The Memory Palace

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Episode 54:
Origin Stories

Published
Jun 28,2013

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Music, Footnotes & Ephemera

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12 Comments on Origin Stories

  1. Bill Riski says:

    Great episode. Loved it!

  2. KJBlack says:

    Loved hearing Jesse and team performing your grandfathers schtick!

  3. Larry says:

    We need to find a way to have you do these more often :: thinks ::

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  5. Samanta says:

    I started listening tonight and just couldn’t stop. This episode was super moving for me. I LOVE the stories, and the family part the description of grandma in the house without her love… made me cry… but so beautiful. And me too, I live for those family histories. Thank you for sharing some from yours!

  6. Tawny says:

    Hi Nate,

    This was such a powerful story. Thank you for sharing. I have listened to it twice and I don’t expect to stop anytime soon.

  7. Mark Bernardo says:

    Nate, as a cousin (Marjori’s son) I LOVED this….brought tears to my eyes…I can’t thank you enough….
    Mark

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  9. Christine says:

    Binging on your podcast that I discovered not too long ago (through your interview with Stuff You Missed in History Class) and this was such a lovely, well written episode – brought tears to my eyes as you describe your grandparents. Such a lovely tribute to your family.

  10. Deary Darling says:

    Oh this is a masterpiece

  11. Tom H. says:

    Slowing working my way through the catalogue…another great episode, Nate! What’s the song starting @ the 7:00 minute mark called?

  12. anon says:

    I was driving and crying.

    I cleaned out my grandparents house – so much stuff. finding every driver’s license they’d ever had – every tax return they ever filed, a shoe box containing every single pair of glasses they ever owned – even the broken ones – my grandmothers favorite red velvet housecoat. The rusted bed springs that had hung on the cellar wall of the old house demolished for the freeway and then been moved to hang on the basement wall of the new house for another 40 years. My grandfathers moth eaten service coat from WWII, his WWII south pacific bronze stars that he never talked about. The console stereo and records of Dean Martin and Ed Ames that my grandmother loved.

    And the pictures. Pictures and pictures of people none of us could identify. Young people in a world before the war. Letters from the war, ration cards. Pictures and letters of the grandchildren, of myself, that I had never seen – sent by my mom from living abroad during my fathers military career. And a date book – my grandmothers – with her plans and appointments for a year that never happened because of a lethal New Years day heart attack.

    My grandfather lived in that house for another 25 years after my grandmother died before he could no longer live there. And he would not let us change anything – clean out anything – though I don’t think he ever opened any of these boxes, or spare closets, or photo albums during that quarter century. I have a mixture of fondness and regret for the house which has been sold and remodeled and made over beautifully for a new family. Not all family stories it contained were happy ones for my mother. But that story is not mine to tell.

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