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I remember that Roberta really wanted a child. I remember that very much. She was gonna have a baby. I was gonna give up until, right? She was gonna find a way. And if it had to be the way she did, then that's what she had to do.


I'm now decades removed from that little boy who was hung up on by his father. But even all grown up, I'd ruminate about who he was, about what was really going on.


I tried to confront him several times, and it was just one lie after another. And then I just had too many lies.


When I was 38, already married, with kids of my own, something happened that would set me down a new path. I found out this story was actually way bigger than just me. And more people than I could ever imagine were wrapped up in this.


I actually even, like, had a dream. I was with my mom, sitting with her in a car at a grocery store. And she said to me, you know, I have something to tell you. There's a secret. And I said, what is it? I knew there was something that someone wasn't telling me.


We struggle because on the one hand.


It'S like, do you tell somebody, or do you let them continue with the life that they have?


It's kind of like, I feel taken. Taken is the wrong word. I feel, you know, played. I wasn't being honest. This is my other question, because it's like, where did the lie begin? Where did the lie begin?


From Waveland and Rococo punch. This is inconceivable truth. I'm mad cats, episode two sisters. All right, now we're on the record.




How do you feel about that?


I feel good. We're outside in our lovely garden, pretty much just hiding from our children so we can talk honestly.


One of them is staring at us.


Right now through the window.


Okay, please introduce yourself.


Hi, I'm Deborah Katz, married to Matthew Katz, aka Matt Katz. I'm his wife of 15 years. And we've been together how many years before that? I'm really bad with dates and babe and remembering how long we've been together.


You know what? It's gonna be 19 years in January.


Wow. Okay. That's amazing. So I've seen a lot of your daddy issues through the years, and hopefully you find what you're looking for.


When Debra and I started dating, I actually wasn't looking for anything when it came to my father. This is one of the few stretches of my life where I didn't really have existential questions about him. After I found my birth father, Warren, when I was 16, we had a sporadic relationship. We hung out every few months, talked on the phone here and there. But sometimes on those phone calls, hed say outrageous things to me, talking shit on my mom, whom he had stolen money from. Richard, the man who adopted me, who raised me, who I now call dad, and even my grandmother, my moms mom, who had helped him out so many times. So I knew who my father was. It wasn't all great, but it was knowing.


What do you remember about my relationship with him?


When you and I met, I knew what he had done to you as kind of a child with just being absentee, obviously. And I knew what he had done to your mother, bankrupting her. I had no reason to like him. Yeah, you would have, like, phone calls every, like, I would say maybe like once a month the most.




Sometimes I kind of witness it. Or sometimes you would be coming off the phone call after a drive home where you were talking to him.


Like, what would I say about them afterwards?


Let's just say I never liked him because he didn't bring anything to your life. I remember you kind of coming off the phone calls frustrated, you know, he had no interest in what you were doing. You would try to tell him about your life. He would kind of cut you off. Or he'd just talk about random stuff or, you know, your cousins at the time, his nephews.


If I was, like, talking about, I was, you know, relatively early on in my career.


Yeah. Like, if you got an award, I remember you try. You'd be kind of be proud and want to tell them about a journalism award or, like, something that you're covering.


Yeah. And he would, like, change the subject and start talking about how his nephews were doing well and making a lot of money or something.


Yeah. I think you just would come away from those conversations, like, unsatisfied. But it wasn't just you calling him. He'd reach out at times, and he would call or leave a message.


I feel like he actually mostly. He was the one who mostly called.


Yeah, like him.




And I remember sometimes just, like, listening to a voicemail just kind of. He was always a character, you know? So we'd have, like, we'd listen and we'd giggle a little bit, but honestly, like, you would leave those conversations kind of sad. And so being, like, your partner, I was protective of you, and I, like, didn't like him because he, you know, a simple conversation would hurt you. I did get to meet him once, which was interesting. He was in town with a girlfriend at the time, and we went to dinner in the neighborhood.


He had a girlfriend?


Yeah. You remember that?


Oh, my God.


He had, like, some girlfriend that I think was, like, divorced or widowed, and she had her own money. And I think he kind of, like, insinuated that he always finds someone.


He always found somebody who seemed to be wealthier, a woman to, like.


Yeah. Like, kind of help take care of him in a way.


Yeah. So what was your impression of him?


Well, first thing was he was taller than you. And he had dark features. You know, he had dark hair, dark eyes. He had bushy hair, eyebrows. And I remember him having, like, kind of a bigger bulbous type nose. And feature wise, didn't look anything like you.




And so that was strange to me.


Do you remember what we, like, talked about at that dinner? Do you remember? Cause I. I found him, like, could be, you know, easygoing in terms of talking. I don't remember being awkward or difficult to get word through.


That's fair. He had a little humor to him, which I think you appreciated.


Right? He talks shit, which I appreciate.


No, I mean, that's the thing is, I mean, obviously, I'm married to you, so I love you very much.


That's so sweet.


And you're a very dynamic, interesting person. You know, like, if anything, the only thing he should have been the most proud of is you, and he showed zero aspect of that. Yeah, but I could tell you really wanted to have a relationship with him. You wanted to bond with him. You wanted him in your life. And so that was tough. I tried to respect that, but I didn't see in any way how it was benefiting you. If anything, it was like hurting you to have him in your life.


Yeah, I remember. Dinner ended, and he gave me a hug. Sort of. Maybe.


Probably. I think, you know, he was.


I think he was.


He was clearly said, like, it was nice to meet you.


I love. He said he would tell me he loved me. I wouldn't say it back. And then that was the last time I ever saw him.


Not long after she met Warren, Debra and I got engaged, and I started obsessing over whether I should invite him to our wedding. I knew not inviting him and not inviting anyone on that side of the family could just totally end our relationship. Could sever the relationship forever.


He wasn't worth an invite. He didn't deserve an invite.


That's not why he wasn't invited.


You remember the punch in the face, right?


Cause he told me on the phone one day after we were engaged before invitations had been sent out. He was pissed about something from the past. And he said, if I ever saw Richard on the street, I would punch him in the face.


This was something I couldn't stand for. I was four when Richard married my mom, and he had raised me. He adopted me. I took his last name, and so that clinched it. No way would I invite a guy to my wedding who had threatened to punch my dad, even if that guy was technically my father.


At some point, he realized that he wasn't invited, which he was annoyed about.


Yeah, he was pissed.


Pissed enough to stop talking to me again. Just like when I was a little kid. He stopped calling, stopped returning my calls. A couple of years went by like this. Total silence. Total separation. But then in 2011, I dialed him up. Cause I had some news.


You got up the courage. When I got pregnant, yeah.


I figured somebody, just, like, somebody, would want to know if they had a child out there. They'd want to know that they have.


A grandchild out there.


So I thought it was the right thing to do, even if he didn't want to talk to me. But I thought it was the right thing to do to call him up and tell him that he was going to be a grandfather for what I thought was the first time.


Yeah. Yeah. And he said, I don't care. That was literally his reaction was, I don't care.


He said, I don't care. And then he said, just for good measure, just to fucking twist the knife, he said, no one in the family likes you. Meaning nobody in his family. I remember I was really upset after this call. This was no.


Like, it was over the top.


I was real.


I was pretty upset.


Yeah. Just mean and just so selfish. Every time he acts like a shit at you, like, I can't believe another situation is happening.


That was the last time I spoke to him, ever. Ever.






And then years go by. We have one daughter, Sadie. A couple years later, we have one son, Reuben. And then we decide to take DNA tests.


Deborah and I bought and took the DNA tests as joint wedding anniversary presents for our very jewish wedding, by the way, with the rabbi and the broken glass and everything. So we spit in the little vial, sealed it up, sent it to, and waited. So what'd you get, babe?


What'd you get?


I mean, I am full 101% Ashkenazi Jewish from Eastern Europe. I mean, I have, like, dark features a little bit. So I was, like, really hoping for a little bit of, like, Portugal or Spain, because, you know, they were like, offering those portuguese citizenships. Citizenships.


I thought my results would be the same as debras, but thats not what happened at all. According to the test, I was just half Ashkenazi Jewish, which means just about half of my DNA came from eastern european Jews. Not all of it, as I had thought for the first 38 years of my life. And had never any reason to believe otherwise. No, this test said, actually, I had half non jewish roots in Ireland, Scotland, or England. And this. This was totally out of left field.


Yeah, we started, like, trying to make sense of this. It didn't make sense. So that was one. One thought we had. Was that my mother?


Meaning was she adopted? Like, remember, we were going down that path.


At one point, we thought, you know, there was talk that Roberta's mother or grandmother come through England on the way from Poland, which was something that happened. The boat would take you to England. You'd be there for, like, six months. Maybe shenanigans ensue, and somehow something happened there. That was one of our theories. So then my mom decides to do it.




Did I buy it for her for her birthday?




I don't remember. But she did it. Cause she's a good mom. Whatever you need. So she did, and she came back 100%.


Not only did she come back 100%.


Obviously, but she also came back. Your mother.


She came back, which she should know.


Because she gave birth to you.


Right. But you know, these ancestry tests, they show you your relatives. And she literally came back as my mother.




So then it became, okay, it's Warren.


Is Warren Irish?


So then do you remember the theories we had about Warren?


Well, yeah, because you had. You knew Warren's parents. You knew their history. Because the journalist. And you actually, when you. The few times you spend with them, you got their history.


You interviewed them.


Interviewed them. So you knew exactly where your family had come from.


Ten years earlier, 15 years earlier.




Warren's parents had escaped Russia, they told me. And they started a jewish butcher and a synagogue with some other families from the old country. So I knew they were definitely jewish. So then it's like, okay, was Warren adopted somehow? I was thinking Warren was born in 1941, and he lived in Queens. You know, you'd have jewish families maybe on one block and irish families on the next block. So maybe there was an irish family with six kids on the next block over. And the old man went to war, dies, you know, fighting the Nazis. So maybe the mother's got this new kid comes along. She can't take care of him. There's a nice jewish family down the block. She quietly adopts him out.


That was what we decided.


We had all these ideas, right?


Tell me what your grandmother Elsie said to me, may she rest in peace. When we first met. While we were dating.


Yes. So this would be 2005.


2005, okay.


In 2005, I would visit my grandma regularly. She lived in central New Jersey, so I would drive up from Philly and take her out to lunch. So I was excited for her to meet my new, you know, new boyfriend. And we're sitting across from her. She was a charming, funny, unique lady. So she's looking him, like, all around in the face, just staring straight.


She's really looking at me, really looking.


At you as you're talking.


She's got the blondish hair and the reddish tinted skin and, you know, hairless on my, you know, not like a hairy.


Yeah, she's like, you're jewish. And you're like, yeah, I'm jewish. She's like, you're not jewish. You're irish. So this is, like, way before, I mean, over ten years from when you get the result. And then she said that she was gonna call you, and you're gonna have to bleep this.


She used a slur for irish people and said that that was gonna be.


Her nickname for you.


Her nickname for me was gonna be Mick.


She was like, grandma. Oh, my God, I'm so embarrassed.


Gremma Elsie had come up in the Bronx, where the Jews hung out with the Jews, the Irish hung out with the Irish, and you got by by figuring out quickly who was who, and apparently I looked like the irish guy down the block. It wasn't the only time Deborah and I had heard that. Our irish friend Nancy, before we became friends, she said she'd see us in our neighborhood and refer to us as the jewish girl married to the irish guy. And now when I look in the mirror, I'm starting to physically make more sense to myself. So, yeah, there is something to this.


You and your $600 off collection.


I'm Matt Katz.


I'm speaking with Mother Jones senior editor Wesley about his most recent story on White Supremacy 2018. My stress dream, my nightmare about a stressful work situation, unfolded in real time, in real life, in front of a real audience. I'm in the studios of WNYC Public Radio in New York, and I'm in front of the microphone, live on the air. Usually I'm a reporter, but today I'm hosting the noon radio show. I'm filling in for only, like, the third time ever. I'm excited. I'm scared, and I don't entirely know what I'm doing. So have the number of people trying to leave this movement. Why is that, do you think? I'm halfway through the live show when we get to a break and a producer comes into the studio. Matt, the next guest isn't here. After we air the headlines at the top of the hour, you have to fill 30 minutes with callers, find something to talk about. Oh, shit.


Live from NPR News in Washington, I'm Lakshmi Singh.


And I'm scrambling. Like, okay, I've already been promoting this upcoming segment on immigration, so I guess I better vamp on that. What if I just get people's immigration stories? Like, how did they get here? Okay. Shit. We're back in 54321 with immigration at the top of the national conversation these days. We thought we'd take a few minutes to hear your immigration story specifically, is there something that you're now learning about your background that you weren't aware of before? Are you on and finding long lost relatives? Are there surprises in your family history? Anything crazy going on in your family history? Disappointments, unanswered questions? We want to hear from you now. You can call us at 212. But then I was like, if I'm asking them to tell their stories, then I should also tell my story. And of course, at the top of my mind was this family mystery we still hadn't figured out. Like, how in the world was I Irish? So far, it was kind of a secret. Just my family knew. I told some friends over drinks. But now, without really any time at all to think it through, I was going to reveal it live on the radio.


I've had some surprises of late. I guess I'll get us started here. I grew up thinking I was 100% Ashkenazi Jewish from eastern Europe, but I spit in a cup and sent it to last year and found that, at least according to their DNA analysis, I'm just 43% Ashkenazi Jewish. Another 43% of my DNA indicates I'm from England, Scotland, Ireland. Now, listening back on this, I was clearly trying to sound kind of matter of fact about this whole thing, but these DNA results I got were not something I could reconcile with my lived experience. And then the call started coming. Let's talk to Mitchell over in Brooklyn. Hi, Mitchell. Hi, Deborah over in Newark.


Oh, hello.


To see if April and Somerville's there. April.




Hi there. April, tell me your story. The phone lines filled up. It was a pretty beautiful experience for me, convening of all of these people who, like me, were longing to connect with ancestors. And some had already found success doing so. Ellen in Westchester. Hi, Ellen.


Hi, Matt. Thank you very much for taking my call. And I was fascinated to hear your story just now because it mirrors mine very closely, including almost to the exact percentage the results from the DNA test.


Are we cousins, Ellen? Are we related?


We probably are. I hope we are.


Let's go to Michael in Jersey city. Hi, Michael.


Hey, man. How you doing today, buddy?


Doing great, doing good, doing great. What's your story?


Through some of the census records, I found out that my father had a brother that died as an infant but was never spoken about.




I found out that I was actually descended from an illegal immigrant who came.


In through Ellis island. Let's talk to Tony over in Brooklyn. Hey Tony, are you there?


I am there.


Some of these stories were nuts. One guy called in saying he's got a family tree of 1300 names. I couldn't believe it. I had like ten people on my family tree. I was jealous.


It's an amazing thing and I'm so happy that you guys are doing this little segment here.


I'm so glad you called.


You got to get it across to the people. They have to ask their relatives where they're from. There's so much to learn out there and I can only encourage you. You're doing a great job here.


Thanks so much. It's so important for us to understand.


Where we come from. I really appreciate everybody calling in with your stories.


That was wonderful. This is midday on WNYC. We'll be right back after the break. The half hour of radio was like a high. Just hearing all these people who had uncovered family secrets and histories, the type of information I craved myself. But more than that, it would actually set in motion a years long quest to uncover my own family secrets. And it started with an email from someone who was listening to the show that day. Pretty mundane email, really, was from a guy named Lou. Lou was a listener who wrote to me a lot to comment about whatever I was reporting on on the air. This email contained no formalities. No. Dear Matt, just first let me say that I know little about this stuff Lou says. But while Lou says he doesnt know anything about genetics, he does know a guy from synagogue with a PhD in genetics. And that guy told Lou that DNA tests may not be that accurate for testing jews because were a small percentage of the population and the DNA database doesnt have enough information on us. So maybe my results are wrong, but maybe not. Lou says, you gotta do more research, and it gives me a link to a private Facebook group called tracing the tribe.


It's a place for jewish genealogy nerds. A couple of days passed. One night I'm giving my kids a bath. Some nights, bath time is joyous and adorable. Other times it's, you know, it's just kind of annoying. And this was one of those times. So I step away for a minute to waste time on Facebook, and I remember Lou's email. Alright, what the hell? I dash off a quick note on tracing the tribe, giving them my spiel, asking to be admitted into the group. They let me in immediately, and I write a post. Hi, all. New member here. I'm starting to dig deep into my family history. After my interest was piqued following an DNA test, I believed I was 100% Ashkenazi Jewish. Turns out I'm british, scottish, or Irish. I've been tracing my family tree to make sense of this. I know DNA tests aren't necessarily accurate, but I would like to solve this mystery. Thanks for having me. Exclamation point. The first person to respond was blunt. Hate to break it to you, but sounds like you have one non Ashkenazi parent. When this happens, it usually means your father isn't who you expected.


Okay, Facebook conspiracy person. That's ridiculous. Except this person turned out to be what's known as a search angel. This is what they call someone who understands how to research genealogy and by the grace of their own hearts, helps people find their relatives. The search angel asked for access to my ancestry account so she could look around. That was at 10:41 p.m. Minutes later. Minutes later, she writes, okay, I believed I figured it out. She says that she has found someone that I share a lot of DNA with, a very close relation. Then she says this, and I think this match is your half sister. What the. I'm happy to walk it through with you. I'm sure this is all quite a shock. Um, yeah, I'm shocked. I'm confused. Doesn't make sense. I've just been trying to figure out why I'm half irish or whatever, and all of a sudden I have a half sister. It's now 11:45 p.m. And I'm trying to slow this all down, trying to process this, but my search angel keeps dropping bombs. She found my half sister's facebook page. Her name is Tara Collins. So now, I mean, okay, search angel lady.


I write, how did you find her? Three question marks on ancestry. Tara had a tree labeled Collins family tree. From there, the search angel found her mother's name and then found her mother's obituary elsewhere online. It's midnight. We're just going back and forth. I asked for the obituary for Tara's mother. I background people for a living as a journalist, so I checked my search angels work and it was rock solid. The woman who is showing up on my account as my close family was indeed named Tara Collins. And my search angel said, tara Collins and I had too many DNA centimorgans in common to be anything other than half siblings. Centimorgans, I'm now learning, are how genetic connections are measured. Thank you very much. I write the search angel. I guess I'll reach out to her. I appreciate your help. No problem, she wrote. I know it's all shocking, but I promise it gets better. Tara Collins, turns out, is the coolest.


Person I've ever encountered on the Internet.


I loved her Instagram account. Just beautiful pictures of plants and flowers and trees, thoughtful affirmations, whimsical pictures of friends. I learned that she's an energy healer, a medium, and a mystic in southern California.


So you're going to breathe in and breathe out. Breathe in.


It's now the middle of the night, and I'm scrolling through everything she's ever posted.


I want you to feel the sensation as if your best friend is about to approach you. Friend.


In one post, she wrote, I wish my life had background music so I could understand what the hell is going on. Yeah, same. There was a picture of her at the beach in Bali, arms in the air, looking at the ocean. And so it goes, she posted, I think I love that village old song. She certainly looked like she could be my sister. Same shape in the face, it seemed. And the eyes, maybe the coloring. She posted a selfie taken at the end of a five day silent meditation. She captioned it, here is your reminder that it is all a bit closer than you may think. All I was thinking about was how much she looked like me in the photo. There was no question this was my half sister. I had just turned 40 less than three weeks earlier. I celebrated in Amsterdam with a bunch of friends. Now, halfway through life, I was getting a half sister. And as I keep scrolling, I find a series of Instagram posts showing Tara with a bunch of her friends, blurring out her birthday candles, her 40th birthday candles. My jaw fell to the freaking ground.


So my half sister is 18 days younger than me. How does that even happen? Tara posted often about her niece and nephew. Her brother and father was, I related to them, too. My mom clearly didn't give birth 18 days after I was born, and my mom is 100% my mom. So does that mean Tara's father is my father? Or could this mean that Warren was both a secret irish guy living as a jewish guy and impregnating another woman within weeks of impregnating my mom? Like it didn't make any sense. I went on to and I sent Tara a quick note. I was really vague so as not to scare her off with a word like half sister. That was probably too vague. Hi. indicates we may be first cousins. I'm doing some research on my genealogy and trying to figure out who may be family. If you're also curious, let me know. Best, Matt. She never wrote back. I sent her a private message on Instagram. She never wrote back. I contacted her through her website. She never wrote back. And so I did. What you do when you're desperately trying to piece together some super crazy revelations about your siblings and maybe your father and maybe everything you ever knew about yourself.


I signed up for 23 andMe, the other main DNA database. I spit in a cup, shipped it in, and six weeks later, after returning from my in law's house in New Jersey, where we were breaking our fast for the jewish holiday of Yom Kippur, I got an email from 23 andme. Nothing about a father, but I was being alerted to a DNA match indicating I had a half sister. I figured Tara Collins signed up for this site, too. Then I clicked through. It was not Tara. It was someone completely different. So I have two half sisters. I messaged this sister immediately. This time I was direct. 23 andme says, you're my half sister. I would be very curious to chat. Moments later. Moments later, I'm still staring at my phone and a message pops up. She responded. She says she's been looking for me for years.


I've been on 23 andme for about five years now, hoping to find someone like you. You see, my mom was artificially inseminated, and so we never know who my dad was. Turns out we likely share a father. I am so excited. But I can guess this might be a lot for you to process.


Her name is Helena. What she's telling me in this moment while I'm standing in the kitchen putting away leftovers from my post Yom Kippur meal would keep me up. Nights would set me down a strange and exciting path toward understanding who I am and where I came from.


If you wish to know more, I'm very happy to tell you all I know.


Helena told me her story through a bunch of messages that night. She was in her thirties when she first learned that her parents had had trouble conceiving, so they went to a doctor in Manhattan. It was the seventies, and the doctor was using donor sperm to get women pregnant. Her mom later said she didn't know who the donor was and never had. When Helena was about six months old, her mother went back to the doctor who had helped her conceive. Her mother introduced the doctor to baby Helena. Oh, I was hoping she would be his, the doctor said, he is a very good looking guy, although has bad acne. Could that guy, the very good looking guy with acne, could he be my father? According to our DNA, it seemed he must be. Over the next few days, Helena and I learned we had both lived in Philly at the same time. We had met our spouses there. We had lived blocks from each other. Helena got married across the street from where my wife and I had our wedding rehearsal dinner, and in the very spot in a park where we had taken our wedding pictures.


We each had two kids, a boy and a girl. She asked, do you have super long fingers? Mine are like, super duper long. I'm also blind as a bat. Average length fingers here, but I'm also blind as a bat. By the time we got in touch, Helena had already done a ton of research to try to find the identity of the donor, the man who apparently was also my biological father. She is undeniably smarter than me. A professor and PhD in information systems, she clearly likes to solve puzzles. So she'd look at family trees and obituaries of people who matched on 23 andme as our second or third irish cousins. And from there, she figured out that on one family line, we came from the lynches of McCrum, County Cork, Ireland. When she told me this, I immediately google imaged McCrum. Lovely little pastoral place, old town, with an old castle in the middle. I'm scrolling through these photos, I see a church. Beautiful. Another church. And then I'm like, I wonder where the synagogue is, where my people would have gone. So I keep scrolling, and then I realize, wait a second, there is no synagogue because there were no jews there, because I'm not jewish.


On that whole side of my family, Helena and I knew that one way to find our father would be by connecting with cousins with close DNA who would be willing to help us figure it out. So we teamed up. Each time Helena identified a close relative on the DNA sites, I'd contact them. She'd tell me what questions to ask. But inevitably, when they wrote back, they'd ask me what my father's name was, and I would tell them, I don't know. And I'm actually looking for my father and hoping you can help me because I'm 45 and have these siblings and et cetera, et cetera. That would just shut them down. They would ghost me, not return my messages. It was like they were thinking, oh, man, that sounds messy. I don't want to get involved in that. I get it. Yeah, it was messy. And all of that mess swirled in my head. Warren, our father son trips to the bedding parlor, reuniting with him at Bennigan's while Kelly waited in the car, him saying he wanted to punch Richard, him ghosting me again, and now DNA and sperm donors and finding an energy healer sister on Instagram and investigating my roots with another sister.


I knew who I needed to talk to next. I would let this settle, and then I'd sit down with my mom. Next time on inconceivable truth, I'll preface.


By saying that, like, I love you very much for being my mom, obviously, and in reality, and then just going above and beyond my mom for the last 40 years and two months. I have a couple questions, and there's. There's no judgment whatsoever. And my, like, search for my ancestry is not about, like, replacing you or dad at all. I'm just, like, trying to figure out, like, you know, where I kind of came from.


Inconceivable truth is a production of Waveland and Rococo Punch. I'm writer and host Matt Katz. The story editor is Erica Lance. Mixing by James Trout. Emily Foreman is our producer. Natalie White is our intern. Special thanks to WNYC archivist Andy Lancet. Our executive producers are Jason Hoch at Waveland and John Parotti and Jessica Alpert at Vercoco. Punch. For photos and more details in the series, follow avelandmedia on Instagram X or Facebook, and you can reach out via email at podcastsaveland Media. That's Waveland. W A v L A N d. If you like the series, please leave us a review. And as always, don't forget to tell a friend or relative. I'm Matt Katz. Thanks for listening.


So that was a mind fuck.


Yeah. There's a lot of swearing in your podcast. Sorry, is this for adults only?




I mean, you think our children will hear these words for the first time? Is that what you're worried about?


I don't know.


I mean, friends will be playing this in their cars with their children.


I mean, you.


The idea that you're the one enforcing language is pretty funny.