Speaker 1: Morning. The following episode includes tantric astrology, station Wagons, a
Speaker 1: go in folk song, the PBS Kids Show, Arthur, the
Speaker 1: scattering of ashes, backscratches, and coming to term with the
Speaker 1: father's passing. Sensitive listeners, please take care. This is Peter Kaplan,
Speaker 1: the legendary editor at the New York Observer. Editors were
Speaker 1: like movie directors, and they work with the writers. He
Speaker 1: had this old piece of advice that I think about
Speaker 1: a lot. When one of his writers was struggling with
Speaker 1: writer's block. Ke'd say, take out all your material and
Speaker 1: write a beginning, and then another and another, and keep going,
Speaker 1: and pretty soon you'll have this page full of beginnings.
Speaker 1: Even if that doesn't lead you where you want to go,
Speaker 1: you can step back and admire it and think, isn't
Speaker 1: that a beautiful thing? I've always loved that image. A
Speaker 1: bouquet full of beginnings promises paths to explore, and I
Speaker 1: wonder does it work the same for endings from Kaleidoscope
Speaker 1: and I Heeart podcast. I'm Mongish Articular. This is Skyline Drive,
Speaker 1: chapter one, car Rides. This is me on my last
Speaker 1: full day in India. I've been in the car since
Speaker 1: four am and I couldn't sleep the night before from
Speaker 1: sheer excitement. In Chennai. Mark said, I wouldn't find the
Speaker 1: resolution I needed in astrology. I wasn't going to soothe
Speaker 1: my heart ache with a reading or find direction and prophecies.
Speaker 1: The thing is, I was still clinging desperately to this
Speaker 1: idea of making a joyous astrology show and ignoring my emotions.
Speaker 1: He said I needed something else. He said, you need
Speaker 1: to go to that home. And I knew what he meant.
Speaker 1: Somewhere along our trip I had told him about Gin House,
Speaker 1: an old family home tucked away in Hobley, a town
Speaker 1: in the southern state of Carnatica. As a kid, I
Speaker 1: spent so many summers there, playing badminton on the lawn,
Speaker 1: reading on the verandah, dipping my toes in the well
Speaker 1: out back, and just soaking in all this love and
Speaker 1: attention that my relatives there gave me. Until I was
Speaker 1: in my teens, I thought gin House got the name
Speaker 1: because of all the warmth and entertaining and celebrating that
Speaker 1: took place there. But the gin actually referred to the
Speaker 1: cotton gins and working mills in the back. But this
Speaker 1: house and the grounds wasn't just a wondrous place for
Speaker 1: me to spend my summer days running around and exploring.
Speaker 1: The house was a life raft for both my grandfather
Speaker 1: and my father when each of them was at sea.
Speaker 1: When my grandfather lost his businesses in his old age,
Speaker 1: this is where he picked himself up and focused on
Speaker 1: his writing. When my father had failed out of college
Speaker 1: just fifteen, this is where his aunt pleaded for him
Speaker 1: to be sent to be given one more chance. So
Speaker 1: he came, and he flourished, and it was just as
Speaker 1: magical and transformative for him. It's where he stood third
Speaker 1: in all university exam and learned woodworking, and swam in
Speaker 1: the giant water tank out back, and embraced his cousins
Speaker 1: like siblings. And it's where, through the love of his aunt,
Speaker 1: he finally learned firsthand what it was like to have
Speaker 1: a mother. For months now, I've felt incomplete in the
Speaker 1: absence of my father. I don't really have a sense
Speaker 1: of who I'm supposed to be. I've kept moving, trying
Speaker 1: to tell myself I was okay putting my energy into
Speaker 1: this startup for this show. I hadn't actually cried, And
Speaker 1: as my wife Lizzie has told me, I've been distant.
Speaker 1: Now that I haven't like to complained about me, I'm
Speaker 1: happy to complain about you. I'm like or off. So
Speaker 1: I've mentioned over and over in the show that I'm
Speaker 1: not entirely present, and I know I definitely feel that,
Speaker 1: But can you talk a little bit about your perspective
Speaker 1: on that. I mean, I have said to you that
Speaker 1: I think that this show and working on this has
Speaker 1: been a wonderful gift, because if you aren't given something
Speaker 1: like that, then you are the one who puts things away.
