Commercial Narrator (16:41)

We'll be right back.

WhatsApp Advertiser (16:46)

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Narrator / Storyteller (17:15)

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Jen Curran (17:19)

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Narrator / Storyteller (17:20)

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Kevin Allison (17:28)

We'Re back.

Jen Curran (17:33)

So I think that if you don't know me that well, I probably seem like an upstanding young lady. I keep in touch with my grandmother and make my bed every day. But I do have a few dirty little secrets that you would probably not guess just by looking at me. I have a stealing problem. In fact, I was once even fired for embezzling. And that's true. I heard a gasp. Is that. Is my boss here?

Narrator / Storyteller (18:08)

No.

Jen Curran (18:08)

But it was a harrowing time in my life, I will say. And I've sort of always had this stealing quirk, let's call it. I just don't feel ethical issues with thievery. I really don't. I would not take anything from my close friends or my family, but my mercy doesn't really extend very far beyond that. In the fifth grade, I can remember being asked to be one of the students to sell milks to the other students during the cafeteria. At the cafeteria during lunch. And I was very proud and excited to have this job. We had to sell the milks for a quarter and then bring all of the earnings to the head lunch lady at the end of the lunch period.

Musical Interlude Singer (18:54)

Well.

Jen Curran (18:56)

Let'S just say that I can remember selling the chocolate and vanilla milks to my adoring public and then grabbing fistfuls of the quarters from the cashbox. More gasping Pocketing it Fistful after fistful. 10 years old, had a mom and a dad, had a great house, great life, food. It was all going well. But I couldn't stop myself. These quarters were bright and shiny. They were beautiful. And I can vividly remember holding like a nice chunk of them in my sweaty little paw immediately after stealing them. I would walk to the other side of the cafeteria to lunch ladies who were selling other special treats for a quarter. And I would put the stolen milk money down on the counter and buy myself special treats. These ladies always eyed me suspiciously. Where is this 10 year old getting $40 worth of quarters? But they never said anything about it. I never got confronted, I never got in trouble. It was never a problem. And this taught me something at a very young age. It taught me that I did not seem like someone who would steal. And it also taught me that I was really good at it. And that ended up being a very dangerous combination. In high school, I would take money out of the register at my retail job here and there. In college, I would occasionally shoplift earrings or socks, small stuff, you know. I once even took some money out of the piggy bank of a kid I was babysitting for. Now, to my credit, that kid was an asshole. And if he hadn't been such an asshole, maybe that wouldn't have happened to him. We'll never know. So by the time I was in my mid-20s, I had landed a pretty good day job at a major university, working in the business school as an office assistant. And I was also at a place in my personal life where I was looking to steal anything that wasn't bolted down. It was just exciting for me. I got a rush from it. I felt smarter than everybody else. I felt invincible. And plus, as a kid who had just graduated college, I was broke. So it was awesome to be able to get stuff that I wanted. So one day I had an idea. I had a little key to a textbook closet at the university. I let myself into the closet, gathered up a bunch of textbooks, and then I walked across campus to the campus bookstore where I returned the books for cash that I kept. They had a policy where you could return books without a receipt. And I made $81 that afternoon. So I started doing that a lot. I couldn't help myself. It was just working. And it was a plan that some have called ingenious. And it was ingenious. And it worked for a really long time until I started to get nervous about it. Not because I felt guilty or I felt remorse because I Didn't. I had absolutely no regret connected to it, except for myself. I started to worry that I was gonna get caught. And when I got caught, I was gonna get fired and have to go to jail. And then everybody I knew was gonna find out my truth, which is that I was a thug. So after one particularly harrowing night of insomnia, I decided to confess to some friends that I had been doing this just to kind of bounce it off them, see what they said. A couple of my close guy friends came to my office for lunch the next day, and I admitted the whole scheme. Books, bookstore, returning them cash, keeping it, blah, blah. Now, they said something that really surprised me. First of all, they said, this plan is ingenious. Second of all, don't be ridiculous. This is a major university. This is built into the system. The system anticipates this. That's what I think I said. Even though I knew deep down that we were all terribly wrong. I just wanted it to be true, you know, I wanted to keep getting stuff for nothing. I wanted to continue to have this exciting life. So that very afternoon, I went upstairs, stole a couple more books, probably some titles on the economy or something, walked them over to the campus bookstore, got the cash, took myself out to dinner, took a cab back to my