Nothing is Permanent | Everyday is a Story - Shannon Cason's Homemade

Summary5 min read

Podcast Summary: "Nothing is Permanent | Everyday is a Story"

Podcast: Shannon Cason's Homemade
Host: Shannon Cason
Episode Date: June 30, 2026

Overview

In this reflective solo episode, Shannon Cason recounts a childhood memory centered around a massive tree in his Detroit backyard and the realization that nothing—no matter how enduring it seems—is truly permanent. Through vivid storytelling, he explores the connections between places, memories, and the passage of time, inviting listeners to consider their own stories of change and loss.

Key Discussion Points & Insights

Memories of the Backyard Tree

Childhood Adventures:
- Shannon introduces listeners to the enormous tree that dominated his Detroit backyard—so large its branches stretched into several neighbors’ lots.
- As a child, he and his best friend climbed its limbs, pushing their bravery (and parental patience) by reaching ever higher.
- "If you got to the fourth limb, you was crazy. It was very dangerous. But of course we would do it." (01:15)
Risky Play & Parental Discipline:
- Shannon recalls a mischievous episode where he and his friend used trash bags as imaginary parachutes, jumping from branches and breaking lawn furniture.
- His father, shocked by their recklessness, scolded and for the first and only time, struck him in the chest:
  - "First and only time I remember my dad hitting me. He like punched me in my chest. And I was just like stunned, you know." (02:03)
First Kiss & Secret Soap Operas:
- The tree also served as a backdrop for his first kiss with Tara, his best friend’s younger sister, as they reenacted their mothers’ soap operas:
  - "We hugged and we touched lips and we just moved our heads back and forth like on the soap operas, like on the TV shows." (03:01)
  - Reflects on the “code” of not getting involved with a friend’s sister, referencing Scarface humorously.
Learning About Guns:
- The tree was a target for his first experience firing a gun, guided by his father—another formative rite of passage:
  - "He told me not to put my finger on the trigger just yet. And he said, pointed at the tree... the gun pushed my arm back." (03:30)
  - Remembers his father also firing a "bigger gun" at the tree.

Growing Up & Changing Landscapes

Life Transitions:
- After his parents’ breakup, Shannon's perspective on the tree shifted. Visiting his father meant shooting hoops in the backyard, with the looming presence of the tree always providing shade.
  - "Their whole backyards was full of shade from that tree." (04:30)
Returning Home & The Tree’s Absence:
- On a recent visit, after the usual breakfast ritual at Coolidge Cafe (a local Detroit spot), Shannon discovered that the massive tree was gone—leaving only flat ground:
  - "And the huge tree, enormous tree was gone. And it was just flat ground. And I'm like wow. I mean like, you know that emoji with the blown up head." (05:08)
His Father's Perspective:
- When he asked, his father explained the tree was cut down by the city about a month prior, being over 500 years old:
  - "The city came with the cranes and machinery and they cut the tree down. It was gone in about two days. They told him that the tree was over 500 years old. 500 years old, that's older than the United States of America. Double the age." (05:45)
- His father admitted the tree had always worried him:
  - "My dad said whenever he was sleep he was worried about that tree... he could imagine a huge branch crashing through the house and he was happy to see it was gone." (06:22)

Reflections on Impermanence

Personal Meaning & Sentimentality:
- Shannon muses on how, in his mind, the tree was “permanent”—part of the background of life—only for it to disappear overnight.
  - "In my generation I'm kind of sentimental like that I suppose. Moment of meaning in my mind that tree was permanent. It was too big." (06:40)
Universal Relatability:
- He concludes by widening the lens, inviting listeners to recall places or things from their own past they believed would always be there—until, suddenly, they weren’t.
  - "Few things are permanent. Nothing that a few cranes and machinery can't handle. But what about you? Have you ever thought something was permanent like a tree or a place from your childhood and now it's gone. What's your story?" (07:01)

Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

On Daring Childhood Deeds:
"If you got to the fourth limb, you was crazy. It was very dangerous. But of course we would do it." (01:15)
On the Only Time His Dad Disciplined Him:
"First and only time I remember my dad hitting me. He like punched me in my chest. And I was just like stunned, you know." (02:03)
On Childhood Firsts:
"We hugged and we touched lips and we just moved our heads back and forth like on the soap operas, like on the TV shows." (03:01)
Perspective-Shifting Realization:
"The tree was over 500 years old, that's older than the United States of America. Double the age." (05:53)
On His Father's Relief:
"My dad said whenever he was sleep he was worried about that tree. He could never really get a good sleep in a storm because... he could imagine a huge branch crashing through the house and he was happy to see it was gone." (06:22)
On Loss & Impermanence:
"Few things are permanent. Nothing that a few cranes and machinery can't handle. But what about you? Have you ever thought something was permanent like a tree or a place from your childhood and now it's gone. What's your story?" (07:01)

Timestamps for Important Segments

Childhood Tree and Adventure Stories: 00:15 – 03:40
Leaving Home and Dad’s Backyard: 04:00 – 05:00
Discovery of the Missing Tree: 05:08 – 05:45
Dad Explains Tree’s Removal: 05:45 – 06:22
Reflections on Impermanence: 06:40 – 07:18

Tone & Style

Shannon Cason's narration is conversational, warm, and reflective, with a touch of humor and humility. His storytelling style is vivid and intimate, making personal memories feel universal and inviting the listener to reflect on their own nostalgic attachments.

Conclusion

"Nothing is Permanent | Everyday is a Story" is a poignant episode inviting listeners to contemplate impermanence through the lens of Shannon’s childhood and a single, monumental tree. By blending nostalgia, family dynamics, and thoughtful introspection, Shannon encourages us all to appreciate our own everyday stories—and to recognize that even what feels most permanent may, one day, be suddenly gone.

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[00:00]
A
Yesterday, something from my childhood just disappeared. Poof. Gone. Every day is a story. I'm Shannon Cason. Make sure you like comment and subscribe. The tree in my backyard in Detroit was huge. Huge isn't even the right word. Enormous. It stood high above the house with thick branches winding in every direction. The low hanging branches would span into three or four neighbors backyards. Obviously the tree had been there long before the houses, so who could complain? No one to complain too. The trunk of the tree was in our backyard, but we didn't plant was a tree. I climbed with my best friend down the street and. And we would make it to the first limb easily. And then it was harder to get to like the third or the fourth. If you got to the fourth limb, you was crazy. It was very dangerous. But of course we would do it. My dad caught us once we was on the first limb and we were jumping from it with trash bags. Like we had trash bags. And we think those were going to be like parachutes. And we were jumping on the lawn furniture and just breaking up everything. And my dad yelled. And this was the first and the only time that I remember my dad hitting me. He like punched me in my chest. And I was just like stunned, you know. So I do remember that it was the tree where I kissed my first girl, Tara, who was actually my best friend's sister. Younger sister, which I know is totally wrong. This is. You're not supposed to mess with your best friend's girl, you know, That's. That's in Scarface. We know that from Scarface. So. But my best friend didn't shoot me at the door. But we, me and Tara, we went behind the tree and we were acting out our mother's soap operas. And we hugged and we touched lips and we just moved our heads back and forth like on the soap operas, like on the TV shows. I shot the tree. My dad let me shoot one of his guns at the tree. I held a heavy gun in my little hands. And he told me not to put my finger on the trigger just yet. And he said, pointed at the tree. Then I put. And then he told me put my finger on the trigger. And he said, squeeze. And I suppose. And the gun pushed my arm back. Then he shot the tree with a bigger gun. He had a bigger gun. Shoot to shoot the tree. When my mom and dad broke up, we left that house. But whenever I visited my dad, I was in the backyard shooting basketball on the garage rim on the garage. And the tree was in the background. And I look at that tree sometimes and how it took over the neighbors backyards. They had to even trim part of the tree and it was almost like an umbrella in their backyards. Their whole backyards was full of shade from that tree. Then yesterday I had to visit my dad, help him take care of some business related stuff. And we went to breakfast at Coney island, which we always do the same Coney Island, Coolidge Cafe on Shaffer and Coolidge in Nine Mile I think it is and got home. We got to his house and dropped them off at his house. I went in the backyard to do some reminiscing like I usually do. And the huge tree, enormous tree was gone. And it was just flat ground. And I'm like wow. I mean like I'm. I'm kind of like, you know that emoji with the blown up head. So I go in the house, I'm gonna ask, I'm gonna ask my dad, you know my dad, coolest guy in the world, regular cool guy, nonchalant fashion. He told me it happened about a month ago, man. You know, the city came with the cranes and machinery and they cut the tree down. It was gone in about two days. He told me that they told him that the tree was over 500 years old. 500 years old, that's older than the United States of America. Double the age. We about to do the, the 250 thing. 500 years is a long ass time. My dad said whenever he was sleep he was worried about that tree. He could never really get a good sleep in a storm because he was always. It was hard to rest because he could imagine a huge branch crashing through the house and he was happy to see it was gone. So I went back outside just to kind of just wow, you know, looked at the flat ground. It made it 500 years and it was gone. In my generation I'm kind of sentimental like that I suppose. Moment of meaning in my mind that tree was permanent. It was too big. Intertwined through, in between all the houses. But now it's gone. Few things are permanent. Nothing that a few cranes and machinery can't handle. But what about you? Have you ever thought something was permanent like a tree or a place from your childhood and now it's gone. What's your story?