The Way I Heard It with Mike Rowe - 213: "It's Not What You'd Call a Page Turner"

Episode Date: August 17, 2021

Mike reads the final and most disgusting chapter from his book, and then welcomes his mom back to the podcast, who takes the opportunity to once again steal the show and upstage her son at every opportunity.

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That's netsuite.com. Hey, guys, it's Mike Rowe. This is the way I heard it, episode number 213. And it's called, it's not what you'd call a page turner. On this episode, Chuck and I unpack the final chapter of my book, with a little help from a very special guest who has become the undisputed audience favorite on this podcast. Some of you know her as Miss Peggy, others as America's grandmother. Me, I call her mom. Oh, yes, in mere moments, the one and only Margaret Row will stop by to evaluate my final chapter, past Judge on my literary choices, correct my grammar, evaluate my wardrobe, and offer the somewhat less

than charitable critique that inspired the title of this episode, it's not what you'd call a page turner. She's also here to bring me up to speed on her new and exciting life in the retirement community, where she and my dad now happily reside. And if that doesn't sound exciting enough, Let me say it another way. My mom, the wisest woman I've ever met, jams me into her very busy schedule to talk candidly about the process of writing from the heart, of letting go of things you love, and adjusting to a grueling new schedule of Mahjong-Bachi ball, book clubs, billiard tournaments, shuffleboard, and making new friends. It's really a conversation about letting go of that which you simply do not need.

it picks up where the last chapter left off, just below the streets of San Francisco, where our hero finds himself at long last, face to face with the inescapable truth of his own identity, in the bowels of the sewer where his long journey finally comes to an end. Or, depending on how you look at it, a new beginning. Either way, it is the final chapter of a book that my mother claims to love, even though she just told me, and I'm quoting, it's not what you'd call a page turner. I was devastated by that critique, naturally, until I realized she was referring to the audio version

you were listening to presently, a version with no pages to turn, a version that comes to its logical conclusion right now. Chapter 35, The Star of the Show. Our hero was knee-deep in a rancid river, far below the city he called home. Accompanying him was his loyal cameraman, Branson, along with his guide, a sewer inspector whose name he didn't know. The men were dressed in orange overalls, rubber hip boots, and yellow hard hats.

The inspector carried a bucket that hung from a rope looped around his neck. Our hero followed, and Branson brought up the rear, weighed down by his camera and a microphone attached to a long pole. Be careful, the inspector said. it's slicker than snot through here. If you slip, it's better to fall backwards. This was excellent advice. The flux that flowed through these ancient tunnels was filled with the flotsam and jetsam of a million medicine cabinets, tampons and cutops, diapers and dental floss, co-tex and Kleenex and condoms that clung to the men's rubber boots like colored ornaments on an X-rated Christmas tree. How much further, our hero gasped.

Not far, said the inspector, another hundred yards. The trio went deeper into the labyrinth. The tunnel narrowed, and the lights on their helmets revealed red-brick walls that seemed to undulate in the gloom. Was our hero hallucinating? Was it a trick of the light or a phantasm brought on by the stench? No. It was roaches, millions of roaches, feasting on a permanent glaze of human excrement,

drawn by their headlamps like moths to a flame, they rushed over to greet the men, covering our hero in a blanket of rippling vermin. He was disgusted, but determined to do his job. And so, turning to Branson's camera, he addressed his viewers. Good evening, folks! But that's as far as he got, before a thumb-sized roach crawled into his mouth, causing him to gag and sputter. Try not to talk, the inspector said.

Nothing good happens down here when your mouth is open. This too was excellent advice, but our hero could not heed it, for talking was his job, and the sound of his own voice enchanted him. Turning once more to Branson's camera, he started again. Funny thing about sewers, he said, but never got to the punchline. A blast of coffee-colored wastewater had erupted from a small hole in the wall, shalacking the bonnier side of his chiseled visage. See what I mean, said the inspector?

Strange popping sounds filled the air as toilets in Knob Hill above them were flushed, left and right. Liquids exploded from hidden pipes that were called laterals. Our hero knew all about laterals. Before entering the sewer, he'd filled his head with all sorts of effluvia to share with his audience. That, too, was part of his job, to know all there was to know about various subjects and share his expertise. But the sewer was not cooperating. The men pressed on, duck walking through this shooting gallery of human scat, pressing through the muck, pushing through the mire, splashing their way through a three-dimensional fresco of macrobiotic devastation that only Dante could have divined.

Finally, they rounded a corner and arrived at a crossroads, where two tunnels converged. This whole area needs work, the inspector said, as he wiped an army of roaches away from the ceiling. See these rotten bricks in the arch? They all have to come out. But our hero was not listening. He was looking again into the lens of Branson's camera and clearing his throat. The walls around me were built in 1866, he explained. at a crisp, well-modulated baritone, and today you'll find over a thousand miles of tunnels down here, all of which? Just then, a sewer rat emerged from the miasma and crept up behind him, as rats often do. He was the size of a shoebox, plump and wet and reeking of urine. In a twinkling,

the rodent scampered onto our hero's back and up to his shoulder. There, he paused, perched like a parrot, squealed into our hero's ear, and dove into his lap. Squealing back, our hero leapt to his feet, smashed his head into the low ceiling, then fell face first into the sludge as a curtain of roaches rained down upon him. Never mind, Dante. This was a page only Poe could have penned, a portrait that only Bosch could have painted. This was a baptism in a river of shit. Our hero pushed himself up from the sludge and tried to recall the difference between hepatitis A and B. Not that it mattered. Surely he had contracted both. For once, he was speechless.

But the sewer inspector was not. Hey, Chief, when you're done screwing around with the local wildlife, I could use some help over here. Grab that trowl, would you, and mix me up a new batch of grout? Our hero sighed. Why not? The sewer? had thwarted him at every turn. If he could not do his job, perhaps he could do someone else's. Thanks, the inspector said, taking the trial. For the first time, our hero looked,

really looked, at the inspector. The man was in his late 30s with blonde hair. He was breathing hard, drenched, in sweat, but good-humored. His name was Jean. It said so, right there on his workshirt. Please tell me, they pay you a little. a fortune? The inspector laughed and hammered his chisel deep into the rotten grout.

I wouldn't call it a fortune, he said, but I'm doing pretty well. How about the smell? Do you ever get used to it? The man can get used to anything, Jean said. For the next hour, our hero forgot all about the camera and worked as the inspector's apprentice. He hammered out bricks, He mixed grout. He bumbled and fumbled and got more wrong than right, but he tried, and that's when it happened. There, at the subterranean crossroads, covered in poop and taking orders, our hero finally realized he wasn't the star of the show. The real star was Jean, the modest sewer inspector, working beside him. Thus began a new chapter in the life of our humbled hero. who was inspired in that moment to create a new kind of show, a show with a mission instead of a script,

a guest instead of a host, a show you may have seen that led to a podcast you may have listened to, and a book that you'll probably finish today, unless, of course, you decide to go back to the beginning, which would please our hero, to no end. Anyway, that's the way I heard it. See what I did there? I turned myself into a hero. You should try it sometime. All you have to do is put yourself on a pedestal and write about yourself in the third person. Be careful, though, when you cast yourself as the star of your own show, it's easy to see everyone else as a bit player in the story of your life. That's what happened to me. After I lost my safety net, I became

disconnected from all sorts of things, including the people around me. Until my unplanned baptism in the sewers of San Francisco, I didn't even know Gene's name. But thanks to him and to Branson, who never stopped rolling, I left that day with footage that inspired the first episode of Dirty Jobs, a show that allowed me to tell the stories of people like my grandfather, not through the eyes of a host who pretends to know more than he does, but through the eyes of the new guy, whose first day on the job is every day. That would have made my pop proud. Speaking of heroes, at the start of this book, I promised to revisit Paul Harvey, and, as I might have mentioned, a promise made is a debt unpaid. So, let's get to it. Paul Harvey was a hero to

me. The son of a cop who'd been killed by two robbers, he worked his way up from being an office boy at a radio station in Tulsa, Oklahoma, to hosting the popular radio show that inspired my podcast. For 33 years, he told us the rest of the story, and the way I remember it, he always put his subjects first. Obviously, I can't fill Paul Harvey's shoes, but I can follow in his footsteps, and I've tried to do so here, writing about the people who interest me most. Sadly, many of those people are dead, including a few I knew personally. Joan Rivers, Dick Clark, and Tony Bourdain can no longer tell their own stories. Like Fred King, they live now only in my memory, and the memories of the many people they touched. I'm grateful to have known them all. Kippy Stroud, too, has shuffled off her mortal

coil. I didn't know her well, but I was happy to spend a year in her haunted mansion. I hope that she and her dad have finally reconciled and forgiven me for permanently. borrowing all 21 Travis McGee mysteries, which I've since read and reread, no less than 21 times. Happily, my dog, Freddy, is alive and well, as of this writing, and is mostly continent. So too are my dear parents, John and Peggy. Dad's still volunteering at the hospital, delivering meals on wheels, and strutting around on the stage, mom still searching for typos on my Facebook page, and working on her second book. May they continue to do so for another hundred years.

