HOLIDAY SALE AT THE ONION STORE

The Bucket List This American Life

The A.V. Club finally gets around to every local institution, one at a time

This American Life
by Steve Heisler April 16, 2009

More The Bucket List

Related artists

Related articles

More than a schmaltzy piece of clichéd dreck with Jack Nicholson, Morgan Freeman, and Sean Hayes, the bucket list is a giant to-do list of things we all vow to do someday, maybe, or at least when friends from out of town stop by and crash on our air mattress. Sensing our own mortality, The A.V. Club gets the jump on death and vows to check out every “you’ve never seen ____?!” in town, determining whether it was worth the wait or worth dying having not experienced it. In this outing: This American Life, the radio show so popular with the kids (and the elderly) these days.

Originally syndicated by Chicago Public Radio, This American Life is an hour-long magazine program, providing in-depth slice-of-life stories that are presented within a theme. But host Ira Glass and company ran into a bit of a labeling problem since the show began in 1995. As a rather lengthy section on the This American Life website begins, "One of our problems from the start has been that when we try to describe This American Life in a sentence or two, it just sounds awful." I'd have to agree. For years, people assumed that This American Life was a part of my weekly routine; then, upon finding out was not, they'd launch into a stammering, vague explanation of the show. The word "good" got thrown around a lot, but what they'd say would inevitably sound a lot like "a bunch of themed stories"—a.k.a. "not that appealing."

Still, I heard enough praise to want to give it a shot, but fitting it into my schedule became a chore. Anything besides music is a distraction while I work. (Also, I don't own a car, and I've been told road trips are great TAL listening opportunities.) So, that meant I could either sit myself down in front of my computer, or download the podcast to my iPod and take it to go. But sitting at my desk and doing nothing felt odd—plus, I'd wind up surfing around the Internet and miss the show entirely—and, for whatever reason, I was under the impression that iPods were for music listenin' only.

But with the live show coming to town on Sunday at The Chicago Theatre (the radio program is no longer Chicago-based—it moved to New York to work on the Showtime series), I thought it was high time to give TAL its proper due. What follows is my own retelling of three stories: Three TAL episodes; three different settings.

"Switched At Birth"—Sitting in my apartment
TAL has a page on its website devoted to favorite episodes chosen by the staff, so I figured, onward! And the first on the list (and, by default, the best) was an episode from last summer. In 1951, Mary Miller and Kay McDonald each gave birth to baby girls on the same day. The doctor, however, switched their babies, so little Sue was raised as a McDonald, and Marti as a Miller. But the two families knew each other (not friends per sé, but they shared mutual acquaintances) and Mary Miller was the only one who thought something was fishy—in fact, she sent a letter to both daughters on their 43rd birthdays, detailing her switched-at-birth theory. As the piece unfolded, I planted myself in the big green comfy chair in the corner of my apartment, my computer speakers at full volume. Thoughts flooded my mind: Was this bothering my neighbors? Where was I supposed to look? How in the hell was I supposed to keep track of all these people in the story, especially given that they were all in the wrong families?

But about a half an hour into the episode, when it becomes clear that Kay McDonald was not taking the news well, I found myself seeing these characters in my mind, and how they might have looked when they talked to the interviewer. When it came time for the final scene—a party attended by the two daughters—I was eager to hear how it played out. It may sound obvious, but I began to appreciate the lengths TAL went through to flesh out its characters; the show didn't have to tell me why I should care about these people, but, instead, it brought me into their world and allowed me to make the decision for myself. TAL warmed on me a little.

(Ira Glass on storytelling, part one):
"The Giant Pool Of Money"—Walking around the neighborhood
Before the current financial crisis, there was This American Life, reporting on a significant portion of said financial crisis. Yes, back in May of 2008 (such a simpler time), TAL teamed up with the National Public Radio financial news team to document what was happening to mortgages across the country—why people with no assets and no income were getting giant-sized loans from banks. Like other TAL stories, this Peabody award-winning episode only casually reports on hard news through conversational asides between reporters Alex Blumberg and Adam Davidson like, "I promise this is the only time we will talk about Alan Greenspan"; instead, the program hits many character-based points of entry into this saga, interviewing mortgage brokers, small bank employees, and borrowers—many of whom were so poor that they coundn't even make the first payment on their new house.
Meanwhile, it was a sunny day in Roscoe Village, and I was cruising on foot while a broker in my headphones talked about his $75,000 a month salaries and late-night parties with Tara Reid. Steps became blocks; blocks became miles—and before I knew it, the hour passed, and my thoughts were racing—only an hour has passed, and my mind has been modestly blown. Maybe this was that "knowledge" drug all those dealers talked about. I eagerly anticipated my next TAL outing.

(Part two):
"Notes On Camp"—Riding the L
As a former camp attendee (eight summers in the Northwoods of Wisconsin, combined from camper and counselor years), I've noticed the definite discrepancy between "camp people" and "others" for ages. Turns out, Glass has noticed too, and he and another producer spent a chunk of time at a camp in Michigan during the summer of 1998, hoping to bridge that gap. The resulting hour, divided into six categories like "Mr. Popular" and "Color Wars," document what it's like to spend summer after summer away from the conventions of normal society, surrounded by the camaraderie and shared experiences associated with any close-knit living situation. Not surprisingly, it was my camp friends who have been talking up this segment for years.
The piece is paced well, so individual campers and counselors share focus—listener stories, recorded over the phone, break up the narrative. I was totally drawn in, away from thoughts of my impending work day. As it turns out, this was exactly what my morning commute lacked; screw my fellow train passengers and their "music," for I discovered my respite from the grind. And I've come to realize that, at the heart of it, This American Life provides a rare thing: pause. Frankly, that's all the explanation I need anymore—I'm sold and even making time for it.

« Back to A.V. Chicago home

Share Tools