Speaker 1: It's not good for a person. It's not good for you,
Speaker 1: it's not good for any person. So I'm glad that
Speaker 1: you're not doing that. But also you basically have like
Speaker 1: a job on a job at a time when the
Speaker 1: kids are also reading. It's been a hard time to
Speaker 1: have you be kind of constantly either literally not there
Speaker 1: or there, but you know, half there, You're like half
Speaker 1: in and half out. I keep thinking about that Dmitry
Speaker 1: Martin quote where he said that I guess he lost
Speaker 1: both his parents a pretty quick succession, or lost one
Speaker 1: of his parents, yeah, a mom in college or something,
Speaker 1: And he wrote a line that saw losing a parent
Speaker 1: is the first hardest thing. Yeah, your dad is who
Speaker 1: you are and how you imagine your future, which I
Speaker 1: think has been a lot of this experience views like okay,
Speaker 1: well kind of person am I going to be? And
Speaker 1: what's my life trajectory? I think that like grief is gigantic,
Speaker 1: it's like swimming in an ocean and like finding shallow
Speaker 1: parts where you can kind of stand for a bit
Speaker 1: and then you know the Marianne French or you won't
Speaker 1: be for very long, but it's just like you keep
Speaker 1: swimming and hopefully who over time you find warmer and
Speaker 1: shallower waters. But using the same metaphor, I guess you've
Speaker 1: become a stronger swimmer through this, and we can't be
Speaker 1: a part of that, you know. So yeah, maybe you've
Speaker 1: been less present, but maybe that's just natural, you know.
Speaker 1: Maybe the best thing we could do is kind of
Speaker 1: try to take care of ourselves for the meantime and
Speaker 1: be there when you come back. And it's not that
Speaker 1: I think visiting gin House will solve that feeling for
Speaker 1: me exactly, but I wonder if you could put me
Speaker 1: on firm or footing, that is, if we ever make
Speaker 1: it there. This drive feels endless, which was always my
Speaker 1: dad's favorite kind. We racked up over three hundred and
Speaker 1: fifty thousand miles in our Volvo station Wagon, the one
Speaker 1: my family got, one of us four driving across Nova,
Speaker 1: Scotia and West Virginia, the Outer Banks where that one
Speaker 1: time we drove to Quebec City because our dog, Chap,
Speaker 1: who was ill with a thyroid disease, needed to drink
Speaker 1: holy water from Saint Anne de Beaucray, a cathedral there.
Speaker 1: We'd adopted our dog from a Catholic family, and somehow
Speaker 1: my mom got the idea that we need to respect
Speaker 1: my dog's religious background, so we did anyway. We spent
Speaker 1: those hours of miles singing and arguing, playing word games.
Speaker 1: We pulled over to sample peaches and found streams to
Speaker 1: cool our heels, and we asked for directions, lots of directions.
Speaker 1: And after hours of driving, when the sky turned dark
Speaker 1: and our stomachs were full, the car got quiet. My
Speaker 1: mom and sister would fall asleep, my dad kept pushing ahead,
Speaker 1: and me I'd stare out the window. We moved across
Speaker 1: highways and country roads, often until one or two in
Speaker 1: the morning. Sometimes I tried to find the rhythm of
Speaker 1: the tower lights, guessing when the next beam would shine
Speaker 1: down on the car. Often I'd look higher, wishing on
Speaker 1: the first star I spotted, or tracing my fingers across
Speaker 1: constellations both real and imagine. And eventually I'd given to sleep,
Speaker 1: knowing that in this car, under this magnificent sky, I
Speaker 1: could close my eyes, feeling safe, loved, always moving forward.