Sandy is still pissed off at the Russians for sending Lika into space, but pleased to see me publish an actual book. Nice to see you finally write something you get paid for, she says. Think anybody will read it? That is a very good question. Chuck Klausmeyer, my buddy from high school, still wears that terrible blue blazer he loaned me 20 years ago, even though it no longer fits. He also produces my podcast, in spite of my repeated warnings about where he's not.

working for old friends. Likewise, the Irish Hammer is still on the case, doing her best to keep me from becoming an asshole, or worse, looking like one. This last chapter, for instance, has led to some gentle interrogation. Tell me, she says, will you be referring to yourself in the third person from now on? Will you require a new pedestal? And what should I call you? Do you prefer my hero or your majesty? I've assured her that Either is fine. Grumpy's is still there, but Johnny's is no more, and Baltimore is a worse place for its absence.

Sadly, the Baltimore Opera Company is also kaput. Michael Gelert, my buddy, who greased the wheels at my first audition, now directs the Harbor City Music Company, one of the very best Acapella Women's Choruses in the world. The chorus of the Chesapeake lives on as well, directed now by Fred King's son, Kevin, The old guard is mostly gone, but a new batch of men are singing the same songs in four-part harmony at a volume consistent with that of a Metallica concert. Shortly after I left CBS to work on Dirty Jobs, Evening Magazine went off the air. I'm told my departure and the show's demise were purely coincidental. QVC, on the other hand, is alive and well, reaching over a hundred million homes and generating billions of dollars in annual sales.

I haven't always spoken about my tenure there with reverence, but the truth is, everything I needed to know about this business, I learned there. For that, I'm indebted. I suppose I should also thank the rat. We are no longer in touch, but thanks to his timely intervention, I wound up with more than a hit show. I wound up with a foundation and something that looks very much like a career. Speaking of rats, the trusted financial advisor who stole my money, finally went to jail, and deservedly so. But I can't tell you I was a completely innocent victim. Deep down, I suspected the figures he presented might be too good to be true. But I kept my head in the sand

and told myself the story I wanted to believe. Lesson learned. I also promised at the outset to tell you the truth the way I heard it. And for the most part, I think I have. But of course, the truth and the whole truth are never the same. And that brings me back to Phil Harris. He suffered a massive stroke in 2010 and ended up in a hospital bed, dying, unable to speak. Todd Stanley, the cameraman who had filmed him for years, was there with him. Todd's camera was off out of respect, but Phil motioned Todd to his bedside and scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper. You've got to get to the end of the story. And so, Todd Stanley picked up his camera and the millions of people who'd gotten to share Phil's life

came together to share in his death. Kind of extraordinary, right? Even heroic? Phil Harris believed a story without an ending wasn't really a story. Paul Harvey believed a story wasn't over until you heard the rest of it. The way I see it, both were correct. Regarding Paul Harvey and the rest of his story, he passed away too, a year before Phil Harris did.

He was one of the few broadcasters to ever receive the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Not long ago, I heard from his son. Paul Harvey Jr. wrote and produced the rest of the story for his dad, and when his letter arrived at my office, I was afraid to open it. For all I knew, it was a cease and desist order regarding my podcast. But it wasn't. It was a very kind note, along with a generous check for the MicroWorks Foundation. According to Paul Jr., his dad would have liked the work our foundation was doing. Modesty aside, that was a proud. and humbling moment for me. One more thing to be grateful for. Finally, a point of clarity regarding John Stewart. I dropped his name earlier because I wanted to circle back later and tell you about the time I was hired to host The Daily Show, not once, but twice. It's an interesting story, but my friend Alex, a wreck of a man, but one heck of a writer, says that my book is already too long. His instincts have proven useful. So far, anyway.

way, so I guess I'll save that one for another day. Instead, I'll just say, for the record, that I did meet John Stewart once upon a time way back in 2006. I was a guest on the daily show, answering John's trenchant and insightful questions, questions like, so tell us, Mike, what was your dirtiest job? The way I heard it, John Stewart called my answer, the funniest thing he'd ever heard. but you can watch our interview on YouTube and judge for yourself. In fact, I think you should. Go ahead. Google it. I'll wait.

Do do do do do do do do do do. Is it weird to love people but despise human resources? If so, well, color me weird. It's not to say I don't respect the millions of people who work in HR departments and companies all over the country. I do. It's just that I don't end. That's why MicroWorks doesn't have an HR department for better or worse.

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work for you too. Post a job for free at ZipRecruiter.com slash row. And watch what happens. Odds are you'll find a human resource that just happens to be a great fit for your company in 24 hours or less. ZipRecruiter.com slash row. ZipRecruiter.com slash row. The smartest way to hire. Well, there's Chuck in, where are you again? Carolina Beach? North Carolina. You were there last week when we did this, right? I was, yeah. This is two weeks in a row.

And it worked last week, right? Like that podcast actually got up. It happened. It is. People can hear it right now. joining us from the home, the one and only Peggy Row. Hi, Mom. Hey there, Mike. Hi, Chuck. Hi, Peggy. How are you? I'm good, thank you. Your father's here, too, but he's watching the news. Yeah, well, I'm sure he'll make an appearance scheduled or unscheduled, and we'll deal with the inevitable audio issues when that happens. But we've come to the end of the book, so nothing else really matters at this point, Mom. You are the final guest on the final episode of the way I heard it as it pertainable.

to the slow unpacking of the book. Thank you, first of all, for being a part of this previously, and how does it feel to be the special honored guest here at the inevitable terminus of said project? Well, as you said, I feel honored. And, Mike, I read that chapter again. I really like that chapter. It just brings everything together,

sums it up, and tells us how it all started. Well, thank you. I'm glad, because honestly, when we started talking about the way I heard it, we really didn't have a plan. Full disclosure, we were just looking for a new way to charge more money to more advertisers by creating more content. Chuck is shaking his head because this is one of the things as the producer of this fake podcast. He hates this level of disclosure. But as you know, Mom, this whole thing has been an experiment. My entire career has been an experiment. And part of that experiment is constantly trying to find new ways to ring

a little bit of money out of unsuspecting sponsors. So thank you for being a part of that, too. You know, Mike, I always tell people that you fly by the seat of your pants. And it's so true. And it was never more apparent than this past week when you visited the home and did a TV interview. And it was such fun. And people have been telling me since then how much they enjoyed it. And I say, you know, when you have an interview with Mike, you just never know which direction you're going be going in. Well, Chuck, this may or may not be true. I think it's largely true, but the apple did not fall far from the tree. We're in the home where my mom and dad are now living, of which there are, what, 2,200 residents, mom? 2300, I learned the other day. Yeah.

2,300. So there are a lot of people there, and they have this dedicated internal channel that everybody watches. And we were invited to sit down and be interviewed. And I wasn't really sure, you know, These things, sometimes you walk into a closet and there's some guy with a flashlight and an iPhone going, hey, welcome to the studio. I had no idea. It was a real studio. They had real camera people and real cameras and, you know, there was a thing. And so we sit down, me, my mom, my dad, and this woman called Stephanie, who proceeds to interview us. And during the open to the show, as we're approaching it, my mother looks down at my pants, which are short and admittedly a bit tighter than they were a few days. but with the nine crab cakes I managed to jam down my well-muscled throat over the course of 72 hours. And what exactly did you say, Mom, regarding my trousers? Well, it's something about the fact that you failed to dress up for the interview. No, you said those don't leave a whole lot to the imagination. Well, that was when you crossed your leg.

