where the fuck were
we? My, my dad, so the, the point of the game is for the bottom brother to avoid getting hit
by the brother at the top of the stairs. My dad said they often did this with a BB gun too. Jesus.
On inside downstairs. But this particular, on this particular occasion, it was a set of darts.
My dad was the unlucky one at the bottom of the stairs while his younger brother was at the top.
And wouldn't you know it? His little brother had been practicing.
Got real good. He's like a sniper. He's been practicing. And as my dad ran past, his brother
hit him with a dart one sixteenth of an inch away from his eye. That sucker stuck straight out from
the side of his face and had my dad run any slower or my uncle lopped the dart any sooner,
my dad could have lost an eye. Classic. My dad passed away seven years ago, but he and his
brother remained best friends and loved telling us about all the experiences they had as kids.
Anytime I'm missing my dad, I give my uncle a call because they sound and act so much alike.
That's lovely. Anyway, thanks for starting this podcast and bringing literal joy into my life.
I'm so glad to finally not feel like a weirdo simply because I enjoy true crime.
Stay sexy. And if you're going to play darts, make sure you're the one at the top of the stairs,
Brooke. Wow. I gotta say, for as big of travel makers as my brother and sister and I were,
the fact that we didn't have an attic or a basement or really much free space to run in
because we lived in a suburb, I think we got real lucky and there's some scars that didn't
ever happen because of that, right? You had all of those things. Because you just didn't have the
room to make them. Yeah. To make obstacle courses. Yes. And kind of to go like you were away from
adults. So those kinds of games, they always just get ratcheted up. It's never just the,
you know, because we played that like that kind of baseball for a while, then that morphed into,
because the compost pile was right nearby. So then it would turn into rotten potato baseball
or rotten egg base. But you know what I mean? Oh, my brother did once crack an egg over my head.
So I get what you mean. And then there were some, my poor mom, my poor working mom,
I think she got in trouble at work because we would just every day someone call her crying
and screaming. Oh, yes. Yes. We did that to my mom all the time too. We made her late for work
every single morning. And we called her constantly at the psychiatric hospital where she was just
like. Already dealing with fucking people. With a pretty stressful job. Yeah. And then we're like,
Mom, I wanted to watch this company. And she turned it to what she's just like, oh, no,
kid and clean up that front door before we get home. Oh, I need to give them,
I need to get my mom a break. Okay. From what? Happy Mother's Day. Happy Mother's Day for all
the moms out there. We see you. We see, we see your pain. We'll never feel it. Our wombs are closed.
Lights are off in our rooms.
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Okay, meet cute from the Netherlands. Oh, hi furry friends. And that says RIP Elvis.
I'm a newly wed to the show. My best friend introduced me to you guys and boy, I had no clue.
I secretly was a murderer now. Thanks, dude. So now I'm binging with regular laughs outbursts.
Thanks. Nice. Sorry, did they refer to themselves as a newly wed to the show? Yeah.
Yeah. Thank you. So we're all married to someone in the Netherlands.
We are. In the last many so you asked for meet cute stories or and then it says MEAT meet cute.
Maybe I'm missing some USA slaying as a duchy butchers. Send us your MEAT meet cutes. Have you
been sliding slicing a side of beef and someone cute walks up? Okay. Many years ago, I was knocked
off by a horse while riding on my own in the woods. I broke my ankle badly and couldn't walk or get to
my horse. First I rang. Yes, it was the time of flip phones. Thank God. The owner of the horse,
then my mom, then my dad. But for some reason, everyone had something better to do than respond
to my calls. The next person on my mind was my ex boyfriend who I walked a dog with in that same
area a week before. He would know where I was and find me. He answered the phone and when I said,
hi, I'm knocked off the horse. I think I broke my ankle and now someone needs to come and help me.
He said, have you called 911? And then it says the Dutch version of it. I laughed because I just
thought somebody had to come get me and I didn't even I hadn't even thought about paramedics,
even though my foot was standing at a 90 degree angle to my leg. Yeah, I blame adrenaline. Oh,
that sweet, sweet adrenaline. He asked where I was and I said and said he would be on his way.
After that, I rang 911, but he beat them to it. He waited there with me in the woods, keeping me
calm, guided the paramedics to me once they couldn't drive further and joined me in the ambulance
to the hospital. Oh, I had surgery and a long recovery, but he visited me almost daily to talk
and laugh and just be bored with me. Fast forward to 14 years later and he still makes me laugh
and is the most sweet and awesome dad to our little boy. Oh, man. Sorry for the long story.
Hope it fit the criteria. Listen, there is no criteria anymore and long stories feed our souls.
Just a good story. Yeah, that's all we want. Last but not least, thank you for normalizing
psychiatric counseling. My brother has struggled with depression and addiction for over a decade
while refusing professional help since he thought that was embarrassing or meant he was weak.
You are making a difference. Thanks. Stay sexy and break a leg finding your true love.
Love. Loves. That's rad. That's cute. I love that. I mean, you know, off times we break up
with people for very good reasons and sometimes you get back together for very bad reasons.