Speaker 1: And now as I stare out the window at rural Connatica,
Speaker 1: I finally finally let tears stream down my face and
Speaker 1: I let go of everything I've been holding. In chapter two,
Speaker 1: White Magic, this is doctor vej Se dinaray Am, a
Speaker 1: tent trick astrologer from the age of five, the holy
Speaker 1: thing I know about life. For all of the astrologers
Speaker 1: we've met or hunted four in China, I there were
Speaker 1: so many disappointments except for this one. Around town. Doctor
Speaker 1: j has a reputation as a quote five star astrologer,
Speaker 1: and he agreed to meet with us after his TV
Speaker 1: appearance that morning. To tell you the truth, I did
Speaker 1: not have high hopes the words five star TV astrologer,
Speaker 1: I mean I pictured an astro televangelist. And as we
Speaker 1: waited in his sitting room, sweating from the Chennai heat,
Speaker 1: all I was thinking about was how many days we'd
Speaker 1: wasted and what were we really going to learn here?
Speaker 1: But when he welcomed us into his humble office with
Speaker 1: just enough space for desk and some chairs, it just
Speaker 1: felt different. Imbermal using to live a normal life. He's right,
Speaker 1: very little about doctor Vja's story is normal. Before him,
Speaker 1: his parents had six daughters. My great grandfather told my
Speaker 1: mother or my father stating that seventh baby will be
Speaker 1: a son, and by whip him khali, the jeans will
Speaker 1: be changed from a fee. Through prayers and offerings, they
Speaker 1: supposedly changed the sex of their child, but that meant
Speaker 1: he'd also have to carry the burden of sustaining the
Speaker 1: family business. Jay practices tantric astrology and astrology he refers
Speaker 1: to as white magic. It's about using esoteric knowledge to
Speaker 1: reduce people's pain and relieve them of their negative karmic pressures.
Speaker 1: It can mean reversing curses, preventing infidelities, fighting witchcraft, and
Speaker 1: as he tells me, there are fewer than one hundred
Speaker 1: people in all of India, maybe even half of that,
Speaker 1: who practice it. His father and grandfather did this work too,
Speaker 1: and every day he'd watch as they absorb people's pain.
Speaker 1: So I see people often coming to my great grandfather
Speaker 1: and my father. They used to cry scree. J did
Speaker 1: this for eighteen years and then he left. He couldn't
Speaker 1: take the emotional toll. He hated that people would come
Speaker 1: to him and ask him to use tantric astrology for
Speaker 1: these evil reasons, to lure across against their will, or
Speaker 1: to put a curse on someone, things that went against
Speaker 1: the ethics that his grandfather and father practiced. So he fled.
Speaker 1: He went to the UK. He got a good job
Speaker 1: in fashion and marketing and merchandising. But however far he ran,
Speaker 1: he just couldn't get away my great grandfather, he called me,
Speaker 1: you might be in London these days, but I will
Speaker 1: be dying by September nine, two nine, and you are
Speaker 1: supposed to be here to take care of your father,
Speaker 1: and you cannot take your coma. For him, it was
Speaker 1: an act of devotion, seating his own dreams for his family,
Speaker 1: because his love for his father and his grandfather was
Speaker 1: that strong. But before he could accept the mantle, his
Speaker 1: father had one final test for him. You know, I
Speaker 1: wish to explain about an incident my great dad who
Speaker 1: taught me how to live and how to be ethically right,
Speaker 1: to have the good rapper, good people the only question
Speaker 1: he asked me. Then I looked that. I shudder when
Speaker 1: I hear this. His dad wanted Vijay to predict his
Speaker 1: time of death. It feels cruel, masochistic. I mean, there
Speaker 1: are things you just don't want to know. And the
Speaker 1: idea of being forced to tell your parents when they're
Speaker 1: going to die, let alone being forced to be accurate
Speaker 1: about it, I can't fathom it. But Vijay's dad was
Speaker 1: asking him to put his craft over his emotion, to
Speaker 1: tell his brain to eclipse his heart. And I was shanton.