You put one leg over the other, and I was just afraid it was going to be too revealing. And sure, these people here are not in their prime for the most. part, but they still have eyes and they can see. I was afraid you might, you know. Give somebody a heart attack? Yeah. Put an eye out? Or have them lining up outside the door. If you sign this, I'll sign that. Oh, dear. But it was a really fun interview, and I'm glad it was well received. In fact, I wonder, do you think you could get a cut of it over to Chuck, I bet there's some, Chuck, there really are some great moments in this thing. Actually, Chuck, I have a link. I'd be happy to send it to you. Oh, I'd be delighted to receive it. They're very sophisticated. They have links and, you know, they can, I mean, it's a real TV studio.

I'm very impressed by it. Before we get to the seminal moment in the sewer, which, as you know, is the culmination of the book. And before you compliment me more on the way I brought it all together and landed the plane so expertly. There's so many. I posted a picture of the interview we've been talking about on my Facebook page, and hundreds of people have questions about your quality of life. Many are kind of harsh with me. They're accusing me of shipping the two of you into a home.

So I'd be grateful if you would at least set the record straight for some of my Facebook friends who really don't think that well of me right now. It's a large facility, 85 acres, 2,300 people, and about 1,500 on the staff. So we are well cared for, and the amenities are unbelievable. There are so many activities to participate in. And as you mentioned in your post, there's botchy ball, there's shuffleboard, there's a lovely state-of-the-art gym, and a swimming pool that looks like an Olympic swimming pool. Oh, there are so many activities. Dad's active in the men's reading club. There are book clubs.

How active you need to be to read. I was just going to say, that's not really an active. They really got the heart rate up there high and then you keep it there with these page turners. Active means you go to the meetings. You participate. You stay awake. You ask questions. And then you recommend a book that you found really enjoyable, which dad did. So next month, It will be dad's turn to lead the discussion on the book that he recommended that everyone read. That's being active. Yeah. I'm assuming that book is the way I heard it by my grow.

You know, we're saving that for later. But this particular one is called Educated. Oh, yeah. I read that. That's kind of heavy. That memoir about that kid who grew up in the Appalachas or something, was it? Yeah. Tara Westover.

Yeah. It's a memoir. So, of course, it's true. and it was, I haven't read it, but dad is compelled to share frequently, as you well remember. And he read a lot of, a lot of the portions of the book to me. Al loud. Yeah, it was appalling. Her lifestyle really was.

Yeah. Oh, I thought you were going to say, Dad. Yeah, right. It was appalling the way he read this story to me. He did a Russian accent. And as you know, it's not his finest. You know what? He might lapse into an accent.

that every now and then he is prone to do that. But he is a good reader and he has a good voice. He did it during the interview. He literally did it last Wednesday. In the middle of not, he was answering a question and then suddenly he was talking like this. I heard it, I heard it. But we didn't call it to anyone's attention. And then he felt compelled to sing. He sang, Oklahoma to the tune of Hallelujah. He said, oh, Oklahoma. Which I give him credit for. I mean, It was a recognizable melody, albeit not from the show in question. And it was loud and in key, so win-win. Yeah.

So they're doing Oklahoma at the home. Of course, they can't call it Oklahoma. No, they're calling it Homa. Because that way they don't have to pay royalties. And also, it's not really the entire play as it was written, but I think it's excerpts and a lot of music from it. In fact, Mike kept making a joke, oh, yeah, they're going to do Surrey. Not sorry, they're going to do, God, what was that?

Golf cart with the fringe on top? The scooter. The scooter. The racer's the scooter with the fringe on top. Yeah. When I take you out the scooter, I don't know what rhymes with scooter though. Scooter with the fringe on top. Yeah.

Well, it doesn't have to rhyme with scooter because it didn't rhyme with Surrey. Sure it did. When I take you out in Missouri, chicks and ducks and geese pet scurrie. Oh, that's right. When I take you out on a scooter, sit right down right there on your pooter. I'm sure that'll be in it. I can't wait to see it. We're going this afternoon.

Yeah, we don't joke about pool with the home, Chuck. Oh, sorry. I thought it was last Homa. Is that what you told me yesterday? No, no, just Homa. It's just filled as Homa. Well, don't worry, Chuck. We'll bleep it out.

but we're trying to keep the name of the facility on the down low. Oh, so I shouldn't say. Right, right. All the many fans who are now on a targeted search to find the exact location of my celebrity parents. You know, I'm trying to buy them a few more years of peace before the autograph signings become on the present. And I very nearly threw a wrench in the hole works right there. Well, not very nearly. I mean, so nearly that you did, you know.

I don't see how you could have come any closer. Honestly, you know what? I don't like the idea that we have to bleep the name of the home. I don't think we do. But again, full disclosure, Chuck, in the spirit of ringing out every potential nickel from every potential sponsor, my plan here is to encourage my mother to keep writing tales from the home to the point where the administration over there will look at this and say, you know what, we should just identify the place in her posts and thereby maybe have a more

efficacious discussion as to the monthly cost. of living in West, which we just had to bleep. We also had a great lunch with the people who run the place. So mom, now you're plugged in to the top dog and the head honcho. So let the favors begin. They know who we are. So we have to behave ourselves really good. Let's get back to me momentarily if we could for a moment. Oh, yes. It's been so long. Why do I feel like it's going to be more than a moment? Well, because look, you are my mom. And at this point, in your career, you've written 100% more books than I have, at least in terms of getting them published. It's two to one. But this is the end of my book, and you were right on the verge of saying some nice

things about it when I interrupted you. So why don't you go back to your critique of what this book was, and if you think it actually worked as this strange hybrid, it was intended to be half mystery, half memoir, half autobiography, half biography. Let the compliment. It worked beautifully, but then it's hard for me to be objective as your mother. As a writer, it definitely worked. The interest level is there. It's not quite a page turner, but it's almost a page turner. High cotton.

What I mean is each story within itself is a page turner. Once you begin reading the story, you don't stop until you're finished with that story. However, once you're finished with that story, you don't say to yourself, oh, gosh, I have to keep reading to see what happens. You can maybe put it aside for the next day or for after dinner or for whatever. I didn't want to create that kind of pressure. No, I didn't. That's what I thought. And I might say at this point that there is a mistake in there because you say in there, my mother's working on her second book, and we know that's not true.

Well, at the time it was. Yes, you're right. You're right. Right. People are listening to this podcast anew, and I just want them to know that that's old news. It is. The second book has been published. Yes, absolutely.

Although it was published during the shutdown. But it was nevertheless, oh, Chuck, what's the word we use for it in the industry? A New York Times bestseller? That's the one. It was. It was. So we're very fortunate. You do your third one?

Any little sneak peaks, any little tease you'd like to give your many thousands of fans? Not yet. I've sent my first 11 chapters off to my editor who has edited my first two books. And I trust her and she will give me her opinion. But I think it's okay. I mean, there might be one or two little things I might want to change because there's always revision. And as I go back every few days and check on certain chapters. I'm still making changes, but I'm happy with it. It's a story. It has a through line. It's a story from beginning to end. Unlike this conversation. It is memoirish. All right, I'm finished. In the words of David Sedaris, writing is. Let me give you a hint. Rewriting. It's a good hint. But that's what it is. Of course it is.

It is. It's true. Yeah. Now, have you got to the point where you you go into a bookstore and you find your book and you look at it and you start to read and you and you just feel sick to your stomach because of garbage? Yeah, yeah. No, I don't feel sick to my stomach, but I might pick up my book here because I do refer to that sometimes in my posts. And I say to myself, oh, I should have said it like that. Or this would have been a much better way to put that, you know, and I'm constantly revising. But, you know, you do get to a point where you just have to call it quits and say, that's it. That's my book. And, you know. And move on. Speaking of sick to your stomach, let's get back to me briefly if we could. When I agreed to share my personal experience with

Blue Chew, I didn't know I'd be doing so in the midst of a conversation with my mother. But what are you going to do? Timing is at the heart of all opportunity. And opportunities don't always arise when you want them to. And so I have not only welcomed Blue Chew aboard as a sponsor of the way I heard it. I've gone to bluechew.com myself, entered in promo code Roe, paid a $5 shipping fee, and received a month's supply for free. Now, I got myself a stash of these chewable tablets filled with the same active ingredients you'll find in Viagra and Seales. So, do they work? Do I personally recommend them? Well, let me put it this way. If you're about to sit down to interview your mom on a podcast of your own, don't take one. Trust me, it's not the right time. Other than that, I'll leave it to you to

decide when to chew and what to do with yourself in the immediate aftermath. Whatever you decide, get your months supply for free when you use promo code mom. I mean row at bluechew.com. That's promo code row at bluechew.com. Because in the words of Sigmund Freud, if it's not one thing, it's your mother. Bluechew.com promo code R-O-W-E for all the opportunity you can handle. Did you think the sewer was a good place to actually end this long and smelly odyssey? I thought it was perfect.

