This was recorded just minutes ago, folks, with no edits whatsoever (I’m lazy), and a lot less uhhs and ums than last time (you guys made me paranoid).
It’s almost an audio follow-up to the roommate post from a few days ago. Here I tell the story about leaving home for the first time, at the (too old?) age of 23.
I hope you enjoy it.
There’s an unplanned appearance by a special guest during the first five minutes of the podcast, so be sure not to miss it. It’s incredibly exciting.
I also mumble a Question of the Day at the tail-end of the recording, and it’s fairly predictable: Please use the comments section to tell us about the circumstances under which you left home. How old were you? How did it go? Was it rough on you? And so on…
Thanks for reading, and for listening. Let me know how you think this audio experiment is going. Is it worth continuing?
See ya next time! Have a great weekend.
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Download the mp3 [ 28 minutes / 7 MB ]
Can you yell 1st for podcasts?
Wow….FIRST!! Have to listen later…
Damn!!!
Top 10?
hiya!
Gonna wait till I get home tonight to listen. Can’t exactly have a hillbilly robot blaring out of my speakers at work now, can I?
You’re sounding much more relaxed. See . . . you can trust us. Probably.
And, Jeff…you don’t sound ANYTHING like I thought you would!
No, that is not a bad thing.
You sound like you’re from WV when you say the word ‘Buddy’
I left home at the age of 18. The day I started college orientation but I wasn’t living in a dorm, nooooo. I moved into a trailer park with my 1 year old daughter (keep your stereo types to yourself.) I attended Allegheny College full time, worked almost full time (39.5 hrs a week,) had a work study job and raised my daughter. Needless to say, it was too much. Severe depression set in and I had to drop out of school. I did go back years later and I bought my first house at the age of 27. Stereotypes my ass!
I moved out when I was 24, for no better reason than most of my friends had already left the nest. I only moved about three miles from home so I didn’t have any issues with homesickness to deal with and had been working the same construction job for four years. Moved back home 2 years later, moved back out into my first home 6 months later and am still there 16 years later.
I left home at age 18. I moved in with about 35 other guys. We all wore green and got up at an un-Godly hour and ran around our neighborhood in a big bunch yelling and singing songs. We all got the same haircut even! Our landlord yelled a lot and wore a funny brown felt hat. In our spare time we cleaned everything, cleaned it again and did hundreds and hundreds of push ups. It was okay, but we all went our separate ways about 10 weeks later.
Nicely done Jeff. Nothing overstated, nothing pretentious, just a good ‘ol story telling. I did start thinking about Morgan Freeman though once or twice ….and, when, I was a boy, people told me, I had a good story telling voice, yes they did…..yes, they did….
But anyway, thanks Jeff. Appreciate the effort. Say hi to your mystery guest for me.
QOD….I never really left home…
Mom and Dad retired and for the first time saw financial light by selling the city home and moving to a smaller town. They signed the papers and dad passed away 5 days later. Mom was a trooper and moved anyways – 2.5 hours away, no car, no friends or family ..just the dreams that they had of a nice quite wind down to life. Twenty six years ago and I miss Dad as much today as I did then.
I moved in with my sister in to a one bedroom apartment. I positioned a wall unit to block off the dining room and I had a cozy hobbit hole to myself.
Three years later mom and my sister decide to move in to a house together at the same time I was going to marry she who must be feared and obeyed. The timing was off a little bit before that could happen though. For about 3 months my sister had the bedroom, I had my hobbit hole and Mom had the couch in the living room (and any space still available not occupied by her stuff that we moved in).
The cat had everywhere. Including a litter box in the bathroom. He took great pleasure in flinging big webbed pawfuls of kitty litter across the floor…it was like walking on a beach first thing in the morning..only slightly crunchier. And I’m REALLY allergic to cats…
And then between Mom and sister moving out and She who must b f a o’d ,,, moving in, I had the whole place to myself with a lawn chair, a TV on the floor, a bed and a dresser.
I’ve been married since so except for a few months I’ve never really lived alone and I guess I never really left home.
Yuengling in the news…
http://www.ctv.ca/servlet/ArticleNews/story/CTVNews/20100319/harper_beer_100319/20100319?hub=QPeriod
Good job, Andy!
Good Afternoon Surf Reporters…….
First moved out at the age of 18 to go to college(Slippery Rock University in PA). There I got straight B’s. Unfortunately those stood for Beer, Bongs and Babes.
Moved back home to get my “act” together. Attended a community college where I met my first and still first wife.
Back to another real college(Clarion University of PA) and was married by my senior year.
It’s been that way for the last 22 years.
I moved out when I was around 21. My father died about six months before and I felt incredible guilt for leaving my mother alone. My other siblings had been long gone. So I was left as an “only child” for years. The relationship I moved out for didn’t work out…young and dumb…so back in I went…just mom and me. And let me tell you something: You. Can. Never. Move. Back. Home….EVER. Once your out and have your own ways, that’s it. I moved back in at 24 and all I heard was…”as long as you’re living under my roof, you’ll obey my rules”. Jesus H. There were many late nights…I should say mornings… trying to sneak in the back door of a creaking old-ass Victorian house only to find Bab’s (mom) sitting at the diningroom table with her coffee waiting for me.
My boyfriend was even younger. He couldn’t wait till he was old enough to move out as his parents house was always a zoo with a million foster kids and all. So he moved into his own apt at 17 and bought the beautiful house we now live in at 18. He is now 30.
I am few years younger than you, but that sounds about right. I remember coal miners working at McDonald’s.
We are getting there again.
I went into the military the winter after HS graduation.
Hey, long time lurker, first time commenter – commentator? Who knows. Anyway, the podcast: You are essentially a story-teller right? Well, and no offense intended, listening to it kinda felt like I was at some sort of social function where nobody really knows each other and people are chatting it up about random things to make nice conversation until it’s time to go home. When I have read your posts in the past, you seem to have much more control of the narrative and they tend to read quite a bit more smoothly and more humorously than the podcast. Maybe the podcasts are more off-the-cuff, but I think your storytelling benefits from whatever time you may take to edit them down to, well, the funny stuff. Plus I think what you miss in the podcast are all of the uh, colorful, expressions and descriptions you put into the written posts as well as the outrage(perhaps played up a bit, but effective) that you portray. These are the things that make your writing enjoyable, to me at any rate. Still, I like the idea of listening to the stories, but to get them to the level of your written posts may require more scripting than you’re interested in doing. Hell, maybe just have a few cold ones before sitting down in front of that mic to really get the verbiage flowin’. Keep it up.
Mister Mister – Broken Wings?
I think you had a post once about the bleach.
“He looked like he gets in a bar fight like a have a bowl of cereal.”
^ That’s what you’re missing if you don’t listen to the podcast.
How ’bout them Mountaineers!
You mean, how many fires will we have tonight in Morgantown.
Why is it always a couch? Why not a nice ottoman?
I enjoyed your podcast. It was (almost) like listening to Ira Glass on This America Life… or maybe even Garrison Keillor!
I like the flow of your voice, slow and confident. Your speech isn’t as tight as your writing, (ie. adding “all that jazz” ) to sentences, but it’s still easy listening. I found myself waiting for you to say “douchebaggery” or “Sweet Sainted Mother of Bonnie Franklin”, but that’s just me. Andy was a welcome intrusion, and your spontaneous reaction to him is really the Jeff we know and love. I’d never be able to do what you just did… trying to be clever and funny without sounding rehearsed. I found whatever accent you have (or whatever you have left of it) endearing. It’s your voice, and that’s what your loyal fans are here for. I, personally, wouldn’t care for any attempt of yours to sound like a TV news anchor from Nebraska. I’m starting to ramble, so I’ll wrap this up by imploring you to continue. Please.
I moved out of the hotel my mother and I were shacked up in after she left drunk boyfriend number 2 for about the 40th time when she decided to check herself into a nut house for a long overdue nervous breakdown. i was given instructions to check out and put her things in our storage shed and get myself a ride to my dads. i of course did not go to my dads i went to my boyfriends house 3 hours away. i was 17. i went back home when Bitchy Mcnutster got out of the nut house and things went south with the boyfriend. We went on several mid life adventures and I finally left home for good at 25 when i bought my own house. i guess the way i left home was better than my brother who was left in Indianapolis at 17 when we moved to chicago to stay with said drunk number 2. my mom is fucking crazy. i hate her.
thanks for making me think about it. LOL
oh yeah and jeff you really don’t sound anything like i would have thought either. not a bad thing at all. you have a great voice.
where is Dorothy?
I started renting an apartment 2 weeks before I graduated high school. I was 18. It was a fully furnished one bedroom (1970’s motif – even the carpet), all I needed was a TV.
It was in the same town I’d grown up in so it wasn’t as radical a move for me. I got a job working in a mobile home factory, making great money at the time. I found a shady character at a gas station up the road who would sell me beer if I slipped him a little something extra, so I had the time of my life.
One night I came home and found a note stuck to my door. It was made up of letters cut from magazines, you know, the kind of note that a serial killer might make? It scared the living shit out of me. It simply said, “Fuck me.” I didn’t know what to make of it.
The next morning the girl – or woman, I should say -from next door rang my doorbell. I’d had seen her around a few times and exchanged small talk with her now and then. She was still half drunk from the night before. She said, “I’m sorry for putting that note on your door. I was drunk.” I was stunned. I paused for a minute and said, “Oh no, I was hoping you were serious.” And she said, “Really? Wanna go out tonight?” And so we did. It had never occured to me that this grown woman (mid 30’s, my guess) would be interested in a kid like me. But she was. Tina was her name. Dark hair and blue eyes. It was a very casual and sex centered relationship. She came over and watched the Super Bowl with me, for example. We got drunk and I boned her during the entire second half. Crazy.
One day I told her that I was “moving up” and getting an apartment closer to work. She said she’d miss me and that was that. For all I know she still lives there. Maybe there’s some kid living next to her, having the time of his life.
That was a great podcast. I think I heard a phone vibrating at one point. Is that correct?
Left home 5 days past my 18th birthday for college. I haven’t been home for more than a week since almost 16 yrs later.
Love the podcasts. Please continue, sir.
Left home to live with y BF when I was 18. We actually stayed together for about 6 years before that went south. Moved back in with Mom & Dad for about 6 months – 5 months longer than I could tolerate. I moved in with a 27 lb cat my mother was terrified of when I moved in (named Biff after the lead singer of Saxon) but by the time I left my dad was calling him “Junior” and sharing Doritos with him in the evenings. They wouldn’t let me take him. Yeah. Nice.
Been out ever since. Dad passed 17 years ago (Man, has it really been that long?). I was supposed to move overseas back then, but couldn’t leave my mother. Thinking about staying with mom for a week or so before we move, but that’s as far as it’s gotten: thinking about it. She smokes like a freight train all day long, but I love her and should probably suck it up. We’ll see.
Happy Friday, Surfers! Have a great weekend, everyone!
The first time I left home was for the Army. First it was basic training, and it was what it was.
The they sent me to DLI in Monterey, CA. I stayed there for 7 months, my golden years. I packed so much experience in those 7 months than I had in years following. My first to roomates from the other day were from there.
I was housed, fed, and paid (Private pay but whatever, i had no bills) to live in Monterey and go to school for something I already knew.
My Jerk-o-matic roomate would by me booze. Oh yeah, I was 18 and 19 years old. It was awesome. Drunken feast and the Defense Love Institute. All the words in the world cannot explain. Bliss and wonder.
3 girls for every guy and 3 guys for every girl. Civilian teachers who recommended you take speaking tests drunk, and Big Sur just a little to the south. Trips to Los Angeles on the long weekends and illegal beach bonfires on the short ones.
The very first think I was told when I signed in was, “Don’t have sex in the woods.” That was the first thing they wanted you to know, no sex in the woods; everywhere else is fine though. I broke the rule often and never got ticks, chiggers, or any other sex in the woods parasite.
Loved it once again.
PS ~ As alluded to above, more fucking cussing please.
forgive the typos above, i;m full of booze.
I’m a huge fan of the podcasts Jeff. I hope that you plan to keep doing them.
From your description of the redneck dudes driving the truck (complete with confederate flag), throwing M-80s out in the tunnel,and shoplifting from the white-supremest store, I have a hard time thinking that my brother-in-law wasn’t involved in all of that somehow.
He hasn’t changed a bit, except he’s lost the confederate flag and drives 10 miles an hour through Dunbar so he won’t miss anything that might be going on.In his old age he’s mellowed. He prefers gossip now instead of explosions,shoplifting and drinking.
Marine Corps Boot Camp in San Diego a week after I turned 18. Comm school in 29 Palms CA after that Yuma AZ, Jordan, Africa, Kuwait and Iraq after that! Moved back home for about 6 months after I got out, that was no bueno. I was going to school and after evening class went out to grab a drink with a gal from class…needless to say Mom was waiting up for me when I strolled in at 2 AM. What the Hell! Mom, I”ve been shot at repeatedly you don’t have to stay up for me. Found a room for rent near the college shortly after.
No stories from me. Went to college out of state, and so that was my move outta da house. Then back at home for 2 years, while I worked and saved money. Then graduate school in the same city as my family but I lived in an apartment solo.
Then a new job in a new city, with a weird roomate, but through him I met my wife.
Enjoyed the ‘cast do more I will listen. While I am working I usually listen to comedy routines and blues, so this is a nice change.
Can you boost the record level? I have all my sliders at max but the level is still lower than when I listed to other stuff. Don’t boost it so much that it distorts, but just a bit more.
Thanks
Another Jarhead here!
I left home for Parris Island after high school.
I was 18 years old.
Courtesy of the Marines, over the next four years I got to see the Philippines, Okinawa & Iwakuni, Japan, Korea, Guam, & Wake Island.
When the squadron was not deployed I lived in Kaneohe Bay, Oahu, home to one of the most beautiful flight lines I know of.
Ooh~rah!
Good Morning Surf Reporters….
I can’t sleep. I have Neil Diamonds “Sweet Caroline” playing on EarWig 104 FM
You sounded more confident and relaxed, but the best part of this podcast is that it sounds like an oral version of a homepage installment. You’ve got the same creative use of language spiced with redneck-ese, the whacky metaphors, the aphorisms–“he looked like he’d fight a barroom brawl the way I’d eat a bowl of cereal.” You really sound like you’re in your element.
I’m looking forward to the next one.
Just got around to listening to the podcast. I enjoyed it. Good job, Jeff. Looking forward to the next one. And whoever complained about the length being too long at 18 or whatever minutes, I disagree. A half-hour or so like this one seems just about perfect.
Nothing too exciting on the leaving-home front. Age 18, off to college.
Not enough “uhs” and “umms”. They are the carrier waves of conversation.
Seriously, I liked it a lot. You have enough material built up to go on a world-wide speaking tour and never repeat yourself.
I have not listened to the podcast yet but will let you know what i think after i do.
I left home at the age of 17. My mom gave me a monthly
benefit check from my step-dads death and said as long as I pay this one bill for her every month the rest is mine. So I left under ok circumstances and I liked having my own place at 17.
Great job .. great stuff .. as usual! The whole family gathered around and listened. I plan to link the URL to my face book page for others to enjoy.
Echo Stuarts request — Please boost the recording volume level.
I’m fixin’ to make myself a shit ‘n’ ‘mater sammich.
I will laugh everytime I eat a Mater from now on.
Good Morning Surf Reporters…… I mean it.
Shit ‘n’ mater Sammich.. I played that for everyone I know! Classic!!! Even better than the damn box scores!
Ok so the Podcast was not too long, I didn’t hear much of an accent and the moving out story was funny as shit (of course).
Haevah, I do believe that you have a pleasant, almost sexy voice. (I’m a chick so it’s not weird for me to sat that.) Really, you do. I’m just sayin’.
And now I’m contemplating a shit-n-mater samich for breakfast.