Speaker 1: I was just looking at him like that. And he
Speaker 1: told me, now I'm asking you. You see a Jay
Speaker 1: who'd already questioned whether this was the right line of
Speaker 1: work for his life, for his happiness, had to summon
Speaker 1: all his courage and look his father in the eye
Speaker 1: and tell him, Dad, you will have a kist between
Speaker 1: fulfill much twenty one kill twenty first. It was one
Speaker 1: of the hardest moments in Vijay's life, but for his dad,
Speaker 1: it was everything he wanted for his son. Then my
Speaker 1: dad told me, you'll be a you know, a worthful person,
Speaker 1: and you'll do great, great things. But unfortunately I lost
Speaker 1: my great dad, who is my group and my mentor
Speaker 1: onto March two on my lap. I'm sure there are
Speaker 1: moments as an astrologer where you just don't want to
Speaker 1: be right, and my heart breaks for him, But in
Speaker 1: some strange way, I also envy him. Vijay knew the
Speaker 1: exact moment his father would die. He didn't have to
Speaker 1: watch his father writhing in pain, wondering how long it
Speaker 1: would go on, or make a decision about when to
Speaker 1: give him the morphine to let him go. So I
Speaker 1: asked him about the power of his craft, these remedies
Speaker 1: he uses to help other people, and if he could
Speaker 1: have healed his father or pos we postpone that death.
Speaker 1: If that does me return in their child, no war,
Speaker 1: what sheep or no you know, embodies can't save her life.
Speaker 1: His glassy eyes betrayed the emotional distance and astrologer is
Speaker 1: supposed to keep. But as he talks, it occurs to
Speaker 1: me that I too, am the bearer of a lineage,
Speaker 1: the first son of a first son who was also
Speaker 1: desperately prayed for. And what were the responsibilities I ignored
Speaker 1: and the duties I turned my back on that led
Speaker 1: me to this room here. Chapter three, Backscratch. This is
Speaker 1: the main road to gin how, but you'll never spot
Speaker 1: it unless you know where you're going. In fact, it's
Speaker 1: been so many years now that seras the wonderful driver
Speaker 1: I've hired, and I have to pull over to ask
Speaker 1: for directions to landmarks nearby. Finally we find this little
Speaker 1: gate with a watchman sitting, and then the long dirt
Speaker 1: drive into pure greenery. To me, Gin House has always
Speaker 1: felt like this secret garden, and it doesn't take long
Speaker 1: for the chaos of the business district to disappear behind you.
Speaker 1: The house probably isn't what you're expecting. It's a mid
Speaker 1: century home, minimalist elegance in red and white, with a
Speaker 1: welcoming veranda and beautifully kept lawns and gardens. On one hand,
Speaker 1: the place is simple. It's just three bedrooms and a kitchen,
Speaker 1: with the center hall that works as both living and
Speaker 1: dining room, but it's set in this oasis. The veranda
Speaker 1: looks out onto this beautiful lawn, perfect fatigues and receptions,
Speaker 1: and Batman the roof doubles his dance floor or a
Speaker 1: launch pad for paper airplanes over the next few hours,
Speaker 1: I'll wander the grounds. The housekeeper, who's been instructed to
Speaker 1: make me lunch all of my favorites will overfeed me
Speaker 1: the same way my granddaunt would have insisted. All lays
Speaker 1: on a couch and thumb through books because there are
Speaker 1: so many books here in every room, And I'll sit
Speaker 1: on the veranda, just staring and thinking. Decades ago, i'd
Speaker 1: sit on this veranda in the early evenings with my
Speaker 1: grandfather when he break from his writing, and pour himself
Speaker 1: a small peck of whiskey, and we trade stories as
Speaker 1: we watched out into the monsoons. This is where he
Speaker 1: told me to always carry a pen with me, to
Speaker 1: make sure I could write down my ideas at any moment.
Speaker 1: It's something I still do. This is where I learned
Speaker 1: about how much he loved my dad about us. Sometimes
Speaker 1: he'd squeeze him too hard because he couldn't express his love.