I thought that that whole chapter was just perfect because it is the story of the beginning of your career. Yeah. And I don't want to put words in your mouth, but were you at all impressed by the fact? that I made the point later in that chapter that putting things on a pedestal is something that we all can do for ourselves, calling back that earlier chapter when I talked about putting a pig on a pedestal and how that helped inform everything that followed. Was that lost on you? Or did you think to yourself, boy, what a trenchant and interesting observation from my oldest son? The latter.

And what about the metaphor? of me down there in the sewer mixing the mortar to hold the bricks together. When in the introduction to the book, as you might recall, I talked about the metaphor of mixing the grout to go with the tile that composed each chapter. Did you find that at all impressive? Do you know what? Now that you mention it, that was very clever, but it did not occur to me at the time. I did not see that correlation. I mean, is it possible that part of the reason you love the book so much is because,

because in the subliminal part of your brain, those kinds of metaphors and those kinds of moments were just always throbbing under the surface, adding resonance and relevance to what I think you just described moments ago as this book that is not quite a page turner. That too. Exactly. That too. And also the fact that Dad and I are in the book. Yes, you are. A lot. And we come off looking pretty good. You do. I was careful to choose my words wisely. Look, virtually everyone that I can think of who had a hand in helping guide my accidental career, Chuck and I have talked about at length, and we've invited onto this podcast. And so here at the end of it, I just thought, well, who better than you to come in and try and put a bow on this whole hot mess and possibly dad if he can tear himself away from the news? But full disclosure, we did invite Paul Harvey Jr. first. And he responded in the affirmative.

I can't guarantee we'd be having this conversation. And you should have gone with him if he were willing to do it. So what? He didn't get back to you? Is that it? Chuck, what happened? You reached out a couple weeks ago. I did.

And apparently, he did not receive my emails. But I spoke to somebody at his foundation. She said she was going to pass them along. I forwarded the emails to her. email. She confirmed that she got it. And I told her we were hoping to do it now. And she didn't get back. So what's going to happen. What I can guarantee will happen is moments after we conclude this podcast, he'll be reaching out and saying, I would love to do it. And then, again, mom, full disclosure, we'll have to do it. And then, of course, you'll be cut out of this entirely.

Not necessarily. What we could do is keep this and point. him on a future episode. We could do that because, see, we're trying to figure out, Mom, and this is the other thing I wanted to ask you right in front of Chuck, because I'm not sure he and I are entirely on the same page with this yet, but this whole goofy thing appears to have worked. And we now have hundreds of thousands of people who are divided somewhat as to what they enjoy more, the old short stories that I used to write and these long rambling conversations with people from my life about those stories.

And I'm not quite sure what to do, but it did occur to me that of the library episodes, only 35 are in the book, leaving over 140 or so that we could continue to unpack, as it were. So before this particular conversation ends, Chuck and I need to decide what to do next week and in the weeks after that in terms of the future of what's happening here. So I guess I'd like your thoughts on that, too, as a woman of some experience and inside knowledge as to what her old the son is capable of. I don't have a lot of experience in showbiz and in media presentations. You know where I'm coming from. I'm very green at all this. But I think people have responded so positively to this, the way I heard it.

I think they would be up for some more stories, some more episodes. You know better than I. has this response been to your and Chuck's conversations? My guest today, Tom Albanyse, is an American giant, and I'll tell you why. Tom understands on a fundamental level that the business of mining is a non-negotiable prerequisite of our civilization and our economic independence, just like the business of making things. American Giant knows this, which is why they committed themselves 16 years ago to make all their excellent clothing right here in this country. It wasn't easy, but they did it.

They sourced locally grown cotton, and they built factories in towns across the nation where they could hire hardworking locals who cared about making a quality product. And then they went about the business of gently reminding people that when you buy a piece of clothing from American giant, You're not just buying a high-quality sweatshirt or t-shirt or another pair of jeans. You're investing in a local supply chain. You're supporting communities from the Carolinas to California. And you're getting a piece of clothing that won't just survive the wash. You're getting a garment that'll get better with age.

Check out their high-quality staples, hoodies, teas, denim, built to be worn year after year at American-giant.com slash mike. It's quality you can feel and a true American success story that you can be proud to support. Use code Mike. Get 20% off your order at American-giant.com slash Mike. American Giant American Made. American Giant American Made. Well, it's weirdly great. You know, how many five-star reviews do we have at this point, Charles?

about 29,500, something like that. And let me just say that people respond very well to my Baltimore accent. They really like that. They seem to enjoy it tremendously. But what they enjoy even more is when you are on the show. Oh, go on. Really? It's true.

It's absolutely true. Yeah. People's always, a lot of the reviews say love it when your mom and dad are on. Oh, well, isn't that nice? to hear and nicer even for you to tell me. Yeah, it's also annoying because, I mean, on a moving forward basis, I'm not really sure what this business model is. Mike sits down every week to talk to his best friend from high school and his mom and dad about what exactly, you know? Yeah, right. What is a lot of the world, Mike? Well, it's, you know, it's not,

It's not big issues. It's little stuff. For instance, when he was here doing the TV interview with Stephanie at the home, he was very charming, as usual, of course. And he was funny. And he sat back. And then he just said, so what's with all the old people? I thought I would fall on the floor. So of course, I had to bring it around to us. And I said, well, Mike, look at us. We are the old people. This is the old people, you know? You're looking at them. That's what with them. So I walk into their apartment, Chuck, for the first time. I haven't been the last since they moved in. You can't say the name, Mike. You've bleeped it already.

It doesn't matter. Michael, let's from here on that we'll refer to it as Oklahoma. Okay. So I go to Oklahoma for the first time, and I walk into their apartment, and I'm just getting a sense of the place. It's smaller than their old condom. but it really is like a monument to everything you need and nothing you don't, which I love. Even the pictures on the wall are sparse. There's nothing's cluttered.

They had a lot of stuff, you know, and they got rid of a lot of stuff before this move. And then the next thing I did was walk out on the balcony and look down. And my mother said, well, there's our car right there. And I said, well, you can't hate that. That's the best possible parking spot you could have. But she said, no, that's not our parking spot. that's about to become a handicapped spot. And we're not going to be able to park there.

We actually are like 120 yards away. And it's really going to be problematic when the temperature gets cold. And I said, well, maybe during lunch, we can chat these guys up and see if there's a way to, I mean, I don't know. You tell me how's it work. She goes, well, they want to make it a handicapped spot. And I said, well, then get yourself a handicapped placard. You know, and she's like, Michael, everybody has a handicapped blacker. And I said, well, then why don't you start to walk with a limp?

And she says, Michael, everybody here walks with a limp. So I don't know how we're going to swing it, Mom, but I'll try. We are content. I'll just leave it at that. We're very content here. It was a good move. And it was in my mind about three years before I broached the subject to your father, who immediately said, I don't want to live there with all those old people.

that's going to be 90 next year, you know. Yeah, I do. And he finally came around, and I think he's quite content here. He's happy, I would say. I know a lot of people listening are older than they've ever been. I know many of them probably have parents who are at this stage in their life. Maybe there's some advice that you could offer for people who are trying to navigate this transition. I remember trying to pry the two of you out of my childhood home 20 years ago when you were both loath to move into a condominium and how difficult it was to make that happen.

And here you were kind of leading the charge with dad in the same way three years ago. Any words of wisdom from America's grandmother regarding these ongoing geographical transitions? You know, I do a Facebook post a couple of times a week, and I have a couple of hundred thousand people read me. And I get hundreds of comments, and I've learned a lot from these people. And they are telling me stories about their parents who refuse to leave their home. And you have to feel sorry for the kids who are probably your in Chuck's age. They're out of town. They're worried about their parents.

Riddled with guilt. And their parents feel faint now and then, and they, you know, they have all these health issues. And, yeah, and the kids, they can't always drop everything and come home. And it's a blessing to them if their parents will just say, you know what, it was a good long run. We loved our home while we had it. And now we're ready to let somebody else look after us. It was a good move for us. And I've heard so many stories after coming here.

