Aren’t we all dreaming of breaking out? Seeing something besides the place where we live? Sometimes in life you have to get lost — to find yourself. Roy and Anna Williams set out from their home in Florence, Kentucky, to circle the west in a car that ran on dreams.

Jennifer Annable was five months pregnant when she moved to Seattle with fifty-bucks in her pocket. She worked long hours, struggling to become a teacher. Eventually, she ran a school for children with special needs. Melvin Jones was one of them. He was 16, drifting on the streets of Seattle. She made up a room for him. She had already opened her home to five kids. Why would a divorced, single mom take on such a challenge?

No matter how far we go into the wilderness, we can seldom escape the sounds we make. There are few places where planes do not fly or foghorns cannot pierce. Just as city lights keep us from seeing dimmer stars, these noises of every day life drown out the more delicate voices of nature. Gordon Hempton searches for spots to record the earth’s chorus — without us.

New York spends more money on the arts than other city in the country, but a lot of those dollars come from outsiders. If you subtract all that out of town money, the place that spends the most per person for culture is Bassett, Nebraska.

Photographer for Life

Milton Rogovin grew old watching his neighborhood grow up, sharing the yearbook of their lives.  He was still photographing them at age 100, surrounded by friends who were now taking his picture — the “forgotten ones,” who did not forget him.

Planting Poems

In 1915, Robert Frost brought his wife and four children to a small farm in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. He was a terrible farmer. He used to milk the cows at midnight, so he could sleep late. Townsfolk figured he’d be on their welfare rolls by Christmas. Then, they read something he wrote. It inspired them to do something very special for poets.

A caring heart is as good a measure as any, when you try to evaluate success. World-class Chef Scott Peacock once told me, “It’s always the most important ingredient.”

He was lifting a cake out of the oven. Turned and dropped it on the kitchen table next to an elderly woman.

“Tell me if it’s ready?”

Edna Lewis didn’t poke it or taste it. She cocked her head and lowered her ear to the dish.

“It’s fading away,” it’s fading away

There was a reason she was in the cookbook hall of fame. She cooked
by ear.

Michael Najarian found his name chiseled on a list of war dead. His was one of more than 58 thousand names on the Wall of the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington, D.C. Najarian served in Vietnam, but was still very much alive.

“I just sort of sank on the ground,” he said, shaking his head. “I couldn’t believe it.”

You may not either.

There was a time in America where neighbors were considered part of your wealth. In Four Corners, Louisiana, they still are. Hardly a family here makes $10,000 a year. But together, they had rebuilt eleven homes. They linked up with trade people who taught them how.

In Radio City Music Hall, the years do not flow back into the past. They gather invisibly around you. Each Christmas the Rockettes dance into our memories. Doris Carie was a Rockette at 17, the youngest girl in the line. They lived in the theater from 8 in the morning until 11 at night. After a year, she was sore all over. She went home to Georgia, but she never forgot the lessons.

Bob Stanfill spent his first night in jail at age 9. For two decades he was in and out so often, he expected to die beneath prison towers. Until one day, he married into a remarkable family. They helped Bob open his own barbershop. Surrounded him with customers. And kept him out of prison for 30 years. Now he’s back. By choice.

On Betty Sullivan’s 75th birthday, her kids got together to sing for their mom in a place polished with dreams and hard work. Carnegie Hall. She was set to perform again at Carnegie Hall on her 90th birthday. Coronavirus canceled the celebration. 

Jim and Betty Sullivan just wanted their eight kids to learn music. They began to teach them in an old home, now covered in weeds. Son Tim sang country songs. His sister, Heather, wrote themes for television shows. Her sister, Stacy, had a recording career, and big sister, K.T., was a world-class cabaret singer.

She sang them a song with her favorite line.

“You have never left my mind long enough to leave me …”

Paul Rokich grew up in the old American Smelter camp in Tooerle, Utah. Copper lay under the Oquirrh Mountains. To get it, workers nearly killed the soil. The Oquirrh’s were so polluted, experts told Rokich they could not be saved. One moonlit night, he flipped over the copper company’s fence, alone in the darkened desert with a knapsack and two trees. Let’s let Paul tell the tale.

Singer Saves a Town

I was sitting in a small cafe. At the other end of the counter was a man who looked like Lincoln. He was big and rawboned and about 80. His voice pierced and rattled like an old bugle. I couldn’t help overhearing. He was holding forth about a fellow named Paul Sykes, who arrived in Oklahoma with 600 former slaves from Alabama the year before one of those big land runs that offered up free homesteads out west.

NBA All-Star’s Greatest Opponent. Himself

Chicago Bulls Hall of Famer Bob Love ended up bussing tables in a Seattle restaurant because he suffered from a life time of stuttering.

Silverton, Washington has a hang up about being in touch. Out here, rivers sparkle like winter stars. And the air smells like it was just made. Denny Boyd grew up in asphalt meadows dreaming of such a place. So 15 years ago, he left city life to open a store in the mountains of western Washington. He neglected to notice the small print in his dream. Silverton, Washington was one of the last towns in America where you cannot make a phone call.