apartment, got a manicure, pedicure, bought some marijuana, all for the retail price of a tome of higher education. Now, it was a lovely night, it was a beautiful evening, and my worries were assuaged. But the next morning, I got a voicemail. When I got to the office from the. The HR department, they said, come down here, we want to talk to you. So the walk from my office to the HR department was about 12,000 miles, and I had plenty of time to think about what was about to happen. It felt like it was the end of an era. I just knew, you know, it was almost like I was walking to my death, but not nearly as badass. And I was wearing business casual. When I got to her office, she sat me down and she straightened out her skirt. And the HR lady said, exactly what I've been dreading. Is there any reason that you would be taking books from your office and returning them to the bookstore for cash that you're keeping? No, I would never do that, I said. She said, okay, well, we have a huge file folder full of documents that list every single title of every single book we think you've stolen. And you can see that the retail value is a total of $1,732.32. Do any of These book titles look familiar to you? No, I have never seen any of those in my life. And then she said the five words I will never forget. She said, we have you on video. So I asked to be excused to the restroom and she let me go, which I thought was surprising. And when I got to the bathroom, I thought, I have to figure out how to deal with this because I'm in way over my head here. I still don't feel bad. I just feel bad for myself that I got caught and this lady is not going to let me out of her office without a pair of handcuffs on unless I can somehow talk her into feeling some pity for me, right? So I looked myself dead in the eyes in the mirror and I said out loud in this cavernous public restroom, okay, Jen, what would you do if you had murdered someone and you got caught doing that? Now, I realize that comparing stealing books to murder might seem a little off, might be a little bit of a weeds, Nancy Botwinesque approach to life, but I didn't feel like I had another choice. To be honest. I could not drum up the remorse from anywhere about the fucking book stealing. So I had to pretend like I had done something I would actually feel bad about and go in and give this lady a piece of my mind. So I knew what I had to do. Walked back into her office and I said, listen, I am really, really sorry. I totally did this. It's obviously fucked up. I need help. It's a personal problem. Fire me, make me pay back the money, but please don't press charges. She wasn't that impressed with this confession. She said, obviously, I know you did it, you idiot. You're fire. Get the fuck out of here, pack your shit, and you'll be hearing from legal tomorrow with the consequences. So I didn't get very much sleep that night either. I knew that I was fired. I was definitely broke. I had all kinds of bills to pay and I didn't know how I was going to do it. Probably should have thought of that and save some of the textbook money, but I didn't. And so I got a call the very next morning from the man at the legal department. And I knew he was going to tell me that I was going to have to go to court and go to jail and my grandma was going to find out the truth. But he said to me something else. He said, I'm calling to confirm your termination, and I'm also calling to let you know that we will not be pressing charges, but we do want you to pay back the money over the course of 12 months. Awesome. I couldn't believe this. I had gotten fired from a job that was boring and stuffy, that I probably never would have quit on my own. And not only was I not going to jail for stealing all these textbooks, but I had a year to pay back less than $2,000. It was barely an inconvenience, and I think I almost regretted that because I wanted there to be some more dire consequence so I would be scared out of doing this for the rest of my life. But that just wasn't it. A couple months later, I got accused of stealing some cash out of the register at a box office job I had. I didn't actually take that money, I don't think, but getting accused of stealing something that I hadn't actually stolen felt like the karma that I was expecting would be coming. And that's actually what scared me into stopping the thug life for good. I didn't steal anything after that. Never again. I paid back all the bookstore money and I moved on with my life. I mean, I can't set foot anywhere in or near that university again, but that's not a problem. So I had a really interesting thing happen a couple days ago that is pretty fascinating considering I was planning to tell this story tonight even though I haven't stolen anything in however long it's been. Nine, 10 years. I was home in the Midwest at an antique store with my mom, and I walked out of the store wearing a piece of costume jewelry that I hadn't paid for. Nobody saw me. I walked out, and I wasn't even really quite sure if I did it on purpose or by accident. I really, really don't know. But as soon as I, like frontal lobe, realized what I had done, I went back to the store and returned the ring. And the guy thanked me for my honesty, blah, blah, blah. So I guess you could say that I used to have a stealing problem. And getting over it actually taught me the greatest lesson I think I have learned in my life so far. Unless you kill somebody, nothing in life is that big of a deal.