Speaker 1: And this is where I first heard the story about
Speaker 1: the backscratch. We all still tell it. I tell it,
Speaker 1: and this is how it starts. When my dad was
Speaker 1: just a kid, just seven or eight, my grandfather came
Speaker 1: in from out of town and sat next to him
Speaker 1: on a bed Shanta, my sister tells it. The story
Speaker 1: goes about Baja was traveling for work a lot and
Speaker 1: back and forth to Goah, so I don't think he
Speaker 1: was able to really be there that often. And so
Speaker 1: one day he came to visit Dad and they were
Speaker 1: sitting on the edge of the bed and just talking. Ruby,
Speaker 1: my kid, tells it, so when also was about seven
Speaker 1: or eight, he was lying in bed and his dad
Speaker 1: just came in from out of town. And he came
Speaker 1: and he sunnis in his bed and said, my dad,
Speaker 1: you know, and I'm trying to be the best father
Speaker 1: and it's hard going up with our mom, But is
Speaker 1: there anything I can do for you? Is there anything
Speaker 1: that's missing? Thought? And he thought, and then he finally said,
Speaker 1: you know, I've just fend When his back itches, his
Speaker 1: mom comes and scratches it for him, and heered off
Speaker 1: and he starts scratching my dad's back for longer than
Speaker 1: the little type needed. But Joe was so heartbroken to
Speaker 1: hear that. And then he's just thinking, my sons growing
Speaker 1: up without a mother. This is such a simple thing,
Speaker 1: this last thing I can do free and just sat
Speaker 1: and scratched his back. No. Chapter four ashes see it.
Speaker 1: It's February sixteen, twenty twenty three. We're on a boat
Speaker 1: on the Indian Ocean, not far from Colba Beach in
Speaker 1: South Koa. It's where my dad used to spend his
Speaker 1: weekends as a kid. It's my mom, my wife, the kids,
Speaker 1: and my aunts, someone all here together, and my dad.
Speaker 1: Of course. We've got his ashes in a glorified shoe
Speaker 1: box that's printed to look like a clip art version
Speaker 1: of Heaven. I guess the waves are mild this morning,
Speaker 1: and the water is so blue. We spot pods of
Speaker 1: dolphins frolicking in the waters and racing alongside us. Do
Speaker 1: you see him? There's this flock of seabirds flying in front.
Speaker 1: They stayed just ahead of us, like they're pulling us
Speaker 1: away from the sun kissed coast threaded with coconut trees
Speaker 1: and into something even more serene. We don't talk. I
Speaker 1: look at my mom and aunt tearing up. My son,
Speaker 1: Henry is crying and he's in Lizzie's arms. Meanwhile, Ruby
Speaker 1: thinks this is a joy ride, arms up in the air.
Speaker 1: I jew wouldn't want us to be sad, as they
Speaker 1: put it, and Ruby's right in a way. After a
Speaker 1: few minutes of more intentional silence, where we sit rock
Speaker 1: gently by the waves and our feelings. My mom and
Speaker 1: I climbed to the very back of the boat. She
Speaker 1: asked me to sing a chant when she can't muster one.
Speaker 1: My dad loved Jay said a good nick and and
Speaker 1: we lean over the railing to say goodbye one final time.
Speaker 1: Said I still don't believe in astrology. But doctor VJ,
Speaker 1: the tent trick astrologer i'd visited, and I had told
Speaker 1: me I would carry my grief for seven more months.
Speaker 1: It would be seven more months before I'd finally be
Speaker 1: myself again. You will find up v took hold of this.
Speaker 1: Are you a lorny laying what you are? That was August.
Speaker 1: It's the end of February. Now, by the time I'm
Speaker 1: back in the States, seven months will have passed. Chapter five,
Speaker 1: The first hardest thing. This is April twenty twenty two.
Speaker 1: Doctor Kumar's prediction about my father falling ill had come true,
Speaker 1: and I'd raced down to Atlanta a few times to
Speaker 1: be with him. Pitt. Now I'm saying bye to my
Speaker 1: dad as I head back to New York. This is
Speaker 1: him and his lazy boy with a bowl of the
Speaker 1: status on his stomach and a mystery paperback by his
Speaker 1: side were both smiling. Because the doctor has a plan.
Speaker 1: The KINGMO should give him three months. There's a chance
Speaker 1: he'll have much longer. This is me getting a call
Speaker 1: that very same night, soon after my plane hit the
Speaker 1: tarmac at LaGuardia, that my father had to be rushed
Speaker 1: to the emergency room. This is him, days later, still
Speaker 1: in the hospital, telling my sister that I can't make
Speaker 1: you happy and I can't make sad. This is him
Speaker 1: holding my mom's hand, telling her over and over how
Speaker 1: beautiful she is, telling her she's always been