Seth Chwast cannot hold a conversation or a complex thought. At two he was diagnosed with Autism. His mother was determined to give him a normal life.
A counselor suggested that Seth consider mopping floors for a career. Instead, his mom enrolled him in one last therapy class at the Cleveland, Ohio, Museum of Art.

Changing Racial History

Macon county, Tennessee, is so lovely folks like to say, “If you stay long enough to wear out a pair of shoes, you’ll never leave.” Not everyone was given that chance. Black people used to be run out of the county. Some were hung from a tree on the courthouse square. Fred Thomas’ friends thought he was crazy when he opened a medical clinic in Macon county. “If I had listened to what people said,” Dr. Thomas pointed out, “I would have been a plumber.” Fred Thomas ignored the county’s racial history. He began to forge his own.

Beer Cans Heat home PIX

Now you can enjoy heating your home. An inventor in Woodsdale, Ohio, gets all the warmth he needs from empty beer cans. Add a garbage pail and a copper coil buried in compost. You get heat. Wisdom doesn’t always wear a suit.

Who Makes Those Crazy Valentines?

People buy more than 1-BILLION Valentines each year. Ever wonder who writes all those cards? What kind of mind comes up with “Be My Tootsie Wootsie or I’ll Break Your Armsy Warmsy?” Well, I did. Went to the center of all this creativity, to the cupids of Kansas City.

Country Mardi Gras

Mardi Gras comes with fancy masked balls and big parades. Thousands spent on costumes and parties. But for a Cajun in Mamou, the celebration costs only $7.50. For that, you get a beer, hard boiled eggs, sausage and the answer to the age old question, “Why did the chicken cross the road?

A third of all the paperback books sold in America are romance novels. One company has published a billion books in ten years. Enough to give a copy to every man, woman and child in China. The author of those books, Laura London, was voted “the most sensuous writer.” She is a man. His real name is Tom Curtis, a cross country trucker.

Book of Love

Now here’s something that Valentine cards just can’t convey — the depth of your love. In this age of social media, where anyone can be a star, here’s a consolation prize, Romance novels that let you and the one you love — or would like to love — be the main characters.

We all know what is, what ought to be. Few remain who remember what was. I recall a 1988 New Year celebration. It was a couple of beers before closing and the boys down at Brandy’s bar were lost on Memory Lane. John Sanderson was a bit fuzzy. He forgot the title of his favorite song. No problem today. Just ask Siri. Back then, Siri hadn’t been born yet. He had to rely on a human jukebox to help him find it.

Forest Cochran was just two. Much had happened in his little life. His parents separated. His mother Karen lost their home. There was no shelter for the homeless in Loganville, Georgia. But Joy Davis and her husband Wayne took them in. They have helped dozens of people get back on their feet. Once they started their single bathroom with ten strangers. Why?

Aniak, Alaska has the only Emergency Medical team serving three thousand people in an area the size of Delaware. Every EMT is a teenager. Teacher, Dave LeMaster, wasn’t too happy about letting his students cut class for all those emergency calls, until one day the rescue pager sounded and someone screamed, “Oh, my God, the principal just fell!” LeMaster shook his head in disbelief, “By the time the ambulance got here, they already had him stabilized.” And now? “It’s like Ghostbusters,” LeMaster grinned. “Who you gonna call?”

Marty Revellette lived his life with a single mindedness that blocked out everything but challenge. He was a man with no arms, but he pulled a women from her burning car. She survived. This story tells not only “how,” but “why.”
The country owes its success to those who are willing to try regardless of disability, people who risk their lives for country, family, even strangers.

Would be Czar

There once lived a Prince, who became a pauper and then lived happily ever after. This year, he turned 94 and is painting his life on little bits of plastic, a life that would have been filled with pomp—if the circumstances had been different.

Andrew Romanoff was born into Russian royalty, a prince raised in a castle. That’s usually a recipe for a grand life, but he lost his kingdom in the Russian Revolution, only to find a fairy tale ending in northern California.

Lonnie Bedwell never let a handicap, handicap him. The man is lights out blind. Lives far from fast water, but Bedwell was the first blind person to kayak the Grand Canyon. He navigated the rapids listening closely, as friends called out the way.

WHAT INSPIRED HIS QUEST? THE FRIEND WHO SHOT HIM.

Will Steiger searches for land that hasn’t felt footsteps, the coldest parts of our earth, where the north wind bullies and temperatures cower—to seventy below. In this vast wilderness near the North and South Poles he seems oddly out of place—plodding carefully through the massive ice, alone. Will Steger explored the unknown—one step at a time—for more than forty years. Some ice fields are now so thin, his sled dogs fall through. But science alone won’t fix this. Will thinks people coming together and working for the common good might. We may get blisters on our hands, and calluses on our dreams, but the ally he seeks is the part in all of us that knows what is right. Many preach about saving the planet. Will just puts his boots on and goes.

Who gets the roughest weather in America. The place looks looks gentle, like a smiling stranger with an offer of candy, but more than a hundred people have died there because winter can come in any month. One day in three, hurricane force winds slap the landscape. Since 1932, a small band of scientists has struggled into this arctic laundromat to be tumbled around in search of the worst weather in the world.

There’s an old warehouse near San Francisco Bay filled with bronze sculptures, a salute to Americans who did not dream in black and white. They envisioned a country where everyone was equal. A long line of people have tried to make that so. Mario Kyoto thinks they ought to have their own Mount Rushmore. His work is so stunning, the Oakland City council has given his giant figures a home.

An update 2 decades after El Capitan’s Courageous Climbers scaled the world’s tallest peak. One of them did it with a broken back. That inspired President Bush to sign the Americans with Disabilities Act.

Some holiday gifts for you this week. Today, one my first films. It WAS shot on film. An investigative documentary about high rise fires. We not only uncovers problems, but offer a solution, a theme my stories would follow throughout my career. Stick around for the commentary at the end of this half hour program.

A lot of folks have asked how I got started searching for the stories of ordinary people. I remember the moment because it set me on a path that I have followed to this day. I had come to Miami, Oklahoma, to shoot a documentary on artist Charles Banks Wilson’s most ambitious project. I had no idea back then how that work would change my life and countless others. Charles Banks Wilson knew our country would be better served if we listened more to people who don’t have titles in front of their names.

Folks in Boldon, Georgia proudly call their town, “the Briar Patch.” Like Brer’ Fox, they outwitted hard times, terror and indifference to bring us a Christmas Carol unique in all the world. It is called “the shout” an old West African word for “circle.” The congregation of the Mount Calvary Baptist church is the last who can carol it. Early missionaries didn’t want the slaves to sing the shout because it reminded slaves of home. Down through the years, this congregation has cradled the oldest Black spiritual in America. A Joyful noise, indeed.

The heart is the ultimate muscle. It can lift a heavy burden and make life easier. Those who meet Amy Wall notice her heart first. She was born deaf, the nerves in her ears, incurably damaged. “You can’t rebuild that inner ear,” her doctor, Matthew Bucko told me. “That is like trying to put a new brain into someone.” Amy’s brother and sister asked their mom, if they could pray for a miracle. She was skeptical.

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT?

Remember the first time you sat on Santa’s lap? It was perhaps the most important speech of your life. Blow it here, you could end up with a sweater. We visited a unique toy workshop. For 35 years, volunteers have met once a week in an old sheep barn to make toys — year round — for children whose lives are as rough as theirs used to be.

This is for all those who are tired of credit card traditions at Christmas. People in Lake Palmer, Colorado, gather at the town hall for what looks and sounds like an Easter egg hunt. They set off every year to find a special log that will light the darkest days of the year. A yule log. Hidden in the hills above the town.

Brian Jones bought a home 40-million people see every Christmas. He signed a check — sight unseen — for $150,000 dollars. Brian flew to Cleveland, Ohio, for the first time in his life to find it. He figured it must be just around the corner from a flagpole. His wife Beverly, a Navy navigator, had jokingly sent him an email saying someone on EBay was auctioning off the house where they filmed Brian’s favorite movie — “A Christmas Story.” She was at sea at the time. “I didn’t have time to consult her,” Brian said, “There were other bidders.” When Beverly heard how he had spent their savings, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He wrote another check for $200,000 bucks to restore the old place to its happy-ending splendor. That house was Brian’s Red Ryder dream. The couple bought another house across the street. Opened a gift shop to help pay for it all. Here you can find the movie dad’s major award, the old man’s leg lamp. “Fraw—GEE-lay,” said the dad, reading “Fragile” on the box it came in. “Must be Italian.” The first year Brian opened the house and the store, leg lamp sales totaled nearly $700,000 dollars. If you’ve always wanted to display your leg lamp and avoid “shooting your eye out,” it may be time to move. Brian just put the home for sale, along with much of the surrounding neighborhood that serves as a museum campus.

Bass Reeves: The Real Lone Ranger

Charles Davis hoisted his cane for attention. “Bass Reeves!” he shouted. We looked at one another for some clue as to what was to come. The only sound was an industrious bee in a honeysuckle bush. “I can tell you more about him than perhaps you ever heard.” Bass was the inspiration for the Lone Ranger.

“Shadows chase shadows. Now and then a whisper of sliding rope. The anxious, uneven breathing of 60 people lugging one of their own to safety.” I keep an Ideas notebook. When something prompts an idea, I type it into my cellphone. These thoughts may not always fit the story I’ve been assigned, but I don’t throw them away. The next time I’m pressed for an opening line, I scroll through those thoughts. Two words “Darkness” and “Friendship” inspired that opening narration.

Picture Man

Few people in Cabbagetown know his name. He just showed up one Sunday and has seldom missed a Sunday since. They call him simply the “Picture Man.” He is not the first photographer to come here, but he is the first to give back something of himself. Each week he passes out hundreds of prints of the pictures he has taken. He pays for the prints himself. They are photos of feeling. Orion Catlege is partially blind.

Ever wonder what happens to birds who are too old to migrate? Gurney Crawford did. He built a place for them to land and singlehandedly diverted the flight path of Canada Geese. How did the geese say “thank you?”