Podcasts about Jeff Hunt

Rae Alexandra has 35 stories to share with you, plus her own. In this Women's History Month episode, meet and get to know Rae. She recently published a book with City Lights Publishing called Unsung Heroines: 35 Women Who Changed the Bay Area. It's of course available at City Lights, but you can also find it at your local independent bookstore. I read the book and could not put it down. Only toward the end of the 35 essays did I start to recognize the women Rae features. I love history and I love learning and I have mixed feelings about the fact that there are so many rad women whose stories are untold. Thank you, Rae Alexandra, for shining on a light on these incredible women. These days, she's a staff writer at KQED. But Rae's story starts in Wales in the UK. She grew up in Cardiff, the capital of the country. (I learn in the conversation that Wales is a country. I also learn that "United Kingdom" and "Great Britain" are the same thing. Now, British vs. English we don't touch, for obvious reasons. But I digress …) Ed. note: I'll describe my conversation with Rae as two Gen Ex journalist types with ADHD (is that redundant?) doing their best to be linear. To me, the meanderings of our talk are totally normal. Rae says that Wales is delightful and has all the best castles, but that's because of the number times the country has been invaded and conquered. Close to where her mom lives today is a castle that boasts the world's largest crossbow. When I ask when Rae was born (1978), we discover that she's a horse as in Year of the Horse (aka 2026). Cool. Rae continued to call Cardiff home up through her college years. She didn't go to another school outside of Wales that had accepted her because she was attached to a group of skateboarders in her hometown. After she graduated, though, she moved to London. Music has been central for Rae as far back as she remembers (same). She shares stories of being maybe 5 and listening to the Top 40 with her cassette recorder ready to nab her favorite songs (same). According to Rae, the English look down on the Welsh, and have for some time, based on classist generalizations. Wales is where the UK mines most of its coal. London-types consider their neighbors to the southwest feral, and in some regards, the Welsh are, she says. In the Eighties, she remembers stories about IRA bombings appearing on the news nightly. Also, in Wales, miners went on strike and everyone knew about it. Rae says that Wales in the Eighties was essentially like listening to The Clash. We go on a sidebar about siblings, birth order, and what it means to be the youngest, which Rae and I both are. Growing up, she was close with both her older sisters. Today, one lives in Australia and the other lives in the London suburbs. Around age 10, Rae discovered metal. By 12, she decided that she would become a music journalist. In her teen years, she "snuck" her writing into local and college newspapers. The music journalism she consumed in those days included publications like Smash Hits, Kerrang!, NME, and Melody Maker. In fact, her first job out of college was at Kerrang! We go on a sidebar on the whole idea of living somewhere vs. visiting, and how they're so totally different on every level. I use Chicago, where I lived for a full six months in the Nineties, as my example. Rae offers up a stay in Brooklyn as hers. That job at Kerrang! is what brought Rae to London, another place she found impossible to live. I ask her to expound on what it was about the place, and she indulges me. She says that you have to be obscenely wealthy to live in Central London, so most folks are forced to the outskirts. But the jobs are in the middle of town, and so you end up spending around two or three hours a day commuting underground. It was/is also gray—the weather, the architecture—and the people in London were, as Rae describes it, hostile. When she goes into detail about the ways in which they were hostile, we agree that only you get to shit on your own hometown. People who aren't from there aren't allowed. It's a rule. Look it up. After a year working for the magazine in London, Rae met a guy from San Francisco. She'd been to The City and even spent significant time here working for Maximum Rock 'n' Roll. (At this point in the recording, I mistakenly call the BBQ place near Hayes and Divisadero until sometime in the early 2000s "Brothers." It was in fact called Brother in-law's. My apologies.) She moved in with that guy she met, lived with him for six months in London, and then it was time for him to come home to SF. He asked her if she wanted to join him and she accepted. She had already transitioned to freelance writing for the magazine, because office life didn't suit her, so work wasn't so much a problem. But upon arrival, she soon discovered how difficult it was to do anything without a Social Security number. That added an extra layer to moving here. But it wasn't the place itself or its people that made things hard. It was the system, so to speak. Also, while she was getting settled and learning how to survive in the US without an SSN, she started to see that the guy was, let's just say, not for her. She felt he'd been playing the long game when they lived together in London, but once back on his home turf, some of his sociopath tendencies emerged. It was 2002 and she lived in Bernal Heights on Cortland. She spent most of her time in the Mission, just down the hill. After a short time, the guy convinced her that they needed to get married, so they moved back to London. The marriage lasted three months, and Rae returned to her new home—San Francisco. When she came back, she experienced a stretch of housing instability. You could call it "couch surfing," but either way, it was dicey. Six months or so later, things settled. It was easier to live cheaply in the early 2000s, also. A $5 burrito could be a whole day's worth of food. And Rae had befriended enough bartenders that she rarely paid full-price for booze. She describes "The Blackout Triangle" of Killowatt, Delirium, and Dr. Bombay's. She also regularly visited Beauty Bar until that place went downhill. Check back this Thursday for Part 2 with Rae Alexandra. We recorded this episode at Vesuvio in North Beach in February 2026. Photography by Jeff Hunt

Part 3 picks up right where we left off in Part 2. While she was still working that real estate job, Sonia was treating dating like a part-time job. She signed up on several dating sites (this was before swipe apps like Bumble). She went on many awkward coffee dates. Then a friend introduced her to a guy, and the two hit it off right away. They were inseparable from the moment they met, in 2008. They moved in a couple months later. In 2010, they got married, and had a kid shortly after that. But in the middle of all this amazing life shit, Sonia was smacked with a breast cancer diagnosis. She was 38. Sonia had never necessarily wanted to be a mom. She was always happy for friends when they started having kids, but figured it just wasn't in her stars because she wanted a different kind of life. But her new partner and eventual husband told her it was a deal-breaker, and she figured, Why not? They moved from Dogpatch to Glen Park around this time, because they wanted to raise their kid in The City but needed more space to do that, and the options weren't great. Their son was born and they began raising him, eventually getting him into SF public schools. When the kid was about two-and-a-half, Sonia and her husband started to wonder whether he was on the autism spectrum. A positive diagnosis was made eventually. Sonia praises The City and its programs for kids with special needs. And, like some kids on the spectrum, he's obsessed with public transportation, so he's in the right place. (If you listen all the way through to the end of this episode, you'll hear his recording of a BART announcement.) Like most of us, the pandemic did a number on Sonia's little family. Their version went like this: The marriage did not survive. Ed note: We had Sonia and her then-husband on for our Valentine's 2019 episode. After the break-up, at Sonia's request, we took that episode down. She says that before the pandemic, she imagined that the relationship was as good as it gets. In hindsight, she thinks maybe her second breast cancer diagnosis, after her son was born, broke her husband. Up to that point, he'd been a great partner and excellent dad and solid caretaker for his wife through her first bout. The second diagnosis, coupled with a worldwide pandemic, inspired him to do not great things. Sonia tried to save the marriage, but some of her girlfriends took her down to the Madonna Inn and, as she puts it, "shook the shit out of" her. Her new reality meant figuring out what to do every other weekend when she didn't have her son. It was a lot of going to movies solo and doing 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzles while listening to podcasts. The road to healing involved early stints on dating apps, but usually only to wake up the next morning and immediately pull back. She's really learned to love her alone time. We rewind back to 2015 to talk about the origins of a big part of Sonia's life today—podcasting. She and her now-ex-husband launched Old Movies, New Beer, a show where they'd drink a beer that was new to them while chatting about some film from the past. She enjoyed it, but he fell off quickly. A friend from her movie theater days hit her up to do a show about movies, and so Dorking Out was born. It also didn't last long, but in that time, Sonia started discovering podcasts she liked. There was F This Movie and Book vs. Movie. One of the Book vs. Movie hosts was Margo Donahue, and Sonia was a fan. She reached out and the two started following each other. The love was mutual. Dorking Out had Margo on as a guest and she and Sonia gelled so well, her co-host essentially became a third wheel. When he left for unrelated reasons, she kept having Margo come back on the show. Margo slid in to become the show's new co-host. The two became as close as you can living across the continent from each other. One day, Margo shared an idea she had for a new show. She wanted to call it Seriously, Fuck That Guy. It was amid the Me Too Movement, and they'd talk about whatever piece of shit man they wanted (think: Kevin Spacey or Harvey Weinstein). But every episode would end with someone who's not an asshole. Sonia was in, no question, but she thought maybe they needed a different name. It was early 2017, and What a Creep was born. Early episode creeps included Lance Armstrong and Newt Gingrich, someone Sonia considers an OG creep. When Sonia and her ex split up, Margo was her main support. They continued doing What a Creep until 2025, when Margo suddenly passed away. They were supposed to record one day last year and Margo didn't show up. Sonia called and texted mutual friends and eventually called NYC police. Sonia had to decide whether to keep What a Creep going. She settled on having rotating guest hosts on (Erin of Bitch Talk Podcast was on recently to talk about Dick Cheney; we're in talks to have me on soon as well, which I'd be stoked to do). She appreciates the community that has developed over the years around the show. She loves it so much that it's what keeps up her presence on Facebook. I ask Sonia whether there are any San Francisco creeps we might hear more about in the future. She mentions our mayor and our governor while saying that the show leaves space for so-called roads to redemption. I like that. But I also suggest doing episodes on AI or the stupid-ass billboards all over The City. In contrast to that, we end the episode with Sonia talking about the kind of tech we do want. We recorded this episode at Rosamunde in The Mission in January 2026. Photography by Jeff Hunt

In Part 2, we pick up where we left off in Part 1, with Sonia's life right after her stint at community college. She left the Bay Area to attend college up north at Chico State. Widely known as a party school (perhaps rightly so?), they also had a reputable journalism department and an award-winning newspaper. This attracted Sonia, of course. But some friends also attended, and that didn't hurt. Once in Chico, Sonia joined said college paper and got a job (where else?) at a movie theater. It was her first time to move out of her parents' house. She lived with a couple of roommates in Chico. That was one culture shock. Another was that, well, Chico isn't The Bay. And then there's those foothills winters. It also gets hotter in the summer there than it does in Concord. Sonia wrote for every section of the school paper, and even did some online writing, thanks to Chico State's early adoption of the internet. She even developed a little campus fan base. Sometimes walking around, she'd get shout-outs. There was even a Sonia character in one of the local comic strips. It was another phase of finding her people. She thinks that because all her roommates in Chico were men, she got really exciting to hang out with young women. She graduated after three years, in 1996. That Bay Area magnet snatched her back after that, and she moved in with her parents again in Concord. That gave way to an apartment she shared with her sister. Sonia got a job at the Martinez News-Gazette around this time, a three-day-a-week paper where she earned $213 per week. Anywhere she could find free food, she pounced. At the newspaper, she more or less did it all—cops, local and community news, school board meetings, and, of course, a humor column. I ask Sonia who her humor influences and inspirations are, and she immediately cites George Carlin (this is probably a big part of why we're friends). Her dad loved Carlin, too, and Sonia says the old man also has a wicked sense of humor that rubbed off on her. Another source of jokes was none other than Bugs Bunny. And lastly, Alan Alda's Hawkeye in M•A•S•H is another humor muse. That newspaper job led to her time at the San Francisco Independent, a paper owned by the Fang family. Sonia did a neighborhood beat on that job, reporting on school board, planning commission, and other community meetings. We rewind for a minute so Sonia can share early memories and impressions of San Francisco, having grown up across The Bay. When she was a kid, her grandma would take her to see The Nutcracker. She'd visit on other special occasions, but it wasn't until she was an adult that The City really grabbed hold of her heart. There's a hilarious story about showing up to dance at The Palladium wearing a "Ross Perot for President" T-shirt. Years later, with that job at the Independent, Sonia found herself in San Francisco most days. Though she had to write only three stories, the money was better and the circulation bigger than her previous job in Martinez. The beat was familiar—school board and planning commission meetings. She and her sister had bought a house for themselves in Concord, where they lived with her young niece. Eventually, the paper transferred Sonia to its Burlingame office, but it was to start writing movie reviews. Eventually, she even convinced the Independent to let her write TV show reviews. When the Fangs bought the San Francisco Examiner, they kept Sonia on to be their TV critic and moved her back to The City, to an office above the Warfield. She'll be the first to admit that when you're getting paid to watch TV, it's not so fun anymore. The paper cut Sonia, but brought her back three weeks later, this time to be the A&E editor. The Examiner was a slimmed-down, tabloid version of its former self. That's how it was a few years later when, fresh out of journalism school at SF State, I got a job there as a copy editor. I distinctly remember one of my favorite daily tasks was editing Sonia's celebrity gossip column—Scoop, which happened early in my shifts, around 4 p.m. or so. In the episode, I riff about how much I loved reading Scoop every day, even though I've never been good at or cared much for celebrity news. I also let Sonia know that I also appreciated her presence off the page, in the newsroom. She describes her time at The Examiner as something she loved, but it was also hard. She shares that, after working long days for little pay, she'd go home and play The Sims. Once, around 3 a.m., playing the game, her character was going to a party. And it clicked: Sonia couldn't remember the last time she went to a party. She needed to make some changes, and one was leaving The Examiner. First up was an HR temp job where her mom worked, in Vallejo. Next was a job writing press releases for a real estate company. Then she found work at a printing company in Oakland called PS Print. (Our lives intersected again around this time, but that's another story.) She helped them create a social media presence. Outside of work, Sonia had a blog (which she still has) called The Sonia Show. Check back tomorrow for Part 3 with Sonia. We recorded this episode at Rosamunde in The Mission in January 2026. Photography by Jeff Hunt

The story of Sonia Mansfield has roots in The Bay. In this episode, we meet and get to know my friend Sonia. She and I worked together at the Fangs' Examiner back in the mid-2000s, and have been friends since. I loved her presence in the newsroom. I'd often listen to her make us all laugh from her A&E desk across the room. We've been through weddings, births, illness, divorces, and many, many beers together. These days, she hosts the What a Creep podcast, and I'm so glad you get to meet her now. We begin Part 1 with the story of Sonia's parents. Her dad is from Richmond, California, and her mom is from Concord. Her dad eventually moved to Concord, where he went to Mt. Diablo High and dated a girl who turned out to be Sonia's mom's best friend. After her dad got his heart broken by that friend, Sonia's mom jumped right in. They were high school sweethearts who got married right after graduation, and have been together ever since. The young couple had their first kid—Sonia—a couple years later, when they were 21. Another girl came around about three years later, followed by a boy five years after that. Sonia was born and grew up in Concord. She recalls the East Bay town before BART, with plenty of wide-open fields and other undeveloped spaces. She rollerskated a lot (hey, it was the Seventies, after all) at local roller rinks. The Concord Pavilion (now known as Toyota Pavilion at Concord—barf) was where big touring acts played, and Sonia went to her share of concerts there. Her childhood and early adulthood were, in her words, "so Gen X." She and her siblings and their neighborhood friends ran wild, like feral animals. Anyone from this generation, including me, can relate. Looking back as an adult with a kid now, Sonia figures her parents just wanted them out of the house. What's the worst that could happen? The only "surveillance" would be: If the family dog, a Dachshund named Oscar, was sitting outside a nearby house, you could bet that Sonia was inside. He got there by chasing his favorite person while she rode her bike. No leash. Why would you? It was so laissez-faire, in fact, that Sonia says she would walk into strangers' houses. "You're watching cartoons. I like cartoons." Cool. Her sister was always part of her crew, her and other kids from the neighborhood. They also had hella cousins. Sonia's mom is one of eight kids in her family. We go on a little sidebar about all the crazy, dangerous shit we all did as kids. In Texas, there was a certain kind of injury, where some part of your body scraped across cement or asphalt. We called it "getting skinned," and it hurt like hell. But it was just part of the game. The conversation turns to Sonia's earliest days loving TV and movies. She's loved them as long as she remembers, thanks to her dad. He used to love going to theaters to watch movies. Now, he prefers seeing them from the comfort of his own home, but it speaks to his love of the medium. And Sonia says she got that from her old man. Her mom also loves movies, and kept going to theaters longer than her husband. She took her eldest daughter with her almost always. The movies they saw were never age-appropriate, but she got in because she was with her mom. Young Sonia also loved TV Guide, and would read the magazine from front-to-back, word-for-word. She says that before the internet, before Google, her dad would call Sonia and ask her about movies. The TV was always on, something else I relate to (my parents, both in their mid-eighties, still do this). Sonia was an early MTV adopter. Probably because her parents were younger than most, they liked cool music and Sonia heard a lot of it. That whole "walk into neighbors' houses, everyone's my friend" ran head-first into seventh grade, when Sonia learned the hard way that it just can't be true. One day, on the bus she rode every day, one kid started teasing her and then got other kids on the bus to join in. And it happened again the next day. And the next. The torture lasted for months. And it wasn't just the bus—the dude kept up the torment in the classroom. She says that the bullying changed her chemically. She went from open and outgoing to shy and afraid. She started spending more and more time in the school library during lunch. She didn't share her shame with anyone—not friends, not her parents. She internalized it. Part of turning inward for Sonia meant watching more and more TV. She'd go see movies alone. But it's not like she had zero friends. Sonia found her weirdos, the nerds and theater kids, and kept her circle small. She got even more into writing during this time in her life. In middle school, she'd write "really shitty short stories." She asked her parents for and they bought her an electric typewriter. In high school, she took a creative writing class and joined the school paper staff, for whom she wrote movie reviews (duh). Siskel and Ebert were huge influences, and she regularly read the Contra Costa Times' A&E section. When her family would go off on camping/hunting trips and leave Sonia behind because she wasn't into that kinda thing, she'd take the $20 they left her and go rent movies at her local indie video store. She'd browse the aisles and read the backs of every tape. She credits this with why she has so much useless knowledge around movies in her brain all these years later. After she graduated from high school, Sonia got a job at the local movie theater. And at that job, she started making friends with other movie nerds. Because her coworkers were new in her life and not privy to the BS she put up with in middle and high school, she could start fresh with them. And she was getting attention … from boys. Some of the folks she met at that theater job and another that followed have remained lifelong friends, in fact. Sonia was really finding herself as a young adult. We wrap up Part 1 with her decision to stay close to home and go to community college, vs. moving away and going to a four-year school. Check back tomorrow for Part 2. We recorded this episode at Rosamunde in The Mission in January 2026. Photography by Jeff Hunt

Mike sits down with Bobby Rusnak from Dickey's BBQ Pit to discuss their menu and history. Later he talks with Jeff Hunt from the Jeff and Bill Morning Show!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Toshio Meronek's parents met at a bar. In this episode, meet and get to know Toshio. Today, they do Sad Francisco, a really fucking amazing project that reports on and holds truth to power around here. I first became aware of Sad Francisco a few years ago and right away, I was struck by the deep reporting on and understanding of the many complex relationships and goings on in San Francisco and The Bay. And so I sat down with my fellow podcaster to get to know the human behind those efforts. Toshio's story starts with their parents. That bar where they met was in Los Angeles. Shortly after meeting, the couple moved to Germany, where Toshio's dad had found work at a major German tech company. But after getting pregnant with Toshio, the young couple came back to Southern California—Orange County to be exact, where Toshio was born. Some of Toshio's earliest memories involve not really digging that infamous SoCal heat. We'll get into this more later in Part 1, but Toshio picked Portland for college in part because of its more temperate, albeit wetter, climate. Born in 1982, Toshio did most of their growing up in the Nineties. When I ask them what kinds of things they were into as a kid, they immediately say, "zines." Making zines, collecting zines, living and breathing zines. We hop on a short sidebar about Riot Grrrl, a Nineties feminist punk-adjacent movement that seeped into both our lives at different points—mine early in the decade, and Toshio's toward the end of the Nineties. Riot Grrrl arrived in the typically and generally conservative Orange County later than a lot of other parts of the country and the world. But arrive it did, and it had an outsize impact on Toshio's young life. Zines were huge in that subculture, too. To expound on their interests as a kid, Toshio was generally into media, curious about how others live, and also sci-fi and fantasy (think D&D). Toshio was around 13 or 14 when they started writing their own zines. Here we go on a sidebar about one of my favorite pet topics—Kinko's (RIP). IYKYK. Eventually, Toshio eschewed the ubiquitous copy+print shop and had their zines printed on newsprint paper. It was part of a deliberate attempt to appear legitimate, more like "the establishment," something I find fascinating. They wanted people to take them seriously, and that just makes a lot of damn sense. Music was very much a part of the Riot Grrrl movement Punk rock music to be specific. And Toshio's early publications covered that. In fact, topics ran the gamut from music and politics to culture and community. We turn to the topic of Toshio's surroundings when they were a teenager. Record stores, zine shops, cafes that also had live music. They dabbled in the SoCal rave scene as well. They settled into the Candy Kids rave subculture and talk a little about that. There's another short sidebar where we talk about how amazing youth activism is, and how much we always need it. As much as young Toshio was part of these communities and subcultures, they also describe this time in terms of being a loner. They also experienced a lack of self-confidence, lots of acne, therapy to work through their being Japanese and white, or hafu (another term for "hapa"), being gay. Though Toshio has grown past those struggles, they consider them powerfully formative. Then came time to relocate and go to college. Besides Portland having more desirable weather, Toshio chose it in part because of the Northwest's grunge legacy. College life started right around 9/11, and they started going to protests. Lots of protests. College lasted four years, and after that, Toshio stayed behind in Portland. They got work at a magazine covering ecology for K–12 kids. They were also in bands (they play guitar, ish, sing, and play tambourine). "It felt like everybody was in an alt-country band," they say. And then, in 2006, they left Portland for … San Francisco. An editing job brought Toshio here. The publication was a so-called "light-green living" outfit, targeted, as it said, to yoga moms who drive their hybrid SUVs to Whole Foods. I ask Toshio if the job was editing words, and then mention that it's been my profession for a long-ass time. And we go on a sidebar about how important the work is. I'll add that everyone (including editors!) needs an editor. Sorry (not sorry), AI. That leads to yet another sidebar (can you tell we're both podcasters?)—this one from Toshio about the nature of the "yoga mom" publication. They grew disillusioned with their work there, suffice to say. We end Part 1 with Toshio's early memories of visiting San Francisco, before they moved here. They involve the older men who used to be found daily playing chess off Powell and Market. Check back Thursday for Part 2 with Toshio Meronek. We recorded this episode at Toshio's home at the confluence of The Transgender District, Tenderloin, UN Plaza, and Civic Center in January 2026. Photography by Jeff Hunt

On today's program: Sarah Holliday, Reporter for the Washington Stand, reports on the impending partial government shutdown and the recovery of 3,364 unaccompanied migrant children in Minnesota. Bob Onder, U.S. Representative for Missouri's 3rd

Jeff Hunt joins the show and we rank our top 10 Super Bowl Moments.

In Part 2, we pick up where we left off in Part 1. The "bootcamp" post-college and early career experience Hollis had at Creative Circus was interesting—she found herself seemingly taking it more seriously than many who'd come right out of a four-year program. She also balanced getting engaged and married in this time. Every year, Hollis's grad school organized portfolio reviews with advertising agencies in either New York or San Francisco. Luckily for all of us, the year it was her turn, Creative Circus took students to The City. Once here, they met folks from big firms, including one that offered her an internship. It was Hollis's first visit to San Francisco. And on that first time, I have to give her credit here—she went to North Beach, had drinks at Gino and Carlo's and pizza next door at Golden Boy. I may or may not have spent New Year's Day in a similar way last week. Just sayin'. Hollis's takeaway from that first impression? "This is a really beautiful town." We go on another sidebar at this point about the very San Francisco phenomenon of the sun blinding us (I call it "lasers"), probably because of the hills here, right? It was 2016. Her husband was working back in Georgia, but she called him up and told about the internship offer, which would last three months. He was in a meeting back East where he learned that his company's West Coast salesperson was about to quit, and he was tapped to take over. The Universe, again, spoke. The newlywed couple packed up their four-runner and headed west with their stuff and their dog. Ahead of the drive, which would end in her husband's first visit to SF, Greg's grandma told him he had an aunt in The Bay, in Walnut Creek. Aunt Suzy's house was their landing spot, from which they'd take BART into The City to look for a place of their own. Hollis had a friend from college who keyed her in on the Inner Richmond as a potential place to live. We go on yet another sidebar, this one about how Hollis grows actual vegetables at her Inner Richmond home. They found a studio on Seventh Avenue and Lake Street and moved in with their dog, Mamut. A couple years later, they moved on up to a one bedroom, where they live to this day. Hollis's internship got extended six months, which was fortunate. Her husband's job paid a Georgia salary. IYKYK. That internship became a job, and so they were able to stay, something the couple wanted to do. Her husband got a job based here, and it all worked out. I try my hardest to forget what chronology is and jump ahead, but Hollis brings us back to pre-pandemic times. Her design job was corporate-y, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. She got an animation put up in Times Square in this era. Still, owing to the buttoned-up, corporate nature of the job, she was burning out. The Creative Circus invited her back to talk to students. But yet again, Hollis ended up one-on-one with a recruiter from REI. She respected the company and gave in. A trip to Seattle, to REI HQ, later, the company offered Hollis a job on their brand team. She wasn't thrilled to be leaving her adopted home in San Francisco, but it was a good opportunity. It was January 2020. Fast-forward to March that year, and the movers were ready. Jobs were quit. Hollis and Greg had just returned to SF from a backpacking trip when REI told them that the movers were not coming, and that her job would start remotely a couple weeks out. Do y'all remember March 2020? How the lockdown was supposed to last "only" until April 1 (dude)? Yeah, so REI told Hollis that her job would be a little different than what they hired her to do. And then they told her, "Psych! JK. No job for you." (I'm paraphrasing.) Hollis did what any sane San Franciscan would do. She drove to Baker Beach, screamed at the Pacific Ocean, and came home and made a plan. She'd had a going-away party already, for fuck's sake. It was brutal. The world was upside-down. And it all turned out to be the kick in the pants she needed. Hollis started her own company. We then go into the story of the open call for art to adorn San Francisco's "I voted" stickers. The contest had come across her radar, and she filed it away for later. Then a relative sent it to her along with the suggestion that she give it a try. It turns out there were more than 600 applicants (in her estimation). The SF Department of Elections had a panel that narrowed that down to 10. And then it went to The People to decide. I remember all of this vividly. Needless to say, Hollis's design won. Hollis is also integral to the Clement Street Art Walk, which she runs with Fleetwood's Nico. The next one will be on March 19. Fall this year will see the next Clement Street Art Fair. As of our recording, she didn't have any art shows, but please browse Hollis's website of beautiful work and buy some (and sign up for her newsletter). Follow Hollis on Instagram. Or just walk down Clement Street on any given day and chances are high you'll see her. (I learned as we shot photos after our recording that Hollis designed the newly painted intersection crosswalk lines at Sixth and Clement.) We end the episode rather uniquely, for this show anyway. Hollis asks me if I have a favorite flower. You'll have to listen to find out. (#dahliatalk) Photography by Jeff Hunt

We're baaaaaaack! Happy New Year, y'all! In this first episode of 2026, meet and get to know San Francisco artist Hollis Callas. Hollis first came across my radar a few years ago when she won a contest to design our city's new "I voted" stickers. I soon learned that she's something of an artistic fixture in one of my adopted neighborhoods—The Inner Richmond. So I sat down with her one afternoon in November to learn more about her life. In Part 1, Hollis, an artist, illustrator, and designer, begins sharing her life story, which started in Atlanta. She grew up in the same Georgia house where her dad was also raised. Her grandpa lived there when Hollis was young, and her parents still live in the house today. Both of Hollis's parents are creatives. Her mom studied fabric design and textiles and weaves quilts these days. Her dad is a carpenter and "builds everything." Along with her crafty dad, Hollis often found herself making big changes in her house when she was little. Her parents met when they were both at the University of Georgia, in Athens. When the two moved in together, Hollis's mom was friends with members of the B-52s. That now well-known band played one of its early shows at her parents house, in fact. Hollis met the band when she was a kid, but doesn't really remember it. After they each graduated college, Hollis's parents moved back to Atlanta to that ancestral home we talked about earlier to take care of her dad's dad, who had fallen ill. First, her older sister was born. And then, in 1987, along came baby Hollis. Life in Atlanta in the Nineties for Hollis meant lots of time outdoors. There's an acre of land with the house she grew up in, space for lots of trees and a bird sanctuary. It was still a time of latch-key kids, and she was definitely one. Hollis roamed her parents' land, wading in creeks and running through the forest. Her parents eventually got a second home up in the Blue Ridge Mountains where she also spent a lot of time. Hollis went to public school the whole way. Her mom went back to school to become an elementary school librarian, and her dad taught at her high school what we used to call woodshop and coached the boys cross-country team (Hollis was part of the girls team). Kids at her high school loved Coach Griffith, she says. Art didn't necessarily "enter" Hollis' life. It was always just there. She answered that dreaded question some adults ask kids of "what do you wanna be when you grow up?" with "an artist or a vet." But then she stared getting good grades in art and didn't do so well in math. The Universe spoke, and Hollis listened. Sports remained a big part of Hollis's life up to and through college, where she played intramural soccer. There was an art school in a small North Carolina town she'd had her eye on, but she ended up getting a scholarship to stay in-state, and landed at UGA in Athens, where she studied art. UGA is one of those intense Greek life schools (I relate, having gone to UT Austin), and Hollis found out quickly that it wasn't for her. She found her art school homies right away. At this point in the recording, Hollis and I go on a sidebar about recurring end-of-semester nightmares. Hollis graduated from UGA with two degrees—ceramics and art education. She student taught one year and got out in five total. After that, she and her boyfriend (now husband) applied for teaching jobs in Spain. They heard back almost a year later, and found themselves living in Zamora and staying for two years. We chat about her time in Spain. They had such a good time the first year and got really embedded, making friends, working, learning Spanish, and joining a bicycling group that they decided to double-up and stay one more year. At the end of that run, though, pressures started to mount for them to return to the US. They came back to Atlanta and Hollis got a job teaching ceramics at a high school. Not even 30 yet herself, she found it difficult to lead a group of kids who weren't that much younger than she was. And they were going through their own hard times. After one year teaching, when colleges came to recruit the teenagers, The Creative Circus ended up picking Hollis. It was a two-year "bootcamp" type of learning environment, geared toward careers in advertising. But before her two years were up, Hollis got a job in San Francisco. Check back Thursday for Part 2 with artist Hollis Callas. We recorded this podcast at Hollis's studio inside of Chloe Jackman Photography in The Inner Richmond in November 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt

Jeff Hunt joins the show again to discuss Miami disappointing loss and much more. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

Tens of thousands of Coloradans have protested at anti-Trump rallies this year, and while most of these gatherings have been peaceful, political violence has been on the rise. KNUS conservative radio host Jeff Hunt attended many of these demonstrations throughout 2025, where he recorded self-described “gotcha”-style videos. At an anti-ICE protest in June, he was kicked in the back while recording, on a day that also saw the arrests of 18 protesters. Host Bree Davies spoke with Jeff about his experience, how he approaches political debates, and the question of violence and safety in Denver. On the other side of a tumultuous year, we're bringing back this conversation for a closer look at how national political tensions have played out in the Mile High. You can find a rough transcript of this conversation here. Check out Jeff Hunt's protest videos for yourself: Here's the one from the conservative “March for Life” This one is from the Bernie/AOC rally in March This is the one he referenced featuring protesters warning others not to talk to him And here's the one where he gets kicked  Text or leave us a voicemail with your name and neighborhood, and you might hear it on the show: (720) 500-5418 For even more news from around the city, subscribe to our morning newsletter Hey Denver at denver.citycast.fm. Follow us on Instagram: @citycastdenver Chat with other listeners on reddit: r/CityCastDenver Support City Cast Denver by becoming a member: membership.citycast.fm Learn more about the sponsors of this December 30th episode: ⁠Simply Eloped⁠ ⁠Cozy Earth⁠ - Use code COZYDENVER for up to 20% off Looking to advertise on City Cast Denver? Check out our options for podcast and newsletter ads at citycast.fm/advertise

Jeff Hunt joins the show to catch up on the past couple of weeks while also giving insight on the upcoming CFP Quarterfinal matchups. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

Jeff Hunt joins the show. We discuss and break down the movie Die Hard. We have a conversation of whether or not it is a Christmas Movie

Listen in as my friend Vandor Hill and I wrap up his second year of Whack Donuts' brick-and-mortar location. This is Vandor's third appearance on Storied: SF. Here are the other two episode's we've done with him: Vandor Hill of Whack Donuts Whack Donuts' First Anniversary We recorded this podcast at Whack Donuts in Embarcadero 4 in December 2025. Photo by Jeff Hunt

When you tell friends you're going to see a movie at The Roxie, there's an almost palpable envy that sets in for them. In this episode, meet Lex Sloan and Henry S. Rosenthal. Lex is The Roxie's executive director and Henry is on its Board of Directors and the chair of the theater's capital campaign, which we'll get to. In the meantime, if you'd like to help keep a bona fide San Francisco landmark in its rightful home until the end of time (they'd sure love you to, and so would I), donate to the Forever Roxie fund here. We start with Henry, who lets us know that the "S" in his name stands for Sigmund. Henry was born in Cincinnati and had what he describes as an "idyllic childhood" there. He started going to music shows when he was 13, seeing bands like Iggy and the Stooges and MC5. After graduating from high school, he moved to San Francisco in 1973 to attend school at The New College of California. He was an early subscriber to Rolling Stone magazine, where he had seen a New College ad. That ad captivated young Henry's imagination. He visited the campus, which was in Sausalito at the time, after a road trip from Ohio to the West Coast. The school tried to get him to enroll right then, but Henry decided to go back home and finish high school first. Henry produced cable TV shows while in college. In a sense, it's what he's been doing ever since. When Henry moved to San Francisco, there were still operating movie palaces on Market. Before really making friends here, he'd spend a lot of time inside those theaters. It was the era of movies like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Enter the Dragon. He says it's difficult to put into words (it is), but San Francisco just grabbed him and never let go. Then we turn to Lex Sloan. Lex went to college in Bellingham, Washington, at the type of school that allows you to design your own degree, which she did. Lex got a bachelor's in "social change media," which is so on the nose, it tickles. Post-graduation, she went to what she calls "the middle of nowhere, Arizona," but that lasted all of seven or eight months. Looking for where to land next and being a spreadsheet nerd (like me), Lex made a list. And lo and behold, San Francisco checked the most boxes. She got a job in Redwood City, not knowing that that Peninsula town wasn't exactly The City. No matter—she landed. The job involved teaching video production at a community center. At first, she stayed in a hostel on Mission Street before finding a place all her own on Craigslist. That was 2005, and Lex hasn't looked back. We go back to Henry to hear the story of how The Roxie drew him in. Perhaps jokingly, he says he laments not visiting when The Roxie was a porn theater. Henry doesn't recall his actual first visit, but says he's been a regular since first learning about the place. He knew Bill Banning, who created Roxie Releases, the organization's distribution operation. (Rivers and Tides, the documentary about artist Andy Goldsworthy, is among their releases.) Banning and he were friends for a while. Their kids went to school together. Their lives kept intertwining, including at film festivals. When The Roxie transitioned to a nonprofit and created a board, folks like Bill invited Henry to join it. He politely refused … until the theater was on firmer ground financially. And once it was, he was in. Henry's goal in joining The Roxie board was singular, he says: To help the organization buy the building where the theater sits. Lex does remember her first time at The Roxie. After she landed in The City, she sought work on local film crews. She found a crew and their film (Getting Off) premiered at The Roxie during Frameline. Because she was "only" a production assistant, she wasn't comped a ticket. Lex remembers showing up and seeing a rather long and daunting line to get in. But! That line was filled with her people. She calls that screening "magical" and "electrifying." Over the years, she came back time and again, for one-off movies as well as for film festivals. When Lex worked for Frameline, one of her jobs was carrying film prints into the projection booth at The Roxie and other theaters. Fast-forward to 10 years or so ago, when Lex became operations director at The Roxie. We then turn to the history of The Roxie, with Lex as our tour guide. The space where the theater sits today was built to be just that—a movie theater. It wasn't converted at any point from something else to become a place where folks watch movies. The folks who run the theater today have discovered and held onto the original blueprints from 1913. Its first name was The Poppy Theater. Then it was The 16th Street. Then The New 16th Street, The Gaiety, The Rex, and finally, in the early 1930s, The Roxie. That oh-so-recognizable marquee came to The Mission from an auto dealership in Oakland aboard a barge that traveled across The Bay. A lot of the history of The Roxie before the Seventies is not well-known. But, after becoming The Roxie, it was first a German-language cinema (concessions at the time were German candies). Thanks to some projectionist's notes they've found, they know that in the Fifties, it became a variety space of sorts. In the late Sixties/early Seventies, it was an XXX theater, as mentioned in Henry's story earlier. In those days, a turnstile out front kept underage folks and those who didn't pay out (or did it?). In 1976 or '77, a group of local artists took over. That group changed a lot of things. It became more of an arthouse cinema, as it remains to this day. The folks who ran the place put people before profits. Midnight movies became a thing The Roxie was known for. Check back Thursday for Part 2 with Lex and Henry. We recorded this podcast at The Roxie in The Mission in October 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt

Jeff Hunt joins Coach Mo in discussing their initial thoughts and reactions on the 12 team playoff bracket. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

Jeff Hunt joins the show to discuss Ohio State defeating Michigan, Does Texas deserve a playoff spot & much more This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

Happy Thanksgiving!! Jeff Hunt joins the show, we rank and breakdown our top 10 Thanksgiving Day NFL games.

Jeff Hunt joins the show to discuss the upcoming rivalry week in college football. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

The story of Saikat Chakrabarti begins in a time when his parents' and ancestors' country was being torn apart, almost literally. In this episode, meet and get to know Saikat. These days, he's busy knocking on doors and otherwise hitting the ground in a bid to represent San Francisco in the US Congress. As I write this, just last week, Speaker Emerita Nancy Pelosi announced that she would not run for a 20th term. Timing! Let's go back to mid-Nineteenth Century India. Because his dad's family is Hindu, they were forced to relocate after Indian/Pakistani partition, fleeing their home country of Bangladesh for Kolkata (Calcutta) in India. Folks had warned Saikat's grandfather, a school teacher, to leave, and they did. Once in Kolkata, his grandfather opened a school largely for the kids of other refugees living in the area. Owing to the school's success, he was able to secure a one-bedroom apartment for his family of 12—he, his wife (Saikat's grandmother), and 10 kids, including Saikat's father. Saikat has been back to that apartment. He says that, walking around that neighborhood all these years later, folks still recognize his dad thanks to what his grandfather did for them and their family. His mom had it better than his dad. But still, she went to a school with dirt floors. Saikat looks to his ancestors' struggles—the communities they were part of, and how those communities came together to address issues the government neglected—for inspiration today. When his dad was young, a friend took him to an office where he was pitched to come to the United States. There was a whole set-up. The sell was simply the so-called American Dream. Saikat's parents met in India through an arrangement. Their respective parents knew someone who set it all up. They met and got married about a week later in a field. The visa his dad had applied for at that office came through after he'd been married, making it a bigger decision than it would've been if he were still single. He was also the primary earner in his own family, and they didn't want him to leave. He decided to take that leap regardless. His dad showed up in the US with $8 in his pocket and no job yet secured. He slept on a friends' couch in Manhattan and hit the pavement, résumé in hand. And it worked. He got a job. Saikat's dad had studied civil engineering in college. His first job in his new country was with a company that built skyscrapers … NYC skyscrapers. It was 1979. Saikat's mom came to join her husband soon after, and they had their first kid, Saikat's older sister, while living in Queens. His dad and his mom also experienced their first cold-weather winter that year. After a stint in New York, Samir moved his family to Pittsburgh. He had visited there in the summer, liked it, got a job offer, but relocated in the winter. Once again, the weather got the better of the young family. Seeking a warmer climate, they moved to Texas, first to Houston, and then to Fort Worth. At this point in the podcast, I decided to do something I've never done in the eight years since Storied: San Francisco began. And that's because I've never had any guests on the show who are from where I'm from. I chose to dork out with Saikat about my hometown. Thank you for indulging us (me, really). The first question I had for Saikat is: What hospital were you born in? Harris Methodist. Holy shit, same! He asked me my age (52), what schools I went to (Bruce Shulkey Elementary, Wedgwood Middle School [Saikat went there for one year], and Southwest High School). What a fun turn on this podcast, me rattling off the schools I went to like born-and-raised San Franciscans do. Heh. I digress into a sidebar about the race riot that happened at my high school during my junior year. You'll have to listen, or you can read a little more about it here. Then we get to hear about Saikat's experience growing up in the same city. His family lived in a suburb (apparently not far from where my parents still live), and he describes his early life as fairly standard—hanging out with friends, going to the mall (the same mall I was a regular at a decade or so before). But, being an Indian-American, Saikat experienced racism I was privileged enough to avoid. Saikat makes a distinction, though, between intentional, malicious racism and what I'd call accidental or unintentional racism. It's an important distinction, and he says most of what he experienced in Fort Worth was the less-harmful variety. He summarizes his childhood thusly—family, school, the Bengali-American community in Fort Worth. One member of that community, Saikat's best friend from childhood, lives downstairs from him in San Francisco today. His whole world in high school was, as Saikat puts it: hip-hop, basketball, and math. He got into Harvard, which he says he didn't expect. Many of his friends went to UT Austin (my alma mater), and he figured he'd go there, too. But he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to attend one of the most highly regarded universities in the country. But Harvard was a culture shock for Saikat. The Fort Worth community he'd known all his life was working- and middle-class. The student body at Harvard was largely kids who came from money and had wildly different interests than he did. Saikat went into his shell his freshman year. As he emerged from that shell, he found his people at Harvard. In 2007, Saikat graduated from Harvard with a degree in computer science. He'd spent a summer in San Francisco between his junior and senior years, and loved it. All his life, The City had been presented as this place where "cool shit happened." Movies, music, TV shows, skateboarding, the LGBTQIA and civil rights movements … and of course, the fledgling internet. Tech and social justice—both existed in a cutting-edge environment here. He lived in New York City for one year immediately after he graduated. We riff on life in NYC vs. life here, agreeing on most aspects. When it was time for Saikat to find a new place to live, San Francisco was the obvious choice. The woman he was dating (his wife and mother of his child today) went to school at Cornell in Ithaca, New York, where he visited often. But even her friends told Saikat that he was much more a NorCal-type. Unable to find housing anywhere else in SF, Saikat first landed in Park Merced. He was happy to have a San Francisco address, but didn't feel like he was living in The City. A trip to The Mission changed that quickly. Check back Thursday for Part 2 with Saikat. We recorded this podcast at Duboce Park Cafe in October 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt

Jeff Hunt joins the show again to discuss the week 10 action from the 2025-26 college football season. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

Listen in as I chat with Tommy Leyva, who has been decorating the fuck out of his home on Divisadero for nearly 20 years. Whether you're able to drop by, now or until a few days after Halloween, check out the video below the photos on this page. Follow Tommy and the Divisadero Halloween House on Instagram @divisaderohalloweenhouse. We recorded this podcast at the Divisadero Halloween House in October 2025. Photos and video by Jeff Hunt

Jeff Hunt back once again to recap all the action from week 8 of the college football season. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

In Part 2, we pick up where we left off in Part 1. It was 2010, and seeing that guy with the broken guitar on Risa's next visit to SF was the nail in the coffin, so to speak. She was moving here. One of her friends who already lived here found a spot in The Sunset for her. She packed up a car and drove north with her dad. She didn't necessarily have a plan back then, but Risa and I share how The City just got both of us and hasn't let go. Risa tells the story of how her parents moved to Japan briefly when she was 18. She asked her mom, “So, why did you come back (to California)?” And her mom told her (paraphrasing), “Because you wouldn't be able to do what you're doing there, you wouldn't have the same opportunities.” It further affirmed for Risa her decision to move to San Francisco and pursue art. I ask Risa to catch us up on the last 15 years of her life. Generally speaking, she's been working to find her voice as an artist. She got into letterpress-printing, which she did for more than 10 years. She started a company with a friend and worked there for three years before branching out on her own. Doing so wasn't easy, but in hindsight, it made Risa stronger. She talks about a specific strain of misogyny that presented itself to women printmakers as well as how Risa handled that nonsense. That solo venture started off as a stationery company. She reached back to childhood memories, of a time when she witnessed letters coming to her mom from Japan as well her mom's messages back to her homeland. Risa saw those as lifelines to her mom's people back home, and wanted to preserve those memories and emotions and help others to do the same. Papallama was born. Before we talk about another fun thing Risa is up to, I need to express my newish-found love for 540 Bar on Clement. It's where Risa holds monthly “Drink and Draw” events, and it's quickly become one of my new favorite spots in The City. Risa started her monthly art events at the bar in 2022. The idea came from her letterpress days, when she'd do frequent “Letter-Writing Saturdays.” She told her friend Leejay, one of 540's owners, about it, and they decided to bring that same idea to the bar. Shortly after they hatched the plan, though, Risa's dad passed away. The first drink and draw was a month later, and so many of Risa's friends turned out for her. What started out as every second Thursday of the month now takes place at 540 Bar on the third Thursdays of every month. Risa speaks in a little more detail of the care and intention she puts into her Drink and Draw events. For me, it's an extension of her art as well as her love of community. But it's also just her being a good host. The next Drink and Draw takes place the same day that this podcast drops—October 16, 2025. See ya there! The conversation shifts to Risa talking about taking part in our Every Kinda People show at Mini Bar. And we end the podcast with Risa sharing all the ways to find her, both online and in real life. Follow her on Instagram @risa_iwasaki_culbertson. Her website is risaculbertson.com. Photography by Jeff Hunt

Risa Iwasaki Culbertson was born in Japan. In this episode, meet and get to know Risa, one of the 12 artists in Every Kinda People, our group show at Mini Bar. Please join us this Sunday, Oct. 19, from 4–7 p.m. at Mini Bar for our Closing Party happy hour. Some of the artists will be on hand, as will friendly bartenders and me (Jeff). Back to Risa, though. Her mom is Japanese and her dad is from Ventura County in Southern California. Risa spent her first five or six years in Japan before her parents moved to California. She has memories of life in Japan before they moved. And after the move, Risa often went back to visit her grandmother. Risa says that, as a kid, she loved going back and forth between two very different cultures Her dad was in the military, which is what brought him to Japan, where he met his wife. Risa is their only child, something she and I go on a bit of a sidebar about. I'm not an only child, but I've met and befriended my fair share of well-adjusted only children. Hell, I married one. Risa found creativity early, and ran with it. Her parents were older, and being half-American, half-Japanese, she didn't feel like she fully belonged in either culture. Risa might've gotten her creativity from her mom, who did pottery, quilting, and other artistic things. Her dad was “a mad scientist of sorts,” she says. He was into taking things apart and repurposing found objects. In Southern California, Risa spent time with other Hapa kids. Her mom was part of a large Japanese community, and there were plenty of mixed-race kids among that group. She's very much a product of the Eighties and Nineties and Southern California. She remembers the beginning of grunge and flannels. Risa remembers vividly when Kurt Cobain died (1994). Middle school for her happened in Orange County. Risa did hula dancing and tap dancing for many years, always while also painting and drawing. In high school, her art teacher was switched out and replaced with a nun who told the kids they couldn't use black inks. It felt to young Risa like too religious of a message, and it instilled in her an attitude of not wanting anyone to tell her what she can and cannot do with her art. She never took another art class. She was also something of a social butterfly in her high school years. Risa had different friend groups and in hindsight, feels like they were constantly getting together and doing things. Then we turn to what got Risa out of Southern California. One friend she met in college moved back to San Francisco, and another friend from down south wanted to move here. She visited The City and remembers sitting in a cafe talking to strangers. She felt then and there that the friendliness was right for her, and something she wasn't getting in Orange County. I share a quick story of being in Orange County and getting phone directions to a bar. Unbeknownst to me and my friends that night, the map put us on a highway … on foot. Yep. We rewind a little to chat about Risa's time in college. She always wanted to be at least art-adjacent, and so she took classes on manufacturing and even calculus. Thing is, she ended up liking calculus. Earlier in life, she sold stuff she made through catalogs she also created. That early entrepreneurship informed some business classes she later took in college, including business law. It all lead to Risa's getting a business degree. Right away, she started recognizing a disconnect between art and business. Back to her first impression of San Francisco, that day in that Haight Street cafe made The City feel like a place where she could get to know people. Risa shares a story that happened right before her move here. It involves a man boarding a BART train she and her friends were on. He had a broken guitar. They'd made googly eyes at each other, but she and her friends were too scared to talk with him. When he got off the train, he looked back and waved. Risa figured she'd never see this guy again. Three months later, she was back to visit her friend who lived here. She'd thought about him, but figured there was no way to actually find him. Then, as you can guess, it happened. Risa says she's still friends with that guy to this day. Check back Thursday for Part 2 with Risa, which includes the story of her move to San Francisco. We recorded this podcast at Risa's studio in the Inner Richmond in August 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt

Jeff Hunt is back to discuss all the Week 7 chaos in college football. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

Listen in as I chat with Broke-Ass Stuart about, well, a lot of stuff. But we also talk about Stuart's new book, The Worst of Broke-Ass Stuart: 20 Years of Love, Death, and Dive Bars. The book is available at your favorite local indie bookstore and also at Bookshop.org. And get very affordable tickets for next Friday's (Oct. 17, 2025) book-launch party at Kilowatt here. We recorded this podcast at Emperor Norton's Boozeland in September 2025. Photos of Stuart by Jeff Hunt

Jeff Hunt joins the show to recap Week 6 of the college football season This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

Jeff Hunt our own On Call Co-Host joins the show to recap Ohio State victory against Washington and a short preview into Week ^ This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

In this episode of Champ Talk, host Branden Hudson welcomes Jordan Geyer, owner of SoDel Jiu-Jitsu, often regarded as having one of the toughest Jiu-Jitsu rooms on the Eastern Shore. The discussion covers the importance of community, the challenges of starting and managing a gym, and the evolution of Jiu-Jitsu. Jordan shares his journey from a student under Jeff Hunt and Ken Mola in Wilmington to owning his own gym in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. He emphasizes the significance of small beginnings, consistent quality, passionate teaching, and the benefits of diversifying training approaches. The episode provides valuable insights for anyone in or looking to join the Jiu-Jitsu community.00:00 Introduction and Call to Action00:43 Introducing the Guest: Jordan Geyer01:17 Discussing Gym Culture and Training Philosophy03:42 Jordan's Journey in Jiujitsu07:39 Starting and Growing a Jiujitsu Gym13:40 Challenges and Successes in Gym Ownership17:39 Evolution of Jiujitsu and Training Methods20:18 Philosophies on Jiujitsu and Self-Defense25:49 The Fragile Egos of Black Belts26:16 The Billionaire Black Belt Controversy26:51 The Reality of Social Media Influence27:43 Starting a Gym: Passion vs. Skill29:25 Advice for New Gym Owners33:42 The Importance of Kids' Programs35:30 Balancing Passion and Business38:48 Defining Success in Jiu-Jitsu43:53 Future Plans and Final Thoughts

Lisa Davidson is an ironworker with Local 377 San Francisco. Her team currently does ironwork on the Golden Gate Bridge. But we'll get to that. In this episode, S8 E3, meet and get to know Lisa. I first did that back in May at our Keep It Local art show at Babylon Burning (thanks, Mike and Judy!). Someone at the party that night approached me to let me know that there was a person there who works on the best bridge in the world (fact) and that I should meet them. I love when people really get me. Right away, I was drawn in by Lisa's warmth, charm, and sense of humor. And so we sat down outside in Fort Mason in early August and Lisa shared her life story. She was raised feeling like she had complete freedom. It was something Lisa didn't realize at the time, but looking back, it became clear to her. She was raised in Framingham, Massachusetts, just outside of Boston, in a liberal household. Her grandparents lived in Boston itself, and she loved visiting them when she was a kid. Her grandfather ran a tchotchke store in town called House of Hurwitz, and Lisa says that the place had a big influence on her outlook. It was located on the edge of what they call, to this day, the “Combat Zone” (think: red-light district). Her “wheelin' and dealin'” grandpa sold mylar balloons to the Boston Gardens for events held there. He told young Lisa that she could blow up balloons and that that could be her future. Lisa has a brother four years younger than she is. Her dad was an electrician. One of his clients was a lithograph press in Boston. He'd sometimes get paged for a job and have to leave his family, although Lisa now wonders whether he just wanted to get away from time to time. When she was a senior in high school, her parents divorced, despite being a very loving couple up to that point. She says her mom was “crazy in an I Love Lucy way. She was raised in the Fifties the way many young women at that time were, in a way that did its best to stifle any creativity. Suffice to say that her mom had fun decorating the house Lisa grew up in. Despite her and her family's Jewishness, Lisa revolted and wanted to go to Catholic school or just become a preppy L.L. Bean-type kid. She of course regrets rejecting the norms of her family nowadays. It was what it was. The family was more culturally Jewish than religious, though, something Lisa says was a huge influence on who she's become as an adult. She graduated high school and went to college at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. It wasn't Ivy League, but it was (and is) something of a preppy school. Where Lisa grew up, there was an expectation that kids would go to college, and so she went. It wasn't super far from home, but it wasn't close either. Her parents did suggest that Lisa maybe go to art school. But in her family, it was the kid dismissing that idea. “That's a not real school,” young Lisa told them. She liked sports. At Amherst, she joined the crew team. She liked the competition and how good of shape it got you in. She liked it, but it was a lot of pressure. She graduated, took a year off working odd jobs, then dove into art school. So next up was Rhode Island School of Design (RISD). She was surprised she got in, and even navigated a bit of impostor syndrome. Surprised by the school's acceptance of her and feeling somewhat intimidated by other artist students, Lisa ended up doing printmaking. Rather than aiming for a master's degree, she sought a second bachelor's. Her studies had her spending a lot of time in the school's foundry, where she discovered welding. She loved it. During her time back in Amherst, she'd heard of a guy who was going to Alaska. (Lisa and I go off-topic into our shared distaste for camping at this point in the conversation.) Back to the Alaska story, her mom was fully supportive and even took her shopping at an Army Navy store. She went there and worked in canneries through the summer between her junior and senior years at Amherst. While she was up north, doing jobs all over the state, she met folks from California. From the stories they told her, it became a place she wanted to go. But first, RISD. In Rhode Island, she met a guy from Danville in the East Bay. When his family learned of her interest in our state, they invited Lisa to spend a summer with them, which she did. And she and her friend came to The City as often as they could. After those few months, she knew that California—and specifically, The Bay—was for her. She needed to go back and finish that second round of college in Rhode Island, and she did. After that, Lisa “beelined it” back to Oakland. She found work in a prop shop making sculptures out of foam with a chainsaw. Check back this Thursday for Part 2 with Lisa Davidson. We recorded this podcast at Equator Coffee in Fort Mason in August 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt

When treating a child for their mental health, the first course of treatment is therapy. But sometimes, therapy alone is not enough. This podcast explains how to know when medications for kids might be necessary, and how to talk to your doctor about it.  Learn more about Jeff Hunt, MD

Mike is on the Dan Caplis Text Line now and it's blowing up!!! Mike is joined by Jeff Hunt and Listener Denis White with an inside look at Charlie Kirk's Memorial! Stay Informed!! www.mikeboyle.com See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Mike talks with Jeff Hunt and Denis White about attending the Charlie Kirk Memorial Service. He also talk with Bobby from Dickey's BBQ on this hour of The Restaurant Show!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Coach Mo is joined by Jeff Hunt of Jeff Needs Sports to breakdown the previous weekend in college football. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thecoachmomurphypodcast.substack.com

Mike has special guest caller Jeff Hunt to talk about inspiring people and callers chime in as well! Stay Informed!!! www.mikeboyle.com See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Part 2 picks up where we left off in Part 1. Marga had just arrived in San Francisco and lived in a collective house with a lesbian and two gay men ("of course, the decorations were fabulous"). It was a bit of a party house, known for throwing spectacular Halloween fests. Marga talks about collective living, chore charts and stuff like that. Eventually, the woman Marga drove across country with split from her, as so often happens (I certainly relate). Everyone who lived in that first house, she says, was into rolfing and coffee enemas. Marga wasn't too keen on any of it. The meals were vegetarian and bland, and perhaps most importantly for her, not Cuban. Her roommates gave painful hugs and held hands before they ate. It just wasn't her scene. And so she found work in a Hippie coffeehouse called Acme Cafe on 24th Street. All her coworkers there were performers. She was just happy to make omelettes. Underground celebrities like R. Crumb and John Waters came in regularly, and Marga loved it. Her fellow cafe employees, many of whom were artists, would ask her, “So, what do you do?” And she would answer, “I make omelettes.” She also worked at a bath house on Market called Finilla's Finnish Baths. Marga's job there was to hand out towels to spa-goers. She later learned that the owner sexually abused and exploited workers there, mostly the masseuses. A perk of her job, though, was access to the steam sauna, and Marga took advantage of that as much as she could. That sauna room also served as a meeting space for a group of older women. One of them, an older Mexican woman, would leave her Chihuahua in the lobby while she steamed, the idea being that Marga would take care of the dog. Eventually, Ms. Montoya got 86'd from the bathhouse for steaming flour tortillas in the sauna on the hot stones. Another regular, a famous singer whom Marga won't name, was kicked out for a different reason. Marga takes a sidebar to explain what a “primal scream” is. Then she takes us back to the sauna and the famous singer, who proceeded one day to launch into her own primal scream. Marga describes other women from the sauna running out frantically. Meanwhile, she says, over in the men's sauna, “there was a different kind of screaming.” She goes on another sidebar about the time she got crabs at the bathhouse. You just have to listen to that one. Marga also had a job as a gardener at a house in Pac Heights, despite not loving that kind of work. She shares a story of using the “servant's bathroom” on that job and discovering that she had crabs. Then the conversation shifts to Marga's next show—Spanish Stew. It will be her 15th one-person show, which she began developing at The Marsh here in The City, where she did her first-ever one-person show back in the day. The New Conservatory Theater Center commissioned the show, which is set in 1976 San Francisco, the year that Marga landed here. It's also about cooking, something near and dear to her heart. Marga points out that the New Conservatory Theater Center recently lost its NEA funding thanks to the fascist US regime, but that the community is helping keep the theater afloat. Please go see this show. I know I will. It opens October 17, 2025. For more info and to buy tickets, please visit Marga's website. Follow her on Instagram @themargagomez to keep up with everything she does and says. This episode is brought to you by Standard Deviant Brewing. We recorded this podcast at Noe Cafe in Noe Valley in August 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt  

Marga Gomez grew up in Washington Heights, New York City, immersed in a family of Spanish-language entertainers. Welcome to Season 8, Episode 1 of Storied: San Francisco. I first learned of Marga more than a decade ago, through comedy and performance circles I was adjacent to. Because I don't have the world's best memory, I cannot recall exactly where or when I saw her perform, but I do remember feeling an immediate pull to her work. In this episode, Marga shares the story of her parents, growing up in NYC, and coming to San Francisco. We begin in Manhattan, where Marga was born to a comedian/producer/screenwriter Cuban-American dad and a dancer/aspiring actor Puerto Rican mom. Marga went to Catholic school as a youngster, which she says was every bit as harsh as folks say. Looking back, Marga thinks the only discipline she got when she was a kid was through school. Her parents, she says, were narcissists. The two met when Marga's mom danced in a show produced by her dad. The shows were varietal in nature, and took place on stages live at theaters showing Spanish-language Mexican movies. Her dad had danced in shows in Havana pre-Castro. Some white American show producer-types with Johnny Walker, the Scotch company, brought him to New York, unaware that he didn't speak English. It was the Fifties—the height of a Spanish entertainment craze (think Ricky Ricardo). Many folks from Latin America were also immigrating to the US, and New York especially, in those days. And they, too, wanted entertainment. Marga's dad found work in that world, first as a performer, then as a producer. Growing up with locally well-known/borderline famous parents instilled in young Marga a sense that she could do anything she wanted. But when they split up, Marga went with her mom to live in a white neighborhood on Long Island. She was one of the only kids of color in an otherwise homogenous, affluent area. No longer in the Spanish-language community that raised her, she lost that sense of becoming a performer in her own right. She just wanted to graduate high school and get out. And that she did. She ended up at a New York State school on the border of Canada, in Oswego near Lake Ontario. It was still the same weather she used to, but it was time to explore—with pot, acid, and women. She got really into “storyteller” musicians around this time, some women, Dylan, that kind of thing. And she met a woman who later was the reason Marga came to San Francisco. Marga's impression of San Francisco before she moved here was shaped by a magazine feature about the Hippies here at that time—the Seventies. She owes that attraction to her mom's strict parenting style—it was a rebellion in every sense. She'd not made it through to graduation (too much acid, she says), but followed her girlfriend across country to this magical new city. It was 1976, the year of the US Bicentennial. Marga's girlfriend did all the driving (she still doesn't have a license), taking the scenic route along Route 66, through the heart of the United States during its 200th birthday celebration. They saw a lot of Americana—the good and the bad (racism, misogyny, homophobia). It made landing in SF all the more poignant. They came up the California coast, saw Big Sur, then arrived in The City. We end Part 1 with Marga's story of the first place in San Francisco she and her then-girlfriend went—Castro Street. That story is also how her upcoming show, Spanish Stew, begins. More on that in Part 2, which drops this Thursday. That's also the date of the Opening Night of Every Kinda People. We hope to see you at Mini Bar that night for an evening of community, art, drinks, laughter, and love. This episode is brought to you by Standard Deviant Brewing. We recorded it at Noe Cafe in Noe Valley in August 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt

Jeff Hunt joins the podcast and we breakdown QBs 4-1 on my Top 36 QB Countdown.

Jeff Hunt and I breakdown QBs 8-5 on my Top 36 QB Countdown.

Carolyn Sideco's story begins in The Philippines. Her dad, Tony Sideco, was born on the island of Cebu in 1938. Her mom, Linda, was born in Paniqui in 1942. By the time Carolyn's mom was born, the Japanese occupied The Philippines. Young Tony worked for the electric company, which sent him to Paniqui. He soon met his wife-to-be there when he boarded at Carolyn's grandmother's house. It wasn't an overnight romance. The way Tony (who joined his wife in the room with me and Carolyn as we recorded) tells it, he had eyed Linda for so long that he went cross-eyed. Linda was her parents' first daughter, and she came after five older brothers. So she was always afforded chaperones. After Linda, her parents had three more girls. One of those girls, Carolyn's aunt, lives next-door to where we recorded, a tradition of intergenerationality the family carried with them when they migrated to the US. Tony came to the United States first in the late Sixties, shortly after Carolyn and her twin sister were born. His migration was motivated by the so-called “American dream.” Carolyn's version is different, though. She thinks it had more to do with the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, which effectively did away with nationality quotas. By the time Tony arrived, several members of both his and his wife's family were already here, many of them in the Outer Sunset. When baby Carolyn, her sister, and their mom arrived, they first lived on 45th Avenue in The Sunset with her aunt and uncle. Then the family moved to 39th Avenue to be on their own. This was the house that Carolyn grew up in, and the one we recorded this podcast in. A community of Paniquieños already existed all around them. In hindsight, Carolyn thinks it was a lot easier for folks like her parents to move halfway around the world because they landed, in essence, in an expat community. Her mom didn't have to learn English so urgently when she arrived, to cite just one example. Several of those families are still around, spread around the North Peninsula. Some also still live in San Francisco, like Carolyn. Carolyn talks about various aspects of her life that now, in hindsight as an adult, meant she rarely felt different from those around her. She says that in her adult life, meeting folks her parents' age who didn't have the same accent as her parents really opened her eyes. Today, Carolyn is the president of Paniquieñans USA, an organization as old as she is. Then we get back to Carolyn's personal story. Her and her twin, Rosalyn, joined their mom to go to the US when they were two. She shares a cute story of how their mom loved a party so much that she would celebrate their birthday every second day of the month (their birthday is Feb. 2). Because of this, Carolyn grew up thinking that birthdays happen every month. She was five when her family moved out of her uncle and aunt's place on 45th and into their childhood home on 39th Avenue, and Carolyn remembers it well. We talk briefly about the real estate agent who sold them the house and how little they paid (“$24,000,” Tony Sideco, who was in the room with us that day, chimes in—that's the equivalent of roughly $173K today). Linda Sideco found work at Little Sisters of the Poor Convalescent Home on Lake Street, where Carolyn would sometimes visit her. Both of Carolyn's parents worked graveyard shifts. The young couple were able to save for a year for the down payment on their new home. We take a sidebar for Carolyn to talk about the difference in how service and healthcare work are valued in The Philippines vs. how they're valued in the US. Carolyn then shares a story of how, when she was in the fourth grade, she and her twin sister started going to a new school in their neighborhood. Prior to this, they were bussed. At her new school, they asked Carolyn if she wanted to play volleyball. But to join the team, she needed to pay five dollars. She ran four blocks home to ask her mom for the money, but turns out she wouldn't give it to young Carolyn, who was so upset that she cried until her mom relented. She did well at volleyball and even made friends through her new sport. She felt so good about it all that she thought, ‘This is why dad brought us here.' It was the beginning of what would become a lifelong involvement with sports. We end Part 1 with Carolyn's foray into many different sports and all the women along the way who inspired her. Check back next week for Part 2 and the official last episode of Season 7 of Storied: San Francisco. We recorded this podcast at Carolyn's childhood home in The Sunset in June 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt

Jeff Hunt joins the podcast and we breakdown QBs 12-9 on my Top 36 QB Countdown.

Jeff Hunt joins the show. We discuss and breakdown QBs 16-13 on my top 36 QB Countdown.

In Part 2, we pick up where we left off in Part 1. Young Ed was studying at UC Davis and exploring his sexuality. He didn't consider himself bisexual, and instead thought that everyone was fluid. But he thought he had made a choice—that is, to be heterosexual. Part of that decision is that Ed always wanted a family of his own, and therefore, partnering with a woman was the only way to achieve that. But between relationships with women, Ed would visit “cruise-y bathrooms,” places known for their hookup potential. This was before the internet and smartphones. Stuff like this was word-of-mouth and need-to-know. But during his visits, Ed never hooked up with anyone. He says that he merely wanted to be adjacent to that world. After he graduated, Ed stayed in Davis. One day over coffee with a female friend at a lesbian cafe, his friend told him that she might be bi. He said he might be, too. She suggested that they “go to this club in San Francisco” where they could scratch that itch, so to speak. Ed says that The Box remains the most diverse array of folks in the LGBTQIA+ community he has ever been part of. And it wasn't diverse only on the sexuality spectrum. There were folks from all over the gender spectrum, too, he says. Ed watched men of various ethnic backgrounds dancing with one another and thought, ‘Why are those straight guys dancing with each other? Wait, they're not straight. Wait, I'm not straight.' So now he knew. But the question of whether and how to come out was a totally separate question. It was the mid-Nineties. Coming out was, in Ed's words, “really fucking scary.” He remembered that his dad, who has since come around and is loving and accepting of who his son is, often used homophobic slurs casually when Ed was a kid. Still, Ed summoned the courage and started telling folks. His mom was cool. His dad and brother were cool, too, but also probably confused. His friends shrugged him off in a very “no duh” kinda way. But there was that one member of his friend group for whom the news seemed not to sit well. Brad had been Ed's friend since seventh grade back in Hawaii. Three months after coming out to his friends, Brad let Ed know that he, too, wanted to come out of the closet, but that Ed had stolen his thunder. Laughs all around. Going back to that night at The Box, Ed met someone and they started dating. His new partner lived in Berkeley and Ed moved in (they had a roommate). Then Ed and that first boyfriend moved to the Tenderloin together, followed by a move to the Mission. Ed got a job teaching at Balboa High School in The City. He says he was so young (23) and blended in with students enough that on his first day, the principal at Balboa told him to get to class. Again, belly laughs. Ed loved teaching and did well at it. He lasted at Balboa from 1996 to 2001, teaching English as a second language to students from all over the world. The conversation shifts to the moment when Ed realized that San Francisco was home. Despite being here so long (since the mid-Nineties), Ed feels that SF is one of several places for him. Hawaii will always hold a place in his heart. He says that his sense of adventure and curiosity have him roaming around to other cultures regularly. But being married and having kids of his own grounds him in The City. One of his two children experiences mental health challenges, so that makes leaving tricky. All of that and community. Community keeps him here. I get it. One space Ed finds community is at The Social Study, where we recorded. It's his neighborhood bar, the place where bartenders know his drink without him ordering it. The spot where other regulars and semi-regulars ask him details about his life. Sure, he could find that in another part of town or in another city altogether. But right now, that community is his. And he relishes it. There's also his work. Aside from classroom teaching, Ed did some after-school work, education philanthropy work, and some other education-related jobs. Early in the pandemic, his non-binary older kid struggled. Ed says that in hindsight, he wished he had taken his child out of “Zoom school.” He wanted the kid to pick one topic, whatever they wanted, and learn that. They would spend time outside and hang out together. But that's not what happened. The teacher in Ed pushed his kid, over and over. Ed and his partner were able to find support groups around SF and the Bay Area that work with children who exhibit mental health issues. That helped, but he eventually realized that his own parenting needed help and support, because it wasn't meeting the moment. He sought that help, but wasn't impressed. He says it was mostly folks telling him what he was doing wrong, instead of being supportive and uplifting and actually teaching him. He found a couple of tools that served as Band-Aid solutions, but he was left looking and looking and looking for answers. He needed help that acknowledged and addressed his own traumas. And so he began working more or less on his own. One of his first discoveries was recognizing a moment, however short and fleeting, between his kid's stimulating action or words and Ed's reaction. If he could interrupt that automatic reaction and gain control of his own emotions, it would serve both himself and his kid. He worked on stretching out that time … from one second to two seconds and eventually to five. Once he got there, he could respond thoughtfully and lovingly vs. reacting. Realizing that he was able to overcome his shortcomings as a parent all on his own lead to Ed's founding of The Village Well. He'd met others who were aligned with his parenting experiences. He knew that if they created a space where folks in their situations could come for comfort and sharing and advice, they'd be doing the right thing. If you're interested in learning more, please visit The Village Well's website and follow them on social media @villagewellparenting. As we do at Storied: San Francisco, we end this podcast with Ed Center's take on our theme this season—keep it local. We recorded this podcast at The Social Study in June 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt

The Federal Theatre joins Denver's list of vintage movie palaces turned music venue after the folks behind The Oriental Theater recently announced they were taking over the space. Could this be a new catalyst for more business along this Northside strip? Then, after President Trump complained that his portrait at the state capitol was “truly the worst”, it was removed — but legislators and History Colorado are trying to decide if the paintings should be replaced by something different altogether. Host Bree Davies is joined by Westword editor in chief Patty Calhoun to dig into these stories, plus producer Olivia Jewell Love pops by to share listener comments on everything from flock cameras to witchcraft. Bree talked about the Federal Theatre's fundraiser to get the old venue running again and our episode with conservative talk radio host Jeff Hunt. After our show with Denver Police Chief Ron Thomas, listener Fiona had questions about other police departments having access to Denver's flock camera data. Patty mentioned Governor Polis' “Colorado 150 Bridge”.  For even more news from around the city, subscribe to our morning newsletter Hey Denver at denver.citycast.fm. Follow us on Instagram: @citycastdenver Chat with other listeners on reddit: r/CityCastDenver Support City Cast Denver by becoming a member: membership.citycast.fm What do you think? Text or leave us a voicemail with your name and neighborhood, and you might hear it on the show: 720-500-5418 Learn more about the sponsors of this June 24th episode: RAQC Xcel Energy  Cozy Earth - use code COZYDENVER for 40% off best-selling temperature-regulating sheets, apparel, and more. Looking to advertise on City Cast Denver? Check out our options for podcast and newsletter ads at citycast.fm/advertise Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Ed Center and I begin this podcast with a toast. I'm proud to call Ed my friend. I met him a couple years at The Social Study, where we recorded this episode and where my wife, Erin Lim, bartends. From the first time I spoke with Ed, I knew I liked him. His energy and humor and intellect and heart are all boundless. I'm hella drawn to people like Ed. His story begins in Cebu in the Philippines, with his maternal grandmother. Her family was poor and her parents died in the Spanish Flu of the 1910s. That loss plunged the surviving family members into what Ed describes as destitute poverty. Following that tragedy, her older brother signed up to work for the Dole company in Hawaii. Ed's grandmother was 13 at this time, but still, it was decided that she would accompany her brother to the islands to help care for him while he worked the pineapple fields and earned a wage. Ed points out that the Dole Food Company (as it was known at the time) intended these migrant workers to honor their contracts and then go back to their home countries. To that end, the company only hired young men. But Ed's family paid a stranger on their boat $20 to marry his grandmother so that she could join her brother in Hawaii. Ed goes on a sidebar here about the tendency in his family to exaggerate their own history. “Don't let the truth get in the way of a good story,” or so the family saying goes. He returns to the story of his maternal grandmother to share the tale of her younger sister being so distraught about the departure, she hugged her so hard that her flip-flop broke. It was her only pair of shoes. In the Filipino community on Oahu at the time, there was an outsize number of men in relation to women. When Ed's grandfather first set eyes on his grandma, he began to court her. A year later, they asked her older brother if they could get married, and he said no, that she was too young (14 at the time). But they got married anyway, with the understanding that they would wait two more years to live together. They moved in and Ed's grandmother had a new baby, including his mom, every other year for the next 20 years. Like her brother, his grandmother's new husband worked in the pineapple fields for Dole, doing incredibly hard labor. His grandma washed clothes for bachelor workers. The two saved their money and bought plantation property from Dole. The property was affordable enough that they were able to build multiple shacks for the kids to eventually live in. At this point, Ed launches into what he calls “the shadow story” of his family. He learned that shadow story when he was a kid and his mom and aunties were cooking in the kitchen. He'd sit just outside the room pretending to read a book, eavesdropping. There, he learned things like which family members were smoking pot or getting into trouble. But there are more serious elements, which prompts Ed to issue a trigger warning to readers and listeners. His grandmother didn't quite agree to go to Hawaii. When she told her brother no to the idea, he beat her. He did this repeatedly until she acquiesced. But it was in one of these violent melees that his grandmother's flip-flop broke. All this to say that Ed's grandmother didn't have much agency in her life decisions. The last two of her 10 children almost killed her. After number 10, the doctor gave Ed's grandfather an involuntary vasectomy. Ed shares the story of how, on plantation payday, the women and children would hide in the fields with the men guarding them. It was a way to try to protect them from workers in the next village getting drunk and coming in to cause trouble. He summarizes the family history to this point by pointing out the incredible amount of resilience his ancestors carried. Also strength and love. But also, violence. All of those qualities manifested in their and their children's parenting practices. Ed's mom raised her kids in this way. The severity of the abuse waned over generations, but it was there nonetheless. Ed says he was ultimately responsible for his mother's emotions. For many of these reasons, in his adult life, Ed founded The Village Well Parenting. We'll get more into that in Part 2. We back up for Ed to tell the story of how his mom and dad met each other. His dad was in the Army during the war in Vietnam. On a voyage to Asia, his boat took a detour and ended up in Hawaii, where he remained for the next five years. His parents got together and had Ed and his younger brother. They grew up among a much larger Filipino extended family, but Ed didn't really know his dad's Caucasian family, who lived on the East Coast. He's gotten to know them more in his adult life. Ed grew up on Oahu in the Seventies and Eighties. His family was between working class and middle class, and there was always stress about money. But in hindsight, they lived well. We share versions of a similar story—that of parents telling kids that Christmas would be lean, that they didn't have a lot of money (probably true), but that never ended up actually being the case. Both of our recollections was mountains of gifts on December 25. Growing up, Ed was always feminine. He was also athletic. It was a time before Ellen, before Will and Grace, when “athletic” also meant “not gay.” Ed says he wanted to be “not gay,” but he couldn't help who he was. That led to his getting bullied. Moving to the mainland for college meant escape—from his own torment and from that of his peers back on the island. Ed went to UC Davis. He had played competitive soccer in middle school and high school, and because his teams were good, they came to the mainland a couple times. But Davis was a whole other world by the time he arrived to go to college. It was the early Nineties. He took what we call a gap year before coming to California. For him, that meant working. In one of his jobs, he served tables at CPK in Hawaii, where Carol Burnett was one of his regulars. We end Part 1 with Ed's story of his time at UC Davis and not yet accepting his queerness. This Thursday on the podcast, I talk with Megan Rohrer about their new book on the Transgender District in San Francisco. And check back next week for Part 2 with Ed Center. We recorded this podcast at The Social Study in June 2025. Photography by Jeff Hunt

Anti-Trump protests have been escalating in Denver, especially as the president ratchets up his immigration crackdown. While no Waymos have been torched here in the Mile High, there is a still an open question about violence. Eighteen protesters were arrested last Tuesday after a confrontation with police, and one conservative talk show host was kicked. 710KNUS's Jeff Hunt has been attending protests in Denver all year, and he caught his alleged assault on video. So host Bree Davies spoke with Jeff about the kick, his self-described “gotcha”-style videos,” the question of violence, and why, through it all, he says he still loves Denver.  Check out Jeff Hunt's protest videos for yourself!  Here's the one from the conservative “March for Life” This one is from the Bernie/AOC rally in March This is the one he referenced featuring protesters warning others not to talk to him And here's the one where he gets kicked  For even more news from around the city, subscribe to our morning newsletter Hey Denver at denver.citycast.fm. Follow us on Instagram: @citycastdenver Chat with other listeners on reddit: r/CityCastDenver Support City Cast Denver by becoming a member: membership.citycast.fm What do you think about Jeff Hunt's "gotcha" videos? Or the violence at the protests? Text or leave us a voicemail with your name and neighborhood, and you might hear it on the show: 720-500-5418 If you enjoyed this interview with Grace Ramirez the Senior Manager of Xcel Energy, learn more here. Learn more about the other sponsors of this June 16th episode: Xcel Energy Babbel - Get up to 60% off at Babbel.com/CITYCAST Looking to advertise on City Cast Denver? Check out our options for podcast and newsletter ads at citycast.fm/advertise Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The anti-ICE protests rage on… Now in Denver, Colorado, more anti-ICE rioters have joined the scene, blocking streets and freeways, and wreaking havoc. One can only imagine what June 14th will be like… Next, Donald Trump joined Miranda Devine for an interview, and bombshells were dropped. Hints at a revival in his relationship with Elon, talk at Camp David, and mentions of those mysterious drones before the inauguration. Finally, while everyone is distracted with the protests, much more is happening behind the scenes… We'll be covering all this and more on today's Untamed!