I talked to a young man the other day. There are a lot of people here in their 60s and 70s and 80s, and 90s, and then we have, you know, people over 100. And this man was telling me, I think he's about 63, former teacher, and he said he tried to get his mother to move here for years. And she was very dependent. and he said that he had to put his life on the side to care for his mother who refused to go into a facility such as this. And she did pass away. I don't know how old she was, but he's about a little older than you. So she was probably, I don't know, maybe almost 90.

And you know what he did right away? He moved in here in his 60s. And he said, it's wonderful. and he's so sorry that his mother could not take advantage of this. Of course, it's not for everybody. You know, some people would just pine their life away if they didn't have their back porch and their rocker and their little flower garden.

It's their life. And to make them move to a place like this would be torture for them. They would be miserable. Well, to bring it back to me for a moment, Mom, one of the things... Oh, I forgot, yeah. It's been a while. It's all that is. One of the things I was trying to say in the book, and one of the things Chuck's heard me say almost every week with regard to microworks, the foundation that's, of course, inspired by your dad, is this idea that advice is so tricky.

It always turns into cookie cutter advice. It always turns in, it seems like, to, well, what's the smartest thing to say? Knowing, for instance, that you have a couple hundred thousand people who hang on your every word on your Facebook page. those people are all at different points in their life. And they're also obviously all different individuals. And so this idea that we can say one thing that somehow equally applies to everybody, it's such a trap. And it's a trap I've fallen into myself a lot. And, you know, it just occurred to me, it's exactly what you're trying not to do.

You know, everybody is different. And Oklahoma might not be perfect for everyone. There might be another version of Oklahoma that's better for some. Other people are so sure that they want to die in the home they were born in. And they want to be in that place. And like their attachment to that geography, that place, it's so palpable. And it's so heartbreaking sometimes to see people figure out a way to step away from it. Do you remember you were in the audience, I think, one night in Baltimore.

and I was talking to some crowd of people, and in the audience was my old childhood friend, Jamie Ports. Remember? I guess it was down at the Science Center. Right. And Chuck, this was such a weird moment because Jamie works for the state. And his grandmother lived right across the street from our family. And the house that I grew up in was slated for demolition because the highway was expanding. This, of course, is years later, probably four or five years ago, Mom, I guess.

And I asked him that evening if I could be there to watch it. And he said, of course. And then I said, can I drive the bulldozer? Now, I don't know why I said that. I just thought it would be something interesting to write about later. I had a chance to knock down my beloved childhood home. But then I thought about it and I realized, what the hell are you doing? You couldn't even do that.

you know, if they paid you. And so not only did I not drive the bulldozer, I didn't even show up to watch. I couldn't bear it. And I was surprised by that, Mom, because I didn't think there was a sentimental bone in my body regarding that. Of course there is. And the funny thing is that your father and I did go. We spent the day there. We took folding chairs and we took a drink and we sat there on the side. And I'm not saying there wasn't a tear or two, especially when they lifted the top of the kitchen, the kitchen roof off that, I don't know what that big, those big jaws just clasped hold of the kitchen roof and pulled it off. And there, there was the stenciling on the kitchen wall that I had spent weeks doing. And it was lovely. And then to

see them knock the walls over that dad and your grandfather had built, They had put that whole kitchen on. And I remembered every stage of the construction and to see it pulled apart like that. But at the time, we had moved and had been in our new condominium and we're very happy there. We had nothing but wonderful memories of that old house. So it was okay. In the end, it was okay. I'm not saying we didn't feel sentimental as they were taking it, dissembling it.

But it just went to show me that a home is what's in it. It is not the brick and mortar. It's not the roof. It's not the hardwood floors. It's those three sons that we raised and dad and me and our relationship. That was the whole warm part. The rest was, you know. Stuff.

It's just stuff, yeah. Chuck, I'm looking at your face. You've never heard this story before, have you? No, no. I haven't. I mean, I'm surprised to hear. I didn't realize that that house is gone. I mean, I remember that house very well.

It served us well for many years. Oh, it was wonderful. It was a great, great house. He used to love coming over there. Yeah. We talked about this earlier in the book, to bring it back to me ever so briefly, that the house I grew up in was a truly remarkable destination at the top of a hill over an old wooden bridge that traversed. a creek called Stemmers Run. And for a time, it was just us and my grandparents right next to

each other, not 100 yards between us, old elm tree in between those two homes. And I thought for the first 11, 12 years of my life, I was somewhere in Colorado. I felt like I was Mark Twain. You know, the woods behind us were dark and deep and filled with wildlife. And the creek on one side was a natural barrier and the off ramp from exit 95 at the bottom of a hill on the other side was another barrier and the sounds that came up from that highway. Mom used to tell us, well, that was the ocean down there. And we didn't know any better because all those pine trees were in the way until a truck hopped the guardrail one day and came halfway up the hill. Anyway, it was an amazing place to grow up. We had a stable. We had horses. We had land. It was state land, but nobody could develop it. So it felt

like it was ours. And then all those years later, after I persuaded them to leave, they went back, set up lawn chairs and watched big machines tear the house down to nothing. I guarantee you, there are people who are listening to this right now, Mom, who were going, nope, I'm with Mike, couldn't do it, couldn't get anywhere near it. Nope, not in a million years. It reminds me the stories that I've read about people who came out at Gettysburg to watch the battle, you know, who, who who packed picnic lunches. Really? Yeah, that's the true story.

Yeah. Come on. They were doing reenactments of Gettysburg 10 years after Gettysburg. Yeah, with guys who had actually fought. Really? On both sides, yes. Yeah.

I mean, we think about those reenactors as a little loopy, and they kind of are. I'm friends with a lot of them, and we used them in six degrees when we were recreating various battles in the Civil War. But those battles have been kept alive within years of the completion of the battle itself before it even had a chance to fade from the collective conscious of the country. And maybe if that's on a micro level or a macro level to bring it back to micro,

ever so briefly, that's what we're talking about here with our homes and with our friends and with the people who are in our lives who shape our lives and our geography and our structures. And our stuff, isn't it crazy how attached we get to it? I really applaud you, Mom. You were able to watch that beloved house removed. And then just a few months ago, you were able to divest yourself of all of the stuff that you would accumulate it over your life. And now everything you need and nothing you don't.

I hope anyway. It's true. It is true. When you look at the big picture, it's amazing. There were times in my life that I thought I just couldn't live without my little collection of hurricane lamps. I had seven or eight of them, and I had collected them from farm auctions, and I had a couple of big ones, but most of them were miniatures. And they worked, and on Christmas, I would light them. I had the kind of kerosene that doesn't smell.

It was an oil, and we would light them, and it just, it was so festive. Well, I gave them all away when we moved here. And there was a time when what would life be without my little collection of hurricane lamps? Well, life is very fine without those hurricane lamps. And I hope someone is enjoying them. I'll tell you, I do believe some of the DNA you were kind enough to pass on to me did include that later realization that it really is just stuff. the people who collect things, never mind the hoarders. They're the most interesting people in the world,

and I know you've known a few in your life. But the collectors, I never really knew they existed to the extent they do until my first week at QVC, until we started seeing entire hours dedicated to coins and stamps. And God help me, dolls and swords and knives. And knives. There's a whole knife channel in the home shopping world where they sold these catoes and swords and buck knives and switch blades and pocket knives. And people collect everything. And I think I understand why. But what I don't quite understand or have yet to appreciate is what it would really feel like for a true collector. Not you, a true collector to have to part with that which is most precious to them.

I don't know. But when you talked about QVC, I was reminded of the night you, some woman called in. You were advertising watches. Some woman called in and said, oh, Mike, I really like that watch. And the way that you, you know, the way that you demonstrated, it was so not. I'm going to buy that watch. And you said, oh, is this your first one? And she said, no, this is number 65.

I have 60 more. I have 64 more that are not too different from this one, but you made this one look so good. I'm like, oh my golly, 65 watches. Yeah. Where do you put them? Exactly. Well, she didn't say this, but she also had five arms. And so they were fairly festooned with timepieces.

Oh, my goodness. Yeah. It's a matter of values, what our values are. Where do we place our value? Unfortunately, our values are frequently misplaced. And that's always said. I know people my age who stay in. in their home because they can't bear to part with all of these things.

They traveled and they collected every place they went. They collected things. And oh my golly, everything from head vases to Steins to, oh, you name it. Do you think as a woman of a certain age and now living in a home with people of certain advanced ages that maybe we keep ourselves surrounded with mementos because we're afraid that we won't. be able to remember them. Hmm, there is that. I never thought about that. No, I don't think so because I think you don't even give a thought to not being able to

remember stuff until it's too late. I was just thinking, I don't think those things would help me remember anyway. No. Oh, you mean to maybe look at a piece of needlework and say, oh, I remember. I bought that the day when we went Czechoslovakia. Yes. I see. Yeah.

Well, you were in Czechoslovakia? No, but I was just giving it an example. Would you like to go to Czechoslovakia? Not right now. Thank you. Anytime? I mean... Well, we'll talk.

All right. Are you going? No. I still have it in my head that I have some things I'd like to write about, you know, if I ever finish this contract and do a second book. And I just said to you a couple of months ago when you were throwing all your stuff out, you said, oh, Mike, I found a, like a Tupperware container. here. I don't know why I was Tupperware. It's filled with old checks, old check stubs and bank

records of things that you did. And obviously we were just going to shred them and burn them and whatever. And I said, no, no, no, no. I actually want those. And the reason I wanted him, Chuck, is because I wanted to remember some of the jobs that I did before dirty jobs. Because I had hundreds, you know, I really can't remember. There were so many. small, tiny things that I did. And, you know, as my mom and I often say, everything is content. And you don't really know what a chapter can become or what a story will be or what direction and narrative will go until you decide where it begins. And sometimes deciding where it begins simply means remembering that it happened in the first place. And I thought maybe a check stub

would help do that. And I was right. You sent those along and I looked at them and I remembered a dozen things that I don't think, I'm not saying I'd never could have recalled them, obviously, because this triggered my memory, but that's what I mean to say. You know, we surround ourselves with things that trigger us. Interesting word, since everybody's triggered these days by something or other, it seems, but triggered in a good way. That's true. That's very true. I'm glad we sent you those things. Me too. Shamedless plug. Long before she was Peggy Roe. Long before she was Peggy Roe, my mom was Peggy Noble, daughter of Carl and Thelma Noble. It was her father, Carl, who inspired me to pitch a show called Dirty Jobs to the Discovery Channel and later start a foundation that honored the kind of work Carl Noble did for a living, trade work, skilled labor. That foundation is called MicroWorks, and today I'm proud to tell you that we've helped thousands of people get the training they need to begin a career in the skilled trades. In fact, we'd love to help you. You can apply for a work ethic scholarship. right now at microwworks.org. We've set aside $10 million for this year's applicants,

thanks to a number of very effective fundraisers, including the one with my grandfather's name on the label. I refer, of course, to Noble Tennessee Whiskey, K-N-O-B-E-L, which is now available in a variety of delicious mash bills, all of which you can peruse at noblespirates.com. In fact, if you spend 100 bucks and use code Carl, C-A-R-L, you'll get one tube of orange bitter-infused sugar cubes for free. That's code Carl with a C to get nine sugar cubes, ingeniously engineered, to make nine perfect old-fashions every time. It's my favorite way to support Microworks and my favorite whiskey to sip responsibly after a long day of interviewing people on this podcast. Pick up a bottle at noblespirits.com. B-E-L-S-Pirits.com.

Soon may the nobleman come to bring a bottle for everyone. One day when the waitin is done, we'll take a drink and go. I would say that anything that gets you writing again is a good thing or it makes you think about it. You know, Chuck, when you're a writer, you can't not write. And throughout my entire writing career, which began in a very simplistic way right out of college when I started teaching, it began with my writing poetry for my children in the third grade. I wrote poems to introduce units, maybe a unit on animals or community helpers.

I wrote poems to introduce vocabulary, and the kids loved it. And really, that's where my writing career started. And imagine the high of going out onto the playground. watching the girls jump rope and recite rhymes that you wrote. You know, the rhythmic rhyme, you know, there was a young man from the... Man, tuck it, I believe. I believe that's how it goes. Incredible poem. Well, mine are a little more wholesome than that.

But anyway, every phase of my writing life has stories that I wrote during that time. Sure. And I never paid much attention to the... stories, but they're good. I have to say so myself. They are. And so what I've done for my next book, I talk about my writing journey from the time I get out of college to now. And every phase of that journey has stories that I have written and kind of put aside because I wasn't published really until I was in my 60s. And I've got decades of stories.

I wrote a story about my childhood dentist. That is, well, I sent it to Mike, and he really likes it. It's just terrific. It's going to be in my next book. And this guy was such a creep, man. He was one of those guys who just, everything, you know, when you're a hammer, everything you see looks like a nail. And when you're a dentist like this, every tooth you look at needs a filling.

And so he was just a cavity king. And he just filled everybody's mouth with, what did they use back then? Was it gold or? It was probably lead. It's something with lead in it. I thought it was silver, right? Silver? I don't know.

It was a conglomerate, I guess. There's another word for it, but I can't think what it is right now. It was a long time ago, Chuck. Back in those days, you know, good grief. Well, this sounds like my dentist from Baltimore. I remember when I was a kid, I was traumatized by this. My dentist smoked while he worked. I'm not kidding.

He literally was take a puff, set it down in the ashtray, blow it out right, right over my face as he's looking into my mouth. Get out of here. I can't believe that. Drew's story, 100%. Well, my dentist was smoking in his office with his assistant while I was getting numb. They were smoking together and the steam was coming out. And I was a kid. Every kind of smoke, Chuck.

Yeah, I am a little confused. Yeah, yeah. I don't want to give too much away, but my mom is supine in the chair filled with drugs, while her dentist, who's going to find cavities no matter what, is back there with his assistant behind closed doors, fill in another cavity, if you know what I'm saying. Well, they called me, Mr. Drill in Phil. Mr. Drill and Phil, we call it. Oh, yeah. Drill and Phil. Now turn your head and spit. Oh my goodness, that's not nice. No, mine is a little more simple than that. Mine is more childish because I was a kid.

But anyway, so every phase of my writing career has stories that have never seen the light of day, but they're there. And so that's my next book. Well, I don't have a memory, really, that doesn't involve you writing at some point. The way dad walked around the house reading everything out loud is not so different than the way you would always find a moment to sit down and chronicle something. You know, whether it was a poem or whether it was just an observation or a story about your horse, you did that your entire life. And we wouldn't be having this conversation now. And I certainly wouldn't have written the book I wrote to bring it back to me ever so briefly. Had you not sent me one of the first of the moment,

of those stories when you were, what, 77 about the big blue purse, way leads on the way. And at 80, you become a bestselling author. And so that's part of this book, too. It's a big part of it. If I'm understanding it right, that's basically your message these days, wherever you go. You're telling rooms filled with people that it's never too late. And that's great. Yeah, especially in a place like this.

Where it is too late. No, where it isn't. No, it really, it really isn't. I'm amazed. I walked into the quilting room and I wrote about this in one of my posts. There's a room with ladies who like to quilt. And there was a lady at the sewing machine who's 100 years old and she's working on this quilt. And she explained it to me and talked about how she's always loved to sew.

It's never too late. I mean, it's possible she hasn't even done her masterpiece yet, you know? It's possible. You've not yet done your masterpiece. Yeah, that's terrific. Hey, while I'm thinking of it, you've got something coming up in Ocean City. Aren't you opening for Cal Ripkin Jr. In Ocean City?

No, he's opening for me. He's opening for you? That's amazing. His keynote is on the 29th in the evening. He's the big deal. I'm at lunch the next day. Technically, you're right. He's opening for you.

Exactly. It's just 24 hours earlier. And it's for an association called Lifespan, and they are all about senior living facilities, and these are people who are involved in making lives of seniors better. Great. And it's at the convention center. And I am giving a talk, and I got good stuff, too. Is anyone recording this?

You know, I don't know. I didn't ask that question. Well, if they are, let me know. Like you say, everything's content. And if I can't figure out something to do with you and Cal Ripkin, you're on the interwebs. Shame on me. Yeah. This has been fun, Mike.

I always enjoyed getting together with you and Chuck. And what I said is true, I thought that final chapter really summed it up. Well, thanks. And brought the whole picture together very nicely. That story of me in the sewer, it's not just the culmination of events. that led to dirty jobs, which I knew I wanted to tell. It's the reason I have a speaking career. You know, a couple weeks ago, I talked to Ted Ferris.