Musical Interlude Singer (29:51)

One foot in their fiction One man to me when is this whole world gonna dream again? Can't live on what's given man's dad, dad Tell me when is this old world gonna dream? The bank has a little Unable to keep Sun's getting hotter I no longer sleep well I stare out the window Watch the night creep back Wonder is wonder How I want to do what.

Kevin Allison (30:44)

This is Risk. This is Vetiver behind me now. Risk Music Intern Sarah Irvin turned me on to this song. If you would like to be a Risk music intern, just write to me at kevinrisk-show.com we just heard from Jen Curran, who is a member of the fantastic sketch comedy group Harvard Sailing Team. You can find them@harvardsailingteam.com that was from the Risk Live show in Los Angeles, which happens every fourth Thursday at the Nerdmelt Theater. In a little bit, we're going to hear from Julie Threlkeld. But first, Mather Zickle Mather is a very fine actor. He is known for films like I Love youe man and Rachel Getting Married and Wanderlust. Friend of mine and friend of everyone in the state from back in our college days. Here he is at the Risk Live show at the Nerd Melt Theater in Los Angeles with a story we call you've Made Worms Meat of Me.

Commercial Narrator (32:00)

I'm going to tell a story that takes place in the mid-90s. So right off the bat, you know that this is going to involve the dangers of rollerblades and also of men with long grunge hair. And I, you know, I sampled both of these things at the time. I remember raised at, you know, I lived in New York City for years, and I used to go out with my friends in the middle of the night. We would like, rollerblade around town and, you know, like, my hair would be going skating around. It'd be like 2am on a Monday. And we would literally, like, grab onto the back of a garbage truck and skate down to the financial district. The financial district was a great place to skate because it was completely abandoned after business hours. We would just, like, cruise down to, like, Zuccotti park, where the Occupy Wall street movement later galvanized. And, you know, it was perfect. It had, like, ramps and stairs and you could jump around and whatever. And I usually wore the same kind of clothes. I had a black leather motorcycle jacket and these black jeans. And I would get on my skates with my friends and we would just cruise around. I mean, the black leather jacket and the jean, it really was a uniform of sorts. It was. I had been wearing some kind of leather jacket ever since high school, ever since I did grease in 10th grade when I played Kinecki. I had some kind of leather jacket because I thought, you know, I wanted it. I wanted to look tough. I thought it looked tough. I thought girls would like it. I thought they would find it kind of dangerous or sexy. At least. At the very least, I thought people would consider me a Person not to be trifled with, which was most important to me at that time. So this is how I would skate around. And, you know, it didn't matter particularly that, you know, that I was an acting student, student of the theater. I mean, you know, I was really of the attitude, like, yeah, I love Stephen Sondheim and. Yeah, and I don't mind mixing it up either. A lot of guys in theater school kind of dressed like this too at the time. I mean, it was like some kind of overcompensation thing that I think we were all affected by. You know, like I was like some hard ass biker dude or something, except I didn't ride a motorcycle. I rode Rollerblades. And about this time, I also really wanted to do Shakespeare. I was a big fan of Shakespeare. So I auditioned for a production of Romeo and Juliet down at the Mill Mountain Theater in Roanoke, Virginia, and I got cast in the role of Tybalt. For those of you who are not familiar with Romeo and Juliet, you should go back to high school. But in short, you know, Tybalt is a cousin of Juliet. He's a member of the Capulet family. He's always getting into street brawls with the Montague boys, you know, Romeo's family. And he's kind of like. It's a very fun part. He's kind of like. He's kind of like an aristocratic badass. You know, he's a bit of a dandy, but he could also kill you. You know, he's a little bit like a. Like a psycho preppy jock who, you know, who can considers himself above the law. And he's got a terrible temper and he's a great swordsman. And I think this is one of the reasons that I got cast in the role, because I was a trained swordsman. You think it's funny? It's true, actually. I have a certificate from NYU saying that I am proficient in five weapons, including quarterstaff. Of course, this wasn't. I don't really know how to duel for real. This is stage combat. I did fake fights, but it was good enough for the Mill Mountain Theater, so they gave me the part at Tybalt. So I grabbed my leather jacket and packed up my rollerblades and I headed off to Roanoke, Virginia. And while I was down there during rehearsals, I became