Oh, amen. Just something I love to do. But I love that that was, it's almost like they went
through a little test. Yes. And then it was like, yeah. And then if you call someone and they're
like call night, I thought you were going to be like call no no one. Goodbye. Goodbye. And instead,
it was like, you didn't do the thing you should do. You're calling me smart enough to be like,
let me pick up on that. Yeah. Get in there. Reliability is an amazing character trait to
find in a partner to, you know, it's like giving a shit. It's really key, like truly giving a shit.
And then like being there by your side in the hospital, it's just like care and reliability
are beautiful things to find in a partner. And not common. Because these days we're all so meme-y-me.
Totally. We're all so meme-y-meem. All those memes out there. Oh, so many
narcissistic memes. All right. Okay. Okay. This is last, right? And yes. This I really enjoyed
reading. Another, the subject line is another Alaskan, another irresponsible tree climber. Hi,
friends. I recently listened to the mini-soad written by the Alaskan who pushed her three-year-old
brother out of the tree and thought of my own childhood in Alaska. I feel that this person
should have gone into greater detail about just how weird it is to grow up in Alaska. Do not,
do not correct other people's hometowns. That's one rule we have right now. Don't fucking talk
shit on other people's hometowns. Nearly everything up here is trying to kill you
in parentheses. Animals, weather, weird-ass dudes. And as a result, all the kids are half bad-ass
and half insane. For example, I used to mountain bike down an old power line trail to get to my
friend's house about three miles away, three miles. Wow. One day when I was 11 or 12 years old,
I was bombing down the trail and came across a mama brown bear with two babies,
a normal human being would think I am about to die. But my baby Alaskan-ness thought,
ugh, now I have to carry my bike through the brush to get around them, which I did. But this
story isn't about bears or bikes, it's about trees. In the 90s, my family bought 10 wild acres,
near Kine, Alaska, about two hours away from Anchorage. We planned to eventually build a cabin,
but first we needed to create a clearing by cutting down excess trees. My dad, an ex-forest
ranger slash turned army ranger slash turned doctor. I guess I didn't need to say the slashes.
Sorry about that. No, I love slashes. There'd be comments if she didn't,
her he or she or they didn't want you to read the slashes, you know?
You know, just as a, grammatically, you don't need the slashes if you're going to put the
turned in there. But you know what? This is on me. Anyway, no shame. There's no shame in hometowns.
Okay, so my dad, an ex-forest ranger, turned army ranger, turned doctor needed help clearing
said trees. So naturally, he taught his eight and 10 year old daughters how to safely cut them down
with a hand saw. Absolutely. I love hometowns. Skills. Skills, the girls needed later in life.
He marked which ones needed to go and left us to it.
Goodbye. Yeah, just enjoy your day.
I'm going to go have a fucking, what kind of hams, what kind of beer do they have,
like beer do they have in Alaska? Yeah, I bet they have plenty of hams up there.
Yeah, I think so. Hopefully a nice keystone. Oh.
Being slightly badass, but mostly insane, we eventually got bored of cutting the trees down
and decided to create a game. Oh. What is the game you ask? Well, it went like this.
Together, we'd start sawing a wedge into the tree, and once it was quote unquote just right,
one of us would climb up and find a secure spot to hang on. The other would then saw the rest
of the tree all caps so the person in the tree could ride it down as it fell.
I want to cry. I want to cry and cry.
Oh, this was allowed to like this was a parent sanctioned move.
Yes. By that dad being like, good luck with your logging eight and 10 year old child.
Yeah, here's five minutes of showing you how. Yes. Yeah. Okay.
Eventually having heard our shrills of excitement, my dad puttered back over and asked what we
were doing. We explained and he looked up at me in the tree eight years old. My sister holding
the saw 10 years old and said, make sure you only ride the ones that are marked and walked away.
This ladies and gentlemen is an Alaskan childhood.
You'll be pleased to know that my sister and I both grew up in our fully functioning human beings.
I live in the Pacific Northwest now and although I'm in my 30s, if I see a good climbing tree
and there are many, I'll climb it. You can take the girl out of Alaska,
but you can't take the Alaska out of the girl. Stay sexy and only ride the trees that are marked,
Rachel. That's a beautiful metaphor for life, you know, like how fun, be wild, but you know,
keep a safe distance from unmarked trees. I don't know. Yeah. Do your research, almost like, you
know, make sure you know exactly what the shape of what you're trying to aim toward is. Yeah.
Don't just do it wherever. We need your wilderness childhood stories, please.
We need them. We want them. My brother hiked to 10, hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon,
didn't come home to camp, the campground till three in the morning. I wrote about it in our book.
Stay sexy and don't get murdered. Is it out yet? I thought you were talking about, no, May 11th.
I thought you were talking about that episode of the Brady Bunch. Oh, maybe.
Did it? Asher? Did that happen to you? Are you remembering old Brady Bunch as your child?
My childhood is forgotten and I put in Brady Bunch in wonder years. You remember when my
friend's brother went to Vietnam? That was crazy. So sad. And then remember when he was also
slightly younger and in the Princess Bride? Oh, Fred Savage. Fred Savage. What a good-hearted
person. Okay. If you want one more story each and then a few back episodes of that too,
you can join the fan cult. We do many, many so's fan cult stories only. Thanks for listening.
And stay sexy and don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie?