The Big Trip Up Yonder - Kurt Vonnegut, Jr

Summary

Podcast Summary: “The Big Trip Up Yonder” by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

Podcast: Stories - Science Fiction
Host: Sol Good Network
Episode Date: May 19, 2026

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Overview

This episode of Stories - Science Fiction features a full audio performance of Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.’s satirical short story “The Big Trip Up Yonder.” Through vividly drawn characters and dark humor, Vonnegut explores the consequences of extreme longevity, family dynamics stretched across generations, and the societal chaos bred by immortality drugs. The story interrogates themes of overpopulation, generational tension, the illusion of inheritance, and the hollow pursuit of eternal youth.

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Key Discussion Points and Insights

1. Setting the Scene: Overcrowded Immortality

Timestamp: 01:45–04:00

• In 2185 AD, anti-gerasone (an anti-aging drug) has all but ended natural death due to old age.
• The Ford family, spanning four generations, lives crammed together in a small apartment, with every family member but the patriarch, “Gramps,” appearing physically under 35.
• Privacy is so rare it’s a luxury; the family hierarchy is strictly enforced by Gramps, who controls the only private bedroom—and the promises and threats of his ever-changing will.

2. The Tyranny of Gramps and the Will

Timestamp: 04:00–09:00

• Gramps wields control over his descendants by constantly revising his will, using it as both carrot and stick.
• A running joke is the dramatic performance of disinheriting another family member every time someone draws Gramps’ ire.
• “Silence! The next one who shoots off his big bazoo while the TV’s on is going to find hisself cut off without a dollar.” (Gramps, 03:25)

3. Clash over Anti-Gerasone: Sabotage and Suspicion

Timestamp: 09:00–13:30

• Out of desperation, various family members plot to weaken Gramps by diluting his anti-gerasone, hoping (without true murderous intent) to end his reign and claim the coveted bedroom and inheritance.
• Lou, the great-grandson, is caught attempting to pour away the precious drug, but Gramps responds with an unsettling calmness and retreats to his room.
• “It wouldn’t have been murder, hun. It wouldn’t have killed him. It just would have fixed him up so he’d be able to go anytime God decided he wanted him.” (Emerald to Lou, 13:10)

4. Gramps Disappears—The Family in Crisis

Timestamp: 15:45–17:55

• The next morning, Gramps is absent, leaving only a dramatically worded suicide note and a final will.
• The will stipulates: all property is to be shared equally by all descendants, regardless of generation.
• The family’s joy at potential private space quickly devolves into generational squabbles and physical fighting.

5. All-Out Family War and Society’s Absurdity

Timestamp: 17:55–22:15

• The struggle for space escalates into a brawl, requiring police intervention. The riot becomes a sensational televised spectacle.
• In jail, Lou and Em ironically discover that their tiny cells provide more comfort and solitude than their actual home.
• “For the first time in 40 years, hun, I haven’t got the Shakespeare. Look at me.” (Em to Lou, 23:00)
• “I wonder what kind of wires you’d have to pull to get put away in solitary.” (Em, 24:30)

6. Twist Ending: The Cycle Continues

Timestamp: 24:30–26:00

• Gramps, far from dead, is revealed to have orchestrated the chaos to get his family out of the apartment and secure comfort at last.
• He is seen relaxing alone, enjoying television, and listening to an advertisement for a newer, more effective anti-aging formula (“Super Anti Gerasone”).
• The gruff old patriarch is now content, gazing out over his domain and amused by the continuing farce of immortality and human nature.

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• Gramps’ control:
  “When they wave that checkered flag at the Indianapolis Speedway and old Gramps gets ready for the big trip up yonder...” (Gramps, 03:55)
• On the agony of cramped living:
  “Hell, you old people had plenty of privacy back when you were kids. I was born and raised in the middle of that goddamned barracks in the hall.” (Eddie, 18:45)
• The futility of escape:
  “The next person who opens his mouth spends the next six months by the bathroom.” (Willie, 19:45)
• On discovering privacy in jail:
  “You got a washbasin all your own too?” (Lou, 22:45)
  “Sure. Washbasin, bed light, the works. And we thought Gramps’ room was something.” (Em, 23:00)
• The closing gag:
  “And now, friends, I have a special message from the makers of Anti Gerasone… you can look, feel, and act as young as your great-great-grandchildren.” (TV Announcer, 25:00)
  Gramps, alone, content: “Schenectady…got it.” (Gramps, 25:30)

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Segment Timestamps

• [01:45] Start of story, setting, and introduction of Gramps
• [03:25] Gramps commands silence, exercises will power
• [09:00] Sabotage of anti-gerasone; discovery in bathroom
• [13:10] Emerald comforts Lou after failed sabotage
• [15:45] Discovery of Gramps’ suicide note, reading new will
• [17:55] The room riot and police arrest
• [22:45] Lou & Em discover comfort in jail
• [25:00] Anti-aging product ad, Gramps at peace
• [26:00] End of story

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Themes & Reflections

• Overcrowding as Satire: Vonnegut lampoons the logical consequences of technology that disrupts the natural cycle of life and death.
• The Absurdity of Inheritance: Family fights over tiny privileges become a generational bloodsport.
• The Futility of Escape: The pursuit of privacy and pleasure leads everyone in circles— even the notion of “the big trip up yonder” is reduced to a family jockeying for bed space, not metaphysical peace.
• Media Satire: TV serials and advertisements for anti-aging are ever-present, blending consumerism and immortality into a seamless experience of banality.

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Conclusion

“The Big Trip Up Yonder” delivers a sharp, darkly funny warning about human folly, the pitfalls of technological wish-fulfillment, and the eternal squabbles of family life. Vonnegut’s vision, ably performed in this episode, feels as relevant today as when first written—raising questions about what we wish for, and what we may lose should we attain it.

Transcript

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the Big Trip Up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. If it was good enough for your grandfather, forget it. It is much too good for anyone else. Gramps Ford, his chin resting on his hands, his hands on the crook of his cane, was staring irascibly at the five foot television screen that dominated the room. On the screen a news commentator was summarizing the day's happenings. Every 30 seconds or so, Gramps would jab the floor with his cane tip and shout, hell, we did that a hundred years ago. Emerald and Lou, coming in from the balcony where they had been seeking that 2185 A.D. rarity privacy, were obliged to take seats in the back row behind Lou's father and mother, brother and sister in law, son and daughter in law, grandson and wife, granddaughter and husband, great grandson and wife, nephew and wife, grand nephew and wife, great grandniece and husband, great grandnephew and wife. And of course Gramps, who was in front of everybody. All save Gramps, who was somewhat withered and bent, seemed by pre antigerisone standards to be about the same age. Somewhere in their late 20s or early 30s, Gramps looked older because he had already reached 70 when anti gerasone was invented. He had not aged in the 102 years since. Meanwhile, the commentator was saying, Council Bluffs, Iowa, was still threatened by Stark tragedy, but 200 weary rescue workers have refused to give up hope and continue to dig in an effort to save Elbert Hagedorn 183, who has been wedged for two days in a I wish he'd get something more cheerful, emerald whispered to Lou. Silence. Cried Gramps. Next one shoots off his big bazoo while the TV's on is going to find hisself cut off without a dollar. His voice suddenly softened and sweetened. When they wave that checkered flag at the Indianapolis Speedway and old Gramps gets ready for the big trip up yonder, he sniffed sentimentally while his airs concentrated desperately on not making the slightest sound for them. The poignancy of the prospective big trip had been dulled somewhat through having been mentioned by Gramps about once a day for 50 years. Dr. Brainard Keys Bullard continued. The commentator, president of Wyandotte College, said in an address tonight that most of the world's ills can be traced to the fact that man's knowled knowledge of himself has not kept pace with his knowledge of the physical world. Hell, Snorted Gramps. We said that a hundred years ago in Chicago. Tonight, the commentator went on, a special celebration is taking place in the Chicago lying in hospital. The guest of honor is Lowell w. Hitz, age 0. Hitz, born this morning, is the 25 millionth child to be born in the hospital. The commentator faded away and was replaced on the screen by young hits who squalled furiously. Hell. Whispered Lou to Emerald. We said that a hundred years ago. I heard that. Shouted Gramps. He snapped off the television set, and his petrified descendant stared silently at the screen. You there, boy. I didn't mean anything by it, sir, said Lou, aged 103. Get me my will. You know where it is. You kids all know where it is. Fetch, boy. Gramps snapped his gnarled fingers sharply. Lou nodded dully and found himself going down the hall, picking his way over bedding to Gramps Room, the only private room in the Ford apartment. The other rooms were the bathroom, the living room, and the wide windowless hallway, which was originally intended to serve as a dining area and which had a kitchenette in one end. Six mattresses and four sleeping bags were dispersed in the hallway and living room, and the daybed in the living room accommodated the 11th couple. The favorites of the moment on Gramps Bureau was his Will smeared, dog eared, perforated and blotched with hundreds of additions, deletions, accusations, conditions, warnings, advice, and homely philosophy. The document was, lou reflected, A 50 year diary, all jammed onto two sheets, a garbled, illegible log of day after day of strife. This day Lou would be diminished for the 11th time, and it would take him perhaps six months of impeccable behavior to regain the promise of a share in the estate, to say nothing of the daybed in the living room for em and himself. Boy, called Gramps. Coming, sir. Lou hurried back into the living room and handed Gramps the will. Pen, said Gramps. He was instantly offered 11 pens, one from each couple. Not that leaky thing, he said, brushing Lou's pen aside. Ah, there's a nice one. Good boy, Willie. He accepted Willie's pen. That was the tip they had all been waiting for. Willie then Lou's father was the new favorite. Willie, who looked almost as young as Lou, though he was 142, did a poor job of concealing his pleasure. He glanced shyly at the daybed, which would become his and from which Lou and Emerald would have to move back into the hall, back to the worst spot of all by the bathroom door. Gramps missed none of the high drama he had authored, and he gave his own familiar rle everything he had. Frowning and running his finger along each line as though he were seeing the will for the first time, he read aloud in a deep, portentous monotone, like a bass note on a cathedral organ. I, Harold D. Ford, residing in Building 257 of Alden Village, New York City, Connecticut, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be min last will and testament, revoking any and all former wills and codicils by me at any time heretofore made. He blew his nose importantly and went on, not missing a word and repeating many for emphasis, repeating in particular his ever more elaborate specifications for a funeral. At the end of these specifications, Gramps was so choked with emotion that Lou thought he might have forgotten why he'd brought out the will in the first place. But Gramps heroically brought his powerful emotions under control and after erasing for a full minute, began to write and speak at the same time. Lou could have spoken his lines for him, he had heard them so often. I have had many heartbreaks ere leaving this vale of tears for a better land, gramps said, and wrote, but the deepest hurt of all has been dealt me by. He looked around the group, trying to remember who the malefactor was. Everyone looked helpfully at Lou, who held up his hand resignedly. Gramps nodded, remembering, and completed the sentence. My great grandson, Lewis J. Ford. Grandson, sir, said Lou. Don't quibble. You're in deep enough now, young man, said Gramps. But he made the change, and from there he went without a misstep through the phrasing of the disinheritance causes for which were disrespectfulness and quibbling. In the paragraph following the paragraph that had belonged to everyone in the room at one time or another, Lou's name was scratched out and Willie substituted as heir to the apartment and the biggest plum of all, the double bed in the private bedroom. So, said Gramps, beaming. He erased the date at the foot of the will and substituted a new one, including the time of day. Well, time to watch the McGarvey family. The McGarvey family was a television serial that Gramps had been following since he was 60, or for a total of 112 years. I can't wait to see what's going to happen next, he said. Lou detached himself from the group and lay down on his bed of pain by the bathroom door, wishing Em would join him. He wondered where she was. He dozed for a few moments until he was disturbed by something stepping over him to get into the bathroom. A moment later he heard a faint gurgling sound as though something were being poured down the wash basin drain. Suddenly it entered his mind that Em had cracked up, that she was in there doing something drastic about Gramps. Em, he whispered through the panel. There was no reply, and Lou pressed against the door. The worn lock, whose bolt barely engaged its socket, held for a second, then let the door swing inward. Morty. Gasped. Lou. Lou's great grand nephew, Mortimer, who had just married and brought his wife home to the Ford menage, looked at Lou with consternation and surprise. Morty kicked the door shut, but not before Lou had glimpsed what was in his hand. Gramps enormous economy sized bottle of anti gerasone, which had apparently been half emptied and which Morty was refilling with tap water. A moment later, Morty came out. Gramps glared defiantly at Lou and brushed past him wordlessly to rejoin his pretty bride. Shocked, Lou didn't know what to do. He couldn't let Gramps take the mousetrap to antigerisone, but if he warned Gramps about it, Gramps would certainly make life in the apartment, which was merely insufferable now harrowing. Lou glanced into the living room and saw that the Fords Emerald among them, were momentarily at rest, relishing the botches that the McGarvys had made of their lives. Stealthily he went into the bathroom, locked the door as well as he could, and began to pour the contents of Gramps bottle down the drain. He was going to refill it with full strength anti gerasone from the 22 smaller bottles on the shelf. The bottle contained a half gallon and its neck was small, so it seemed to Lou that the emptying would take forever, and the almost imperceptible smell of anti Gerasone, like Worcestershire sauce, now seemed to Lou, in his nervousness, to be pouring out into the rest of the apartment. Through the keyhole and under the door. The bottle gurgled monotonously. Suddenly up came the sound of music from the living room, and there were murmurs and the scraping of chair legs on the floor. Thus ends, said the television announcer. The 29,121st chapter in the life of your neighbors and mine. The McGarveys footsteps were coming down the hall. There was a knock on the bathroom door. Just a sec, lou cheerily called out. Desperately. He shook the big bottle, trying to speed up the flow. His palm slipped on the wet glass and the heavy bottle smashed on the tile floor. The door was pushed open and Gramps, dumbfounded, stared at the incriminating mess. Lou felt a hideous prickling sensation on his scalp and the back of his neck. He grinned engagingly through the nausea and, for want of anything remotely resembling a thought, waited for Gramps to speak. Well, boy, said Gramps at last, looks like you've got a little tidying up to do. And that was all, he said. He turned around, elbowed his way through the crowd, and locked himself in his bedroom. The Fords contemplated Lou in incredulous silence a moment longer and then hurried back to the living room, as though some of his horrible guilt would taint them too, if they looked too long. Morty stayed behind long enough to give Lou a quizzical, annoyed glance. Then he also went into the living room, leaving only Emerald standing in the doorway. Tears streamed over her cheeks. Oh, you poor lamb. Please don't look so awful. It was my fault. I put you up to this with my nagging about Grams. Naw, said Lou, finding his voice. Really, you didn't. Honest, Em, I was just. You don't have to explain anything to me, hun. I'm on your side no matter what. She kissed him on one cheek and whispered in his ear. It wouldn't have been murder, hun. It wouldn't have killed him. It wasn't such a terrible thing to do. It just would have fixed him up so he'd be able to go anytime God decided he wanted him.

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r g what's going to happen next? Em? Said Lou hollowly. What's he going to do? Lou and Emerald stayed fearfully awake almost all night, waiting to see what Gramps was going to do. But not a sound came from the sacred bedroom. Two hours before dawn, they finally dropped off to sleep. At six o' clock they arose again, for it was time for their generation to eat breakfast in the kitchenette. No one spoke to them. They had 20 minutes in which to eat, but their reflexes were so dulled by the bad night that they had hardly swallowed two mouthfuls of egg type processed seaweed before it was time to surrender their places to their son's generation. Then, as was the custom for whoever had been most recently disinherited, they began preparing Gramps breakfast, which would presently be served him in bed on a tray. They tried to be cheerful about it. The toughest part of the job was having to handle the honest to God eggs and bacon and Oleomargarian, on which Gramps spent so much of the income from his fortune. Well, said Emerald, I'm not going to get all panicky until I'm sure there's something to be panicky about. Maybe he doesn't know what it was I busted, lou said hopefully. Probably thinks it was your watch crystal, offered Eddie, their son, who was toying apathetically with his buckwheat type processed sawdust cakes. Don't get sarcastic with your father, said Em. And don't talk with your mouth full, either. I'd like to see anybody take a mouthful of this stuff and not say something, complained eddie, who was 73. He glanced at the clock. It's time to take Gramps breakfast, you know. Yeah, it is, isn't it? Said Lou weakly. He shrugged. Let's have the tray, Em. We'll both go. Walking slowly, smiling bravely, they found a large semicircle of long faced Fords standing around the bedroom door. Em knocked. Gramps. She called brightly. Breakfast is ready. There was no reply, and she knocked again, harder. The door swung open before her fist. In the middle of the room, the soft, deep, wide canopied bed, the symbol of the sweet by and by to every Ford was empty. A sense of death as unfamiliar to the Fords as Zoroastrianism or the causes of the Sepoy Mutiny, stilled every voice slowed, every heart awed. The heirs began to search gingerly under the furniture and behind the drapes for all that was mortal of Gramps, father of the clan. But Gramps had left not his earthly husk but a note, which Lou finally found on the dresser under a paperweight, which was a treasured souvenir from the World's Fair of 2000. Unsteadily, Lou read it. Somebody who I have sheltered and protected and taught the best I know how all these years. Last night turned on me like a mad dog and diluted my anti gerasone, or tried to I am no longer a young man. I can no longer bear the crushing burden of life as I once could. So after last night's bitter experience, I say good bye. The cares of this world will soon drop away like a cloak of thorns, and I shall know peace. By the time you find this, I will be gone. Gosh, said Willie brokenly. He didn't even get to see how the 5000 mile speedway race was going to come out. Or the Solar ceres, eddie said with large, mournful eyes. Or whether Mrs. McGarvey got her eyesight back, added Morty. There's more said Lou, and he began reading aloud again. I, Harold D. Ford etc. Do hereby make, publish, and declare this to be my last will and testament, revoking any and all former wills and codicils by me at any time heretofore made. No. Cried Willie, not another one. I do stipulate, Red Lou, that all of my property of whatsoever kind and nature not be divided, but do devise and bequeath it to be held in common by my issue, without regard for generation, equally share and share alike. Issue, said Emerald. Lou included the multitude in a sweep of his hand. It means we all own the whole damn shootin match. Each eye turned instantly to the bed. Share and share alike? Asked Morty. Actually, said Willie, who was the oldest one present, it's just like the old system where the oldest people head up things with their headquarters in here. And I like that. Exclaimed Em. Lou owns as much of it as you do, and I say it ought to be for the oldest one who's still working. You can snooze around here all day waiting for your pension check while poor Lou stumbles in here after work all tuckered out. And how about letting somebody who's never had any privacy get a little crack at it? Eddie demanded hotly. Hell, you old people had plenty of privacy back when you were kids. I was born and raised in the middle of that goddamned barracks in the hall. How about yeah. Challenged Morty. Sure, you've all had it pretty tough, and my heart bleeds for you, but try honeymooning in the hall for a real kick. Silence. Shouted Willie imperiously. The next person who opens his mouth spends the next six months by the bathroom. Now clear out of my room. I want to think. A vase shattered against the wall inches above his head. In the next moment a free for all was under way, with each couple battling to eject every other couple from the room. Fighting coalitions formed and dissolved with the lightning changes of the tactical situation. M. And Lou were thrown into the hall, where they organized others in the same situation and stormed back into the room. After two hours of struggle, with nothing like a decision in sight, the cops broke in, followed by television cameramen from mobile units. For the next half hour patrol wagons and ambulances hauled away Fords, and then the apartment was still and spacious. An hour later, films of the last stages of the riot were being televised to 500 million delighted viewers on the Eastern seaboard. In the stillness of the three room Ford apartment on the 76th floor of Building 257, the television set had been left on once more the air was filled with the cries and grunts and crashes of the fray, coming harmlessly now from the loudspeaker. The battle also appeared on the screen of the television set in the police station, where the Fords and their captors watched with professional interest. Em and lou, in adjacent 4 by 8 cells, were stretched out peacefully on their cots. Em, called Lou through the partition. You got a washbasin all your own too? Sure. Washbasin, bed light, the works. And we thought Gramps room was something. How long has this been going on? She held out her hand. For the first time in 40 years. Hun, I haven't got the Shakespeare. Look at me. Cross your fingers, said Lou. The lawyer's going to try to get us a year. Gee, em said dreamily, I wonder what kind of wires you'd have to pull to get put away in solitary. All right, pipe down, said the turnkey, or I'll toss the whole kit and caboodle of you right out. And first one who lets on to anybody outside how good jail is ain't never gettin back in. The prisoners instantly fell silent. The living room of the apartment darkened for a moment as the riot scenes faded on the television screen, and then the face of the announcer appeared like the sun coming from behind a cloud. And now, friends, he said, I have a special message from the makers of Anti Gerasone. A message for all you folks over 150. Are you hampered socially by wrinkles, by stiffness of the joints and discoloration or loss of hair, all because these things came upon you before antigerisone was developed? Well, if you are, you need no longer suffer, need no longer feel different and out of things. After years of research, medical science has now developed Super Anti Geraso in weeks. Yes, weeks. You can look, feel, and act as young as your great great grandchildren. Wouldn't you pay $5,000 to be indistinguishable from everybody else? Well, you don't have to. Safe tested Super Anti Gerasone costs you only a few dollars a day right now for your free trial carton, just put your name and address on a dollar postcard and mail it to Super Box 500,000, Schenectady, New York. Have you got that? I'll repeat it. Super Box 500,000. Underlining the announcer's words was the scratching of Gramps Pen, the one Willie had given him the night before. He had come in a few minutes earlier from the Idle Hour Tavern, which commanded a view of Building 257 from across the square of asphalt known as the Alden Village green. He had called a cleaning woman to come straighten the place up, then had hired the best lawyer in town to get his descendants a conviction. A genius who had never gotten a client less than a year and a day, Gramps had then moved the daybed before the television screen so that he could watch from a reclining position. It was something he'd dreamed of doing for years. Skenecta Dee murmured. Gramps got it. His face had changed remarkably. His facial muscles seemed to have relaxed, revealing kindness and equanimity under what had been taught lines of bad temper. It was almost as though his trial package of super antigerisone had already arrived. When something amused him on television, he smiled easily rather than barely, managing to lengthen the thin line of his mouth a millimeter. Life was good. He could hardly wait to see what was going to happen next. The Big Trip up Yonder by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

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to play social casino void where prohibited.

[Liberty Mutual Advertiser]

Visit spinquest.com for more details. Liberty Mutual customizes your car and home insurance. And now we're customizing this ad for your morning commute to wake you up, which could help your driving. Science says that stimulating the brain increases alertness. So here's a pop quiz. How many months have 28 days? What gets wetter as it dries? What has keys but can't open? Locks? If you don't want to hear the answers, turn off this Liberty mutual ad now. 12 months. A towel Piano. Enjoy being fully alert.

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