friends with the actor who played Romeo. Turned out we had a couple of mutual friends from New York. We both liked drinking and playing Risk and. And it turned out that he too had also brought his leather jacket and his rollerblades. So one day, a few days before we opened the show, we decided to go out for a little skate around Roanoke, Virginia. And, you know, we had our leather jackets on and long hair flowing, and we were just kind of cruising around town. And I remember we came to this. To this street which was like a big incline, a big hill that we had to go up. So we're just sort of digging our way up, slowly grinding up the hill at one mile an hour in our Rollerblades. And when we're about halfway up the hill, I notice in the other lane a car coming down the hill in the opposite lane. And as they pass us by, I happen to look over and I see a guy giving us the finger from the car window, which I didn't understand because, I mean, you know, here we were, two strangers to this somewhat economically depressed Southern city, you know, doing a nice little local production of Romeo and Juliet, and just, you know, skating around dressed in leather jackets. I didn't get this. And I think Romeo later told me that he heard faggot being yelled at us. Once again, I didn't get it. I mean, we were too totally straight Shakespearean actors from New York City who liked to wear protective leather clothing when we went rollerblading around places we weren't familiar with. So, you know, it made no sense to me. So, you know, so I gave him the finger back, and the car passed us by, and we kept going up the hill. And I was like, romeo, I have a feeling that that car is going to turn around any second. And he said, why do you say that? And this is my bad Australian accent. He's Australian. He's like, why? And I said, because I gave him the finger, and they look like they want to kick our ass. And he was just like, oh, no. Why would you do that? Which was a great question. Why would I do that? I think it's because I really kind of wanted it. I secretly wanted it because I had a chip on my shoulder. Because I still wanted to prove to the world that I was someone who couldn't be fucked with. I didn't want to take shit from anyone, particularly when I'm wearing my black leather motorcycle jacket and, you know, this guy's crewmed by, you know, some fuck stick is giving me the finger, you know, while I'm wearing my leather jacket. You know, I looked like Chris Cornell from fucking Soundgarden. Who the fuck did he think he was? So I flipped him off and, you know, but of course, Romeo was just like, fuck you. You know, he was Pissed. And sure enough, we turn around, and we could see three guys about our age, our size, hurrying up the hill after us. Now, two of them kind of branch to the side, and they start going after Romeo. They start following him. And the other one is coming towards me. And I could smell his breath, like, 10ft before he got to me. He was totally drunk. And being on Rollerblades is not the greatest position to get into a fist fight. You don't want to be on rollerblades. It's a great position if you want to escape. It's perfect for escaping, which is smartly, exactly what Romeo did. Not so the fiery tippled. No. I turned and met my man. What wouldst thou have with me? Turn thee, Benvolio, and look upon thy. And he spits on me. I hate that. It was so disgusting. It was so shocking to me that he would spit on me. It just. It seemed like against the rules somehow, you know? I mean, getting the finger from somebody is one thing. Getting spit on is something else. So I grabbed this guy by the shirt, and we collapse to the ground because I'm on rollerblades. And now I'm on top of him on the ground. I'm pinning him to the sidewalk next to the street. But then his two friends come back because Romeo had gone on. His two friends come back, and they start kicking me. I'm on top of this guy. These guys are kicking me. I'm FaceTime. But somewhere, somewhere in the distance, I can still hear, you know, a voice go, mother. Which was Romeo standing in the middle of the street somewhere. And apparently he was trying to, like, stop a car. He was trying to get some kind of help from somewhere, which, thank God, he eventually did. He flags down a car, pulls over. Three people get out, and they rush across the street to where I'm, like, sprawled down on the sidewalk and, you know, like, the cavalry had arrived. And then proceeded to join the other people in kicking me while I was on the ground. They all knew each other. All these people knew each other. So now I had, like, five people around me, like, kicking me. And I had this one guy under, you know, and. But I had this. I had this moment. I was, like, shelled up. They were kicking my arms and my legs. And I was on top of this guy and pinning this guy. And I was just like. I just knew that I shouldn't hit this guy. I never hit him. I never punched him. And I knew this was smart because I knew if I did, then it would suddenly become a lot more real. I would have upped the stakes, and then they would have broken my ribs. They would have kicked my ribs in or kicked me in the head, which they did. And right now, I could feel that there was something kind of fake. There was something just kind of not really invested about the whole thing. And I was all right. And then suddenly it all just vanished. It dispersed. They suddenly. All these people who were around me just suddenly went away. And I still don't really know why. I don't. I mean, maybe they got bored. I don't know. You know, maybe a police cruiser drove by. Maybe a Honda Odyssey full of Capulets showed up. You know, I don't know. It's like. Or maybe just like some real adult just got out of a car and was like, cut the shit. And they all, like, split, you know, because this was stupid. And, you know, they all kind of disperse and get back in their cars. And I get back up off this guy, and he gets up and we just had this moment of looking at each other like, what are we going to do next? You know, it was just this strange, awkward moment. And, you know, I actually had the thought that, you know, we. That we should shake hands. You know, this actually occurred to me, like, this thought, because, you know, it was over. And, you know, we. Nobody was really hurt, and we. Neither of us had backed down. Our honor was secure. You know, of course, I wasn't really happy about getting spit on by this guy, but, you know, that was all in the past. And he punches me straight in the eye, like, square in the eye. He opens up a cut, and I'm bleeding down my face because, you know. Because this guy wasn't interested in my, you know, my genteel notions of sportsmanship. I mean, no, this. There's a guy driving around drunk on a Wednesday at 3, and he hated my Rollerblades and he hated my leather jacket and he hated my fucking face. So he punched it. We just had different notions of what this fighting was. And I think my one point, the one thing I was very proud of was that I didn't go down from this punt. This seemed like a great victory to me because he punched me and I started bleeding. And then he just kind of stared at me, and I was just kind of staring at him with blood running down my face, you know, like standing on an incline in roller blades, you know, like, kind of. And then he just took off. And I was like, I guess that was it, you know? And that was really the only damage from the fight. It was this cut. I Had above my eye. And conveniently, this whole. This whole fight happened right across the street from the hospital. So it was really just a short skate right over to the emergency room, and they stitched me up. And I had a shiner and bragging rights for a couple of days. Whatever. I got in a fight. I was trying to impress this woman I liked who worked at the local coffee shop. Yeah, I'll take the extra bold today. Sorry, I'm ugly. And, you know, because the. The official story was that we, you know, that we had just had been jumped by some local hoods. And, you know, so I was getting a lot of attention and sympathy. It's kind of cool. And the theater wanted to press charges. They wanted to find these guys and press charges, which I didn't want to do because I didn't want them to know that I had exacerbated the situation, that I kind of asked for this fight. And Romeo, you know, he kind of. He backed me up. He never said any differently. But, you know, within a few days, like, this kind of. This tension sort of formed between us because. Because I resented that he didn't fight. He didn't, you know, that he didn't join me in the fight. I was mad. And he resented that I started the fight or picked it up and that I got him involved. And I suddenly started feeling guilty about, you know, about the shiner and the attention I was getting. And I started thinking that, like, maybe I wasn't the hero in this story. You know, maybe I'm kind of the asshole. Maybe I really am. Tybalt. And I never. I didn't get into another fight for, you know, I figured I would have learned something about fighting, and I really didn't. The next fight I got into was. It was 10 years later. And it was remarkable because it happened in exactly the same way, just about. I mean, there was spitting. There was, like, shirt grabbing. I grabbed someone by their shirt, and they were struggling. And I came down and, like, you know, fell on top of the guy. And then this guy's nine friends surrounded me, and they knocked me unconscious with a brick to the head. So that's so. Shows what I fucking learned about fighting between my 20s and my 30s. I don't know what that. You know, now I'm in my 40s. I don't know what this next fight's going to be like. But at least the second fight, I wasn't wearing rollerblades, thank you very much. This is roller skating, America's favorite fun sport. A wholesome year Round recreation teenagers rated tops for exciting fun and for wholesome recreation. Joy to be men.

Narrator / Storyteller (47:45)

I was born in 1965, right smack in the middle of the Vietnam War. My father was a combat reporter for CBS News. Although I was born in Manhattan, I spent the majority of the first few years of my life living in Southeast Asia, first in Singapore and then in Saigon. During that time, I really didn't see my father that often because he was usually on or near the front. But in 1970, right after my fifth birthday, my family and I moved back to the States. And the war was still going on. But Nixon was drawing down troops. And as a news story, there was a definite lull in the war. And my dad had gotten an offer to work for the local CBS affiliate in San Francisco, and he took the job. And the town that my parents chose to settle with my sister and I in is a town called Mill Valley, which is in Marin county in California. It's northeast of San Francisco, right over the Golden Gate Bridge. And the, the Bay Area offered my parents everything that the Midwest, where they both grew up, couldn't offer. Things like an ocean and modern houses and temperate weather and good food and great wine. And this was a place that called to both of them. My father worked in the news station and he worked very long hours, but we saw him every evening. And in some ways, California represented a huge step forward for our family because it was really going to be the first time after a lot of years of geographical upheaval and long separations, that we were all going to be together in a nice place. So like I said, Mill Valley was a very nice place. And it was, in fact, so nice that we couldn't actually afford to move there on my father's local and newsman's salary. Our house cost $45,000, which doesn't sound like much today, but in 1970, that was hideously expensive. And the only reason we could buy our house was because my father had spent years illegally trading US Dollars for Vietnamese piastres on the massive black marketing currency during the Vietnam War. And everyone had done this and, and everyone. And in that time he had socked away a small fortune, and it was enough to pay for a very nice five bedroom house in one of the most affluent towns in one of the most affluent counties in America. The centerpiece of the town was a huge mountain, Mount Tamalpais. We lived halfway up the mountain. And in some ways, Mill Valley was kind of a magical place. The houses were all randomly stuck into the side of the mountainside like jewels under a canopy of old growth redwood trees that reached hundreds of feet into the air in some cases. And all of these vertical neighborhoods were connected by an intricate latticework of hiking trails and hundreds of and hundreds of old wooden steps. Socially, Mill Valley was this really weird combination of small town familiarity mixed with obscene amounts of wealth. Lots of New Age navel gazing and famous people. The town attracted rock royalty. Jerry Garcia lived there, Janis Joplin had lived there for a while. John and Yoko summered there. One day we found a dog wandering around in our yard and my mother called the number on the tag and 15 minutes later, Carlos Santana was standing at our front door asking if he could please have his dog back. Even our next door neighbors, Peter and Jackie, were rock stars. Peter Kaukonen was a guitarist for the Jefferson Airplane and his wife Jackie was the band's office manager. And I really liked Jackie, not because of her minor celebrity, but because she was the first adult I'd ever met who didn't talk down to me. I wasn't even 7 years old, but I was a lot like I am now. You know, I was interested in things, I could hold a conversation. And Jackie respected and appreciated this. And at 27, she was the coolest grown up I knew. She had this potent combination of charisma, intelligence and warmth. And she had wild long blond hair and she wore these huge tinted glasses and flowery dresses and she always smelled great. And she was from England, so she had an exotic accent. So what I'm really trying to get around to is if you had the choice, who would you rather hang around with after school? A bunch of 7 year olds or a woman who played poker with Keith Moon? It's no fucking contest. And I like to think that Jackie found me as charming as I found her, because otherwise I have no explanation for why she let me spend so much time hanging around at her, her and Peter's house. It was a great place for any kid, but for me especially, it was a place where I could escape the growing tension between my parents and my own home. Peter and Jackie had a house full of musical instruments. They had a complete drum set, which is a lot of fun when you're seven. And they had a piano, and a house was completely filled with acoustic and electric guitars, which they were these pieces of art that Peter could make sing. And the best part of their house was their reptile collection. They had this menagerie of exotic lizards and a big snake. In late March 1972, about a week before I turned seven, the North Vietnamese launched the Easter offensive. Which was a massive military attack on Southern Vietnam that no one expected. And overnight, Vietnam was suddenly the world's biggest news story. Again, CBS needed experienced reporters on the ground. My father didn't wait to get asked. He volunteered without telling my mother beforehand. And she was against it, obviously. Not just because it was incredibly dangerous, which it was. But I think also because in the two years that we lived in Mill Valley. We had finally begun to build the life that she wanted for herself and for us. And as for me, I had kind of just started to get to know my dad by doing everyday things with him. We'd get up on Saturday mornings and watch Warner Brothers brother's cartoons. I'd help him wash his Volkswagen Beetle in the driveway. And sometimes we'd drive over the mountain and go to the beach. With the exception of these two years in Mill Valley. My experience of my father had been largely limited to seeing him on television or hearing him on the radio. And his experience of me had been largely limited to cassette tapes that my sister and I would record of ourselves to send to him wherever he was. And it's only now that I realize how totally bizarre this was. So one afternoon around this time, I was over at Peter and Jackie's house. And Jackie mentioned that she needed to go into the city to buy food for the reptiles. And did I want to go. And it was the best little trip. Jackie and I drove in together, just the two of us, into San Francisco. I got to sit in the front seat. I never got to sit in the front seat. And we drove into Chinatown, where the pet supply store was. And as we were walking toward the entrance, Jackie hesitated. And she looked at me and she said, now listen. Today I'm buying a live mouse. And I said, why are you buying a mouse? For a pet? No, because it's what the snake eats. Can't the snake eat a dead mouse? No, it can't. It won't eat the mouse unless it's alive. And she waited for my reaction. And I guess I must have looked okay with this, because she was. We opened the door and we walked in. And we bought bugs for the lizards and one live mouse for the snake. Which the man put all by itself in a little paper bag. On the drive back to Mill Valley, I sat in the front seat holding the bag on my lap. And I could feel the mouse running around in the bag. And I knew that we were driving it to its death. And I had complex feelings about this. Jackie gave me a gift that day In a way, it was like she was saying to me, look, life is full of hard truths. Love is complicated. And sometimes it hurts. If you want to love a snake, you've got to love a mouse a little bit less. A few days later, my dad went back to Vietnam. He couldn't stop himself. And he was only gone for two months. But he was gone for the wrong two months, the wrong missed birthday, the wrong missed anniversary, and he came home that same summer. But the damage was done. And a year and a half later, my parents separated. My father moved out of the house over the bridge into a little apartment in San Francisco, and my mother and my sister and I moved down off the mountain. And I didn't see Jackie again after that.

Musical Interlude Singer (58:30)

No one can dispute the fact that things haven't turned out like a lamp. No, you're not first in. There's a way, there's a way your future is at hand? You put all your eggs in one basket? You didn't know the do's and don'ts they walk on eggshells in the once it calls you home in the company of strain My heavy men are on the last way they could not decide where are they now? What have they done?

Kevin Allison (59:41)

Well, my apologies to Risk fan Craig Borden, who tweeted that nothing makes him sadder than when I say, that's all for this week. But that's all for this week, folks. That leaves one thing left to say, folks. Today's the day. Take a risk.

Musical Interlude Singer (60:24)

Sam.