Shows
Strong SongsFrom Bach to Miles Davis, with Emily ReeseKirk sits down with musician and podcaster Emily Reese to talk about the beauty of Bach's "Goldberg Variations," the distinct sound of Davis/Evans/Mulligan's "Birth of the Cool," the joys of the Knight Rider theme, and her podcast Level with Emily Reese, which focuses on the wide world of video game music. FEATURED/DISCUSSED:Emily's music podcast Level with Emily: https://www.levelwithemily.com"Singin' the Blues" feat. Frankie Trumbauer on C Melody Sax"Move," by Miles Davis and "Jeru," "Rocker," and "Venus de Milo" by Gerry Mulligan, arr Gil Evans from Birth of the C...2023-02-171h 18
The Emily Hibard Show008 Kathleen CookeMedia executive, writer and speaker, Kathleen Cooke, co-founded Cooke Media Group and the nonprofit The Influence Lab in Burbank, California.
She and her husband, Phil, travel to multiple cities and countries to produce and mentor leaders on how to use media more effectively. The focus of The Influence Lab is to help transform cultural conversation through multiple media platforms, rethink global media missions, and move Christian thinking from the outside and into the heart of culture.
Kathleen believes each person's life matters and that each person has a significant story that can influence others.
2022-01-1014 min
Nobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 15Three o’clock in the afternoon, and Shirley, of Shawnee Memorials, just across Harrison Avenue from Fairview Cemetery, was not taking any shit off my dad. We had come here at my urging; Dad had mentioned that he still needed to order a stone to mark the plot where Jenny’s and Edith’s remains were buried together. I could see that if I didn’t push a little, it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. And the grass in the Rose family plot, though a bit dry and thatched in patches, covered their grave so smoothly that no one...2011-04-2831 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 14The sound of pistons pumping, a lawn-mower pulse and wheeze, comes up behind her, and she looks over her shoulder to see the VW coming up fast: black and chrome, some of the shine worn off and anyway looking duller in this flat November light. She keeps her thumbs hooked under the leather of her backpack straps, walks backward and keeps her gaze straight and sober toward the driver of the car. It pulls over a few paces ahead and stops at an angle on the gravel margin. Under her boots the gray gravel rasps and she doesn't slow d...2011-04-2231 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 13"I serve with the German Armed Forces. My garrison is Hardheim, where I am stationed at Carl-Schurz-Kaserne. At present, I attend the Bundeswehrfachschule in Tauberbischofsheim.
"On Friday, 5 November 1971, I was driving in my VW...from Tauberbischofsheim to Hardheim between 12.20 and 12.30 o'clock. About 200 meters past the stone works on the B 27 I saw a young woman walk on the right-hand side of the road. She did not use the usual signal to indicate that she wanted a ride, but she turned around to face my vehicle. To me, this meant, she wanted a ride, so I braked and...2011-04-1542 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 12Terminal burrowing can be identified in reports of hypothermia deaths, but has only recently been given a name. It is a behavior pattern observed in the last stages of hypothermia whereby the afflicted will enter small, enclosed spaces, such as wardrobes, cupboards, and closets.
Outdoors, the victim may burrow into piles of leaves, the crevices between rocks or fallen trees, or into culverts. Searchers must be aware of the possibility that the missing persons may be thoroughly hidden and too hypothermic to respond to their calls.
It is most often observed in moderately cold conditions...2011-04-0829 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 11In Tübingen the houses sit along the River Neckar like nineteenth-century ladies on lounge chairs with flowing skirts and big hats: they look comfortable and bourgeois and unassailable. Like most of Germany. From the bridge over the river you can see a tower, painted yellow now, where the poet Hölderlin went crazy for 36 years: a long, slow burn that might, in other circumstances, be called life. This is where he wrote these words, which I found quoted by Paul Auster in The Invention of Solitude:
The lines of life are as various as roads or as2011-04-0133 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 10
Charles had given us maps and a police report when we visited him in Oklahoma City. He pulled out one map, of Hardheim and its surroundings, and pointed. “This is where Jennifer was…uh…murdered,” he told us. At the time, I wondered if his hesitancy over the word indicated uncertainty. But later I found that I, too, was reluctant to say it: murder. Not an easy word.
We had this itinerary we’d been given: Jennifer’s last stops on this earth. Did we think visiting them would make sense of things? I tried to tell myself...2011-03-2625 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 09
We had our money out to pay the Lufthansa flight attendant for our drinks—my no-name red wine and Dad’s Glenlivet—and when she moved on without even looking at the fold of bills in Dad’s hand we were practically giddy. Free drinks! It made being stuck in a metal and plastic capsule for eleven hours seem worth it.
The flight attendant, a slim German woman with blond hair gathered expertly into a chignon, must have thought us such rubes. We didn’t care. Salt of the earth! Thankful for small fa...2011-03-1727 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 08
“I’ve been thinking about a trip to Germany,” my father says on the phone one day. “I’m thinking I need to start thinking about Jenny in a new way.”
I’ve been thinking that too. And my father: the first thirty years of our time together are over; what are the next thirty going to be like?
What will we do in Germany? I’ve thought of going by myself, trying to find some things out. I see myself in a room with a man who was the last person to see Jenny alive. Did...2011-03-1038 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 07
Do you think you are free to live your life? We try to tell ourselves that the worst won’t happen, that we can leave the doors of our lives unlocked and the crazies won’t come through them, or if they do we can talk them down. We search the papers for the reasons behind the senseless murder—the plot. How can we still be doing this?
I grew up with the plot in my head: Jenny died hitchhiking. That was the “reason.” That was the “plot.” Her parents sent her there. That was the “pathos,” the “ho...2011-03-0328 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 06
Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry
Go to sleepy little baby.
When you wake, you will find
All the pretty little horses.
Dapples and grays, pintos and bays
All the pretty little horses.
Way down yonder, in the meadow,
Poor little baby, crying “mama”.
Birds and the butterflys flutter ‘round her eyes.
Poor little baby crying “mama”.
Hush-a-bye....
2011-03-0137 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 05
A few years ago, my father told me the story of how my Aunt Jenny's remains were shipped back to be put into different ground. Dad called me from Oklahoma to describe how my grandmother Edith stood by while workers dug up the urn from under the small brass marker that barely wrinkled the surface of the grass in Oak Park Cemetery. They opened the urn; Edith looked inside. I could see her standing there, in a tasteful suit and stockings and pumps, her light hair neatly and stiffly styled, bowing her head to see.
“The...2011-01-2729 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 04After my father stopped living with Mom and me, he spent his nights in his woodshop, in the lemon packing house that my grandfather Charles owned. The remains of the citrus groves still grew all around us in Claremont, and an old guy sold wooden crates of local lemons off the loading dock of the packing house: the sole survivor. When I visited my dad's shop there, I was afraid to go to the bathroom, because it was all the way on the other side of the packing house, and the big, scarred wood floor seemed huge, while the...2011-01-2230 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 03For a few years while I was growing up, a book called How to Do Your Own Divorce sat undisturbed on a bookshelf by our living-room fireplace. It just sat there, its paper spine facing out, between Passages and Last Things. This was in Southern California, on an alluvial fan of the San Gabriels, in a little falling-down house on Twelfth Street in Claremont. We moved there when I was five years old. My father’s parents, Charles and Edith, had fronted him the down payment for the house and planned to hand over the title when Dad came up...2011-01-2021 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 02
When I was two years old, my parents and I lived for a while in a cottage up Laurel Canyon. There is a picture of me from this time: I'm wearing toddler-sized cowgirl buckskins, my red hair is in high pigtails poking out each side of my head, I'm smiling, and I'm holding a toothbrush. Remember, this was less than two years after the Manson Family came down from the Ranch and murdered Sharon Tate and her guests up on Cielo Drive. The crazed women tasted blood and used it to scrawl PIG on the door. They crashed...2011-01-1821 minNobody's Property: Living on the Remains of a Life in CalforniaNobody's Property 01
I’m on the middle road from San Francisco to L.A., the 101, doing seventy behind a Chevy Chevelle past open-bed trucks hauling vegetables and buses hauling field workers, twin port-a-potties towed behind them. I noticed the Chevelle pulling out from the center divider outside Salinas—the gray dust it kicked up matched the primer that coated its aging body. Now every bus and truck it passes I blow by moments later, easing back into the right lane once I see both headlights in the rearview. I’ve had the feeling before of being in sync with another driver...2011-01-1428 min
Nobody's PropertyWhat I Saw in California Episode 05: Two WalksSummer 2003: I walk past the Balboa park BART station, here in the south-central outskirts of San Francisco. This place is not on the maps of the city that you see in the Travel pages or in guidebooks; usually it gets cut off just below the Mission. This is the las stop before Daly City. It is a place eviscerated by freeways, BART tracks, MUNI lines—bypassed, razor-wired, forgotten. But people live here, and on the side streets you can see sherbet-colored stucco bungalows built before World War II. The place is like a jigsaw puzzle made up of mismatched pi...2010-11-3018 min
Nobody's PropertyWhat I Saw in California Episode 04: AtascaderoMy instinct, mid-stream in the molasses flow of late-afternoon San Francisco traffic, was to just keep moving. This was getting us nowhere. Mom sat beside me listlessly looking out the car window while I steered us around and around, trying to make out the logic of this neighborhood: a tangle of pockmarked city streets, overpasses, skyways, and gracelessly aging industrial buildings that housed sweatshops and auto mechanics. Here and there an artist had carved out a space in all the late-industrial jumble, but SoMa, that amalgam of material desire and millennial longing, hadn't been invented yet. It was still...2010-10-3032 min
Nobody's PropertyWhat I Saw in California Episode 03: ThunderbirdI measure the imported rice, squeeze the plum tomatoes and chop them, chop the flat-leaf parsley and rosemary from the garden, the garlic, the onion. I grate the cheese and dice the celery, drizzle olive oil into a heavy casserole, eyeballing the measure. In go the garlic and celery. Dinner will be tomato parmesan risotto and rabbit with white wine sauce. The rabbit pieces are soaking in cold water in a clear glass bowl in the deep stainless sink. I lift each piece out and let it drip, then put it on paper towels I have spread on the...2010-10-1515 minNobody's PropertyWhat I Saw in California Episode 02: Domestic WaterUp at Pulgas Ridge Megadog and I walk the Cordilleras Trail past the multiple-addiction rehab center tucked at the edge of San Francisco Water Department land. This open space, reserved for hikers and their dogs, is flanked by the rehab on one side and the county mental health services on the other. Sometimes we see guys playing basketball out in back of the rehab building, its tile roof and pale stucco walls aging with Katherine Hepburn style under California live oaks. Sometimes we see them tending their garden, where tomatoes still ripen on the vine on into the fall...2010-08-2114 minNobody's PropertyWhat I Saw in California Episode 01: Sweet MarieIt doesn’t help that I have PMS on the day my chicken dies. I find her in the backyard coop, one wing drooping out of the nest, her head lolling. I have always told myself that if illness struck my tiny flock of two I would face it with the pragmatic detachment of a farmer, letting nature take its course or, in the interest of humane treatment, helping nature along by whatever means I had at my disposal (but not owning an axe, I’m not sure what I expected I would do: twist the necks of birds I ha...2010-08-0715 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 15: RoseThree o’clock in the afternoon, and Shirley, of Shawnee Memorials, just across Harrison Avenue from Fairview Cemetery, was not taking any shit off my dad.
We had come here at my urging; Dad had mentioned that he still needed to order a stone to mark the plot where Jenny’s and Edith’s remains were buried together. I could see that if I didn’t push a little, it wasn’t going to happen any time soon. And the grass in the Rose family plot, though a bit dry and thatched in patches, covered their grave so smoothl...2010-07-3131 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 14: StupidThe sound of pistons pumping, a lawn-mower pulse and wheeze, comes up behind her, and she looks over her shoulder to see the VW coming up fast: black and chrome, some of the shine worn off and anyway looking duller in this flat November light. She keeps her thumbs hooked under the leather of her backpack straps, walks backward and keeps her gaze straight and sober toward the driver of the car. It pulls over a few paces ahead and stops at an angle on the gravel margin. Under her boots the gray gravel rasps and she doesn't slow...2010-07-0931 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 13: Terminal Burrowing"I serve with the German Armed Forces. My garrison is Hardheim, where I am stationed at Carl-Schurz-Kaserne. At present, I attend the Bundeswehrfachschule in Tauberbischofsheim.
"On Friday, 5 November 1971, I was driving in my VW...from Tauberbischofsheim to Hardheim between 12.20 and 12.30 o'clock. About 200 meters past the stone works on the B 27 I saw a young woman walk on the right-hand side of the road. She did not use the usual signal to indicate that she wanted a ride, but she turned around to face my vehicle. To me, this meant, she wanted a ride, so I braked and...2010-06-2643 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 12: What I KnowTerminal burrowing can be identified in reports of hypothermia deaths, but has only recently been given a name. It is a behavior pattern observed in the last stages of hypothermia whereby the afflicted will enter small, enclosed spaces, such as wardrobes, cupboards, and closets.
Outdoors, the victim may burrow into piles of leaves, the crevices between rocks or fallen trees, or into culverts. Searchers must be aware of the possibility that the missing persons may be thoroughly hidden and too hypothermic to respond to their calls.
It is most often observed in moderately cold conditions...2010-06-1229 minNobody's PropertySequoiacast Episode 03: SenselessShe's six years oldAll she sees are dirty walls around her Men coming in and out the front door She wants to run cry and yell But there is nobody there to help She sees many different faces Touching them in all the wrong places Hearing the door open and close She follows him because she is the one he chose
--Gabriela
I spoke with Gabriela, Bernardo, Heriberto, Santiago, Escarlet, Esmeralda, and Aldo on Friday, May 21, 2010. Listen.
Music by airtone: sometimes instrumental mix; and...2010-05-2827 minNobody's PropertySequoiacast Episode 02: FreeAccording to the nonprofit California Against Slavery, seventy percent of slaves worldwide are now women; fifty percent are children. Human trafficking is now tied with weapons sales, and second only to the drug trade, in terms of profitability in the illicit global marketplace. What surprised me most when I met with Eduardo, Javier, Daena, Gaby, Laura, and Blanca was to learn that San Francisco is now a bustling center of trade in humans. Our conversation took place on Thursday, May 20, 2010.
Music by airtone: sometimes instrumental mix; and kCentric; both from ccMixter. Visit Creative Commons to view the...2010-05-2827 minNobody's PropertySequoiacast Episode 01: PapersOn Wednesday, May 19, 2010, I sat down with Marcela, Donaciano, Anet, Rocio, and Maria to discuss Arizona Senate Bill 1070, the widely protested new law requiring proof of citizenship or resident status on demand from peace officers or other government agents in that state. What emerged was a coversation about identity, aspiration, and the economic cycles that regularly make restrictive and discriminatory immigration policy the order of the day. Our talk inspired me to read the actual text of the law and think about the tricky language it uses to skirt the charge of racism. It also reminded me, once again...2010-05-2628 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 11: Tourist InformationIn Tübingen the houses sit along the River Neckar like nineteenth-century ladies on lounge chairs with flowing skirts and big hats: they look comfortable and bourgeois and unassailable. Like most of Germany. From the bridge over the river you can see a tower, painted yellow now, where the poet Hölderlin went crazy for 36 years: a long, slow burn that might, in other circumstances, be called life. This is where he wrote these words, which I found quoted by Paul Auster in The Invention of Solitude:
The lines of life are as various as roads or as...2010-05-2233 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 10: Rasthaus SchwarzCharles had given us maps and a police report when we visited him in Oklahoma City. He pulled out one map, of Hardheim and its surroundings, and pointed. “This is where Jennifer was…uh…murdered,” he told us. At the time, I wondered if his hesitancy over the word indicated uncertainty. But later I found that I, too, was reluctant to say it: murder. Not an easy word.
We had this itinerary we’d been given: Jennifer’s last stops on this earth. Did we think visiting them would make sense of things? I tried to tell myself we we...2010-05-1526 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 09: Free DrinksWe had our money out to pay the Lufthansa flight attendant for our drinks—my no-name red wine and Dad’s Glenlivet—and when she moved on without even looking at the fold of bills in Dad’s hand we were practically giddy. Free drinks! It made being stuck in a metal and plastic capsule for eleven hours seem worth it.
The flight attendant, a slim German woman with blond hair gathered expertly into a chignon, must have thought us such rubes. We didn’t care. Salt of the earth! Thankful for small favors! Not taking ourselves too seriou...2010-05-0727 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 08: Civilized Tribe“I’ve been thinking about a trip to Germany,” my father says on the phone one day. “I’m thinking I need to start thinking about Jenny in a new way.”
I’ve been thinking that too. And my father: the first thirty years of our time together are over; what are the next thirty going to be like?
What will we do in Germany? I’ve thought of going by myself, trying to find some things out. I see myself in a room with a man who was the last person to see Jenny alive. Did he ki...2010-04-3038 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 07: The PlotDo you think you are free to live your life? We try to tell ourselves that the worst won’t happen, that we can leave the doors of our lives unlocked and the crazies won’t come through them, or if they do we can talk them down. We search the papers for the reasons behind the senseless murder—the plot. How can we still be doing this?
I grew up with the plot in my head: Jenny died hitchhiking. That was the “reason.” That was the “plot.” Her parents sent her there. That was the “pathos,” the “hook.” And so...2010-04-2428 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 06: EvidenceHush-a-bye, don’t you cry Go to sleepy little baby. When you wake, you will find All the pretty little horses.
Dapples and grays, pintos and bays All the pretty little horses.
Way down yonder, in the meadow, Poor little baby, crying “mama”. Birds and the butterflys flutter ‘round his eyes. Poor little baby crying “mama”.
Hush-a-bye....
Music by Kristin Hersh: kristinhersh.cashmusic.org or www.kristinhersh.com
Sorry for the crazy German accent!2010-04-1737 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 05: Living on the RemainsA few years ago, my father told me the story of how my Aunt Jenny's remains were shipped back to be put into different ground. Dad called me from Oklahoma to describe how my grandmother Edith stood by while workers dug up the urn from under the small brass marker that barely wrinkled the surface of the grass in Oak Park Cemetery. They opened the urn; Edith looked inside. I could see her standing there, in a tasteful suit and stockings and pumps, her light hair neatly and stiffly styled, bowing her head to see. “There were actually quite la...2010-04-0929 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 04: Base LineAfter my father stopped living with Mom and me, he spent his nights in his woodshop, in the lemon packing house that my grandfather Charles owned. The remains of the citrus groves still grew all around us in Claremont, and an old guy sold wooden crates of local lemons off the loading dock of the packing house: the sole survivor. When I visited my dad's shop there, I was afraid to go to the bathroom, because it was all the way on the other side of the packing house, and the big, scarred wood floor seemed huge, while the...2010-04-0331 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 03: My Mother's EggFor a few years while I was growing up, a book called How to Do Your Own Divorce sat undisturbed on a bookshelf by our living-room fireplace. It just sat there, its paper spine facing out, between Passages and Last Things. This was in Southern California, on an alluvial fan of the San Gabriels, in a little falling-down house on Twelfth Street in Claremont. We moved there when I was five years old. My father’s parents, Charles and Edith, had fronted him the down payment for the house and planned to hand over the title when Dad came up...2010-03-2622 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 02: ChaparralWhen I was two years old, my parents and I lived for a while in a cottage up Laurel Canyon. There is a picture of me from this time: I'm wearing toddler-sized cowgirl buckskins, my red hair is in high pigtails poking out each side of my head, I'm smiling, and I'm holding a toothbrush. Remember, this was less than two years after the Manson Family came down from the Ranch and murdered Sharon Tate and her guests up on Cielo Drive. The crazed women tasted blood and used it to scrawl PIG on the door. They crashed more...2010-03-2021 minNobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 01: Tiny DancerI’m on the middle road from San Francisco to L.A., the 101, doing seventy behind a Chevy Chevelle past open-bed trucks hauling vegetables and buses hauling field workers, twin port-a-potties towed behind them. I noticed the Chevelle pulling out from the center divider outside Salinas—the gray dust it kicked up matched the primer that coated its aging body. Now every bus and truck it passes I blow by moments later, easing back into the right lane once I see both headlights in the rearview. I’ve had the feeling before of being in sync with another driver on thi...2010-03-1228 min
Nobody's PropertyNobody's Property Episode 00: Situation/StoryNovember 4, 1971
Jennifer Rose Cooke, a girl from California, just turned 18, goes missing in a frigid forest in West Germany. She has been hitchhiking. First she caught a ride with a trucker, then with a West German soldier. Maybe she was trying to visit a young professor she had met on the boat over from New York. On that trip, he had heard her say she might throw herself overboard.
April 28, 1972 Another girl, just turned three, lives with her parents in a house in Laurel Canyon that lets the California rain in. Her biggest fear...2010-03-1100 min