Ted Ferris, what's his name? Tim. Tim. Tim Ferriss. We're like brothers, me and Ted. And I was on Tim's podcast years ago, and then he came on here, and it was a chance for me to thank him for asking me to tell him about the testicles, which he did at this TED talk back in 2008.

And what came out of that story launched this whole career that I didn't think I would have. But of course, that never would have happened either without this moment, this peripatia in the sewer. And that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't called me that day at Evening Magazine to suggest I do something on TV that looked like work. Way leads on the way, and here we are. And here you are in Oklahoma, working on your third book. And here Chuck is impersonating a producer of a podcast dying to get into what he calls the Lightning Round, whereby you and I will be invited to ask a series of childlike questions.

Chuck? Well, there are a couple of questions that I have that are sort of independent before the lightning round. And the first one is based upon the chapter, the tile part, where you mentioned that you fell face first into the effluvium, as you call it. And you were worried about whether or not you got hepatitis A or B. you know, and it didn't really matter. You probably got both at that point. But it made me think that doing all those dirty jobs, there were a lot of situations where you were around some, what I think

most of us would think of as really gnarly germs. And I wondered, is there a time you can recall that you got really sick from something like that? And if so, how sick and from what? Well, no. Okay, great. Well, then we'll just leave this question out. I got hurt a bunch. Not seriously ever. It was more about bumps and scrapes and stitches and sprains and breaks and things like that. And burns. And burns. Yes, bites.

Bites and burns. The snake episode was just... And the monkey. And the monkey. Yes. And the penguin. The penguin nearly took my eye out. You know what?

It's so funny. If all of them, the penguin could have been the worst. He actually drew blood on my larynx, which I know that must be a nightmare for you. Chuck can't... I don't know if you knew that. I don't know if you knew this, mom, but if you just touch Chuck's throat, his whole tracheo will close, tears will stream. You can't have anything touches. Really?

Yeah, don't do it. Oh, so you don't wear turtleneck shirts that are very terrible? No, no, no, no, no, no turtle necks. This penguin, it just looked at me, just looked like he was dressed for the prom, as penguins always do, harmless, cute, funny, bursting with character, leaned forward and stuck his beak right into my throat and drew. blood right above my larynx. And before I could respond, he did it again right under my eye. This thing could have rendered me both mute and blind in one eye in the space of seconds, and it didn't happen. So no, it's never the big things. And that was a big lesson from dirty jobs. The other big lesson was my relationship with masks and safety and how all of that came back

this last year when masks and safety are, of course, headline news. And we had gone through, all of that, you know, the crew and I getting used to different levels of risk and getting accustomed to different levels of danger. Not that we want to go there in this moment, but it's really been very much on my mind throughout the lockdowns and the pandemic. Our collective relationship with risk and the way we live our life under that umbrella, that was very, very similar to when we were shooting that show. But to answer your question, no, I don't think I ever really got sick at all. I think I've got natural immunity to what you call feces from every species. Great. That's super. I have a question for you, Becky. You know what?

You. Hey, your mom is here. Don't use that kind of language. Don't tell me super. You ask me an open-ended question like that. I don't need my answer evaluated in real time. Just move on to the next question. You're a producer, not a critic. And yet, these opinions just sneak out. Do you see what I have to? to deal with Peggy? I know. My heart goes out to you, Chuck. You think she doesn't know?

I'm pretty sure she does. You know, which reminds me, I have two questions for you, Peggy. One is, was there a moment when you just side with relief looking at Michael and said, I think he's going to be okay? I know when he was a kid, he had a stammer, he was shy, you know, he scurried under the table when the doorbell rang. Do you remember a moment in time when you thought, oh, you know what? I think he's going to be all right.

You know, it might have been when he was in Oklahoma and we heard him sing for the first time. And we saw him in front of people for the first time and very, very comfortable and very proficient in our minds. And I think I might have felt then like, oh, you know, he has something. I think he's going to be all right. Can I just tell you that my experience? is exactly the same because I remember backstage, all the girls wanted to come after they had seen the play, wanted to come backstage and get their picture taken with Mike. And it was the first time that I was really aware that Mike was getting more attention from the ladies than I thought I deserved. True story. Yeah. Well, he got a lot of attention this week when he was here in Oklahoma. That one little lady was so sweet. And she was on a walker and she walked right up to you.

And she said, I saw you on television and you were dirty. She was cute, very innocent. I thought you were going to talk about the one who pulled me aside and said, you know, you're on my list. Oh, my God. You're my hall pass. My husband and I have an arrangement and you're my get out of jail. I'm like, really? your husband's here with you yes and how old is he 97 and how old are you the same well you know what

that's okay when you're 97 you can say anything you want you do have a free pass you know i've always been an older woman but at some point chuck at some point you got to draw the line somewhere well if they're older than your mother i think probably that's suspect okay so here is Here's the last question for you before the lightning ground. And this is that Mike always talks about the phone call he got when your dad was in ill health and saying, you know, just once it would be great if your grandfather could tune in and see you doing something on TV that looks like work. That's the way Mike heard it. How did you hear it? Pretty much the same way. Yeah, pretty much the same way. And I knew about Mike trying his hand at certain things and failing.

I mean, in wood shop, he was a total failure. But he wanted so badly to bring something home to show his grandfather. And my father, he had the most faith in everybody. He never thought badly of anybody. And he knew Mike was going to find something that he could do before it was all over. And so, yeah, I might not have said those exact words, but it certainly had the same sentiment as Mike expressed. Great.

Great. Good answer. All right, here's the lightning round. We'll start with you, Peggy. When will you be done writing your next book? I'm hoping I will be finished by December. Excellent. Mike, how about you? I'm hoping to be finished by December. Did you catch any of that tone in there, Peggy? Yes, I think maybe he was mimicking me. December of what year, hon? Well played. Well played. Listen, I'm still in that phase where I'm doing other things to what we call earn a living,

keeping the lights on, eight people who sort of work for me. The foundation is entering a new phase. So, yes, while I'd love to sit down and focus only on that, I have miles to go before I sleep or write. It's coming, but as Pop used to say, so is Christmas. Right. Okay, in the movie that will invariably be done about your life, Peggy, who would you like to have play you? Oh, for goodness sake, a movie. Well, now, you mean a young Peggy or a current Peggy? Yes, imagine, you know, an actress of a caliber like, like Merrill Streep.

Thank you. That's why I was thinking. I couldn't recall her name in that moment. She hasn't done much. No, no. I know. Well, but she's coming along nicely. I saw her in something the other day. she'll be just fine. She'll be just fine. Yes, a young Peggy at various stages of your life. Young Peggy, just getting married Peggy, you know, Peggy of today. You know, it's funny. Mike was interviewed last week by a little girl about eight years old, and I think maybe she could be a young Peggy. By the time the play gets written or the book gets written or the movie. Eddie, that's one of the best interviews I've ever done,

actually. It was hysterical. And you know, like she is wise beyond her years in that. She asked you a question. She didn't go back to her list while you were answering to bone up for the next question. She actually listened to your answer and reacted when you said something about a burrito and you were sitting on the toilet and she was really taking it all in. She was along for the ride, for sure. Indeed. She was excellent. Yeah. Good interview. Single hardest thing to do as an interviewer is just, and I'm guilty of this as well, but two ears, one mouth. Yeah. Listen.

Chuck does it well, too. Sorry, what were you saying? He grips off a lot. And, of course, he's heavily medicated. Well, it's a whole larynx thing. Nice callback. I love it. Mike, what about you?

Who's going to play you? Like young, Mike or Mike at QVC? Sure. Yeah, Mike at QVC, Mike Dirty Jobs. Mike six degrees. Like Mike right now, I'd go with Rob Lowe. I think he would be interesting. Although, I mean, if you're going to go with Rob Lowe, you might as well go with me.

So again, to bring this back to me ever so briefly, I think I'd go ahead and play me, Chuck. You're going to do a, what's his name? What was the guy's name who did that in his own movie? Merrill Streep. No, not Meryl Streep. The radio guy. Why can't I think of his name? I can't think of anybody's name.

Rush Limbaugh. No. Limble. Limbaugh. Geez. Oh, whiz. No, no. We'll just shut the podcast down while this thing comes to you.

I'll edit all this out. Oh, really? Oh, good. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So it'll sound like I just said, hey, you remember. Just like the, what is that guy's name? Orson Wells. The fuzzy hair.

Bob Ross. No, not Bob. He was on the radio. He was on the radio in New York. He said, you like. He liked his book. And he has fuzzy hair? What does fuzzy hair even mean?

Like an afro? Or what? Yeah, kind of, kind of a... White guy, black guy, give me a hint. White guy. White guy. Howard Stern. Howard Stern.

Howard Stern. Howard Stern. Howard Stern played himself in a movie called private parts. Which was about the life of. Called private parts. Yeah. Which was based on his life. He played him in high school and stuff like that.

It was ridiculous. That's correct. Right. That's what I would do. I would, as a 59-year-old man, play myself getting suspended, for instance, from high school, throwing a smoke bomb, which, of course, we all learned in a prior chapter. That's what I would do. I would play myself.

Like a man for all seasons, that's what I would do. Modesty aside. Perfect. Final question. Okay, final question. I was just going to ask your mom, if she had somebody, if she agreed with the Rob Lois assessment or you playing yourself. I can tell you what my mother would say.

What would she say? Gregory Peck, back from the dead. Gregory Peck plays everybody all of the time. Gregory Peck is the only... Tell me if I'm wrong, Mom, but I think that was your hall pass. Poor dad, if you ever run into Gregory Peck in this life for the next one, party's over. No, I wasn't that bad. And your middle name is Gregory because I've always liked to name Gregory.

I wonder why? It just happened that Gregory Peck's name was Gregory. Really? I didn't, that's not your first name, you know. No, I do know that. I mean, as far as I know. You've seen your own driver's license, right? You know, if this podcast ends with Mike coming to the realization that his name is not Mike,

that would be a big closer. That would be big. No, your name is. That'd be a real parapetia, a bit of an agneresis. Indeed. All right. Last question, and then we're out of here. Would you rather travel 100 years into the future or 100 years into the past?

Oh, my goodness. Assuming the time travel is legal and, you know, do it possible. I'll go into the past any day. Although, I do like modern dental practices much better. Now, that's a callback. And medication in general and drugs are much more, they're much more effective these days than they were 100 years ago. Well, Chuck, is this a permanent sort of thing?

Like, do you spend the rest of your life 100 years in the future? No, I was like you just travel back for like, you know, like a vacation, two weeks. You're going to go somewhere. You're either going to go 100 years in the past or 100 years in the future, which would you rather see a glimpse of the past or a glimpse of the future? Yeah, I'd really get back. I'm scared of the future. Yeah, I'd like to get back to 1918. Really check out that pandemic, that whole Spanish flu.

I wonder what that was like. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, I wonder what that was like to be locked down and have everybody masked up and scared half out of their minds. Oh, I can't imagine. I don't want to see that. Right. So maybe you go to the future. No, there's a lot of good stuff in the past I would like to see.

I'd like to see a lot of family stuff. Oh, yeah. Wouldn't it be interesting to see your dad as a small boy? Oh, yeah. You could get a picture, like I asked you for a picture of your dad. Oh, I know. The only picture I had was of him being confirmed at the age of 12, and he had a suit on. He wasn't doing any, you know, electrical work or anything like that.

or building anything. Mom, is it, you told me this once, and I just want to confirm it. I know Pop didn't have any sons, but do you know of any more nobles? Have you found any more nobles in the country, K-N-O-B-E-L? I have not. I have not. He had, you know, he had one brother who died fairly young. Mm-hmm.

And I don't know of any uncles with the name Noble, spelled that way. So I think it's pretty unique. I've looked. I can't find anybody. It's like the name is gone. And so as we've discussed, you know, hopefully by the end of this year, we're going to roll out some Tennessee whiskey under the name of Noble. And that's why Chuck was looking for a photo of pop in his youth. But if they don't exist, then.

I mean, if you don't mind him looking cleaned up. No, it's all right. I mean, I don't know about a confirmation picture on a bottle of whiskey. That sends a bit of a mixed message. Because he's next to the preacher. He's standing next to the preacher. Who's holding a Bible. Yeah, that might not be a good idea.

It's very similar to the Jack Daniels story. Right, right, right, right. Oh, boy. Well, I know you're late, Mom. Thank you for making time. Thank you for being my mother. Thank you for being an inspiration to so many and for all your many words of wisdom. It's my pleasure.

I feel honored for you to use those words about me. Wisdom. I don't think I rise. Promptness? I try. You're very prompt. That's something. Am I?

Yeah, I try to be prompt. I mean, you were prompt for this call, and now we've made you late for your next appointment. Well, I won't be late if I can leave right now. It's 2.30. Oklahoma starts at three. Are the wind comes sweeping down the plane? All right. all those old people there, I said hello, and I look forward to seeing them again next month

when I come back for another unscheduled. Really because they're asking me right and left, when will you be back? And I'll be back. And I can say maybe next month. Well, yeah, we can say it. Privileously, though, if you're not really coming. Look at you shaking your crooked finger at me again. Are you pointing at me or Chuck?

Who can tell? Yeah, who can tell? I'm not sure. She did it with both hands, so it could have been both. That's what it was. All right, Mom. Say hi to Dad. I love you.

I will do that. Love you too. I'm not sure how to get out of here. Don't hang up. Don't hang up. We got to upload all this. Oh, okay. Sorry. Oh, hey, real quick, yeah, because I'm contractually obligated, the story, the chapter

you just listen to, the whole book can be downloaded over at Audible, wherever people download books. But the only place to listen to each chapter being just exhaustively unpacked and analyzed. Dysected. Dissected. is right here. But we have come to the end of the book next week, Chuck. I'm not sure what you want to do, but I was thinking maybe just open it up to Q&A from the fans of the podcast as we figure out how best to move forward.

Something like that, maybe? I love this idea. Love this idea. All right. Well, I'll share this episode on Facebook and invite people to ask questions. And we'll do that next week. And that's it. Did I just hear the toilet flush in the background? No, I was moving the lamp. I had the lamp here so you can see my face. Do it again. It sounds just like a toilet flushing. Go ahead and push that lamp away. Yep. That's how the podcast ends. Love you. Love you, too. Can I get rid of you now? One second. Hang on.

When Jennifer Bergstrom over at Simon & Schuster first encouraged me to write a book, I told her I'd get back to her. Ten years later, I did, and learned to my surprise that her offer was still good. I'm grateful to Jen for her extraordinary patience with me, along with the support of her excellent team, Karen Marcus, Amy Bell, Jennifer Long, Molly Gregory, Jennifer Robinson, John Farrow, Caroline Palada, Steve Breslin, and Jamie Ptoorty,

all of whom tolerated my endless rewrites and chronic disregard for internal deadlines with understanding and good humor. I'm equally indebted to everyone at MicroWorks, in particular, Mary Sullivan, Chuck Klaus Meyer, and Jada Strata, who looked on in horror as I vanished from View for several months to impersonate a writer and wondered, quite rightly, if I would ever return.

Without their loyalty and support, this book would not exist. I'm also grateful to Sean McCourt and Susan Lee Smith, whose early ideas from my podcast have found their way into the preceding pages. I'm much obliged to you both. Alex Abramovich, a wreck of a man, but one heck of a writer, was instrumental in assembling and shaping the preceding pages. Alex also recommended I use Mars. Salas Hall to provide the illustrations, which I think are terrific. Thank you both for making this book better than it would have otherwise been. Finally, I'd like to thank the listeners of the way I heard it, and the five million people who continue to frequent my Facebook page of my many

masters. You are the ones that matter most, with a notable exception, of my parents to whom this book is dead. The ocean moves us, whether that's surfing a wave or taken in an inspiring view. The ocean feeds us. Sustainable seafood practices bring the ocean's bounty to our plates. The ocean teaches us. How our everyday choices, big and small, make an impact.

The ocean delights us as playful otters restore coastal kelp forests. The ocean connects us. Find your connection at monterey Bay Aquarium.org slash connects. If you work in university maintenance, Granger considers you an MVP because your playbook ensures your arena is always ready. for tip off and Granger is your trusted partner. Offering the products you need all in one place, from HVAC and plumbing supplies to lighting and more, and all delivered with plenty of time left on the clock, so your team always gets the win. Call 1-800 Granger, visit granger.com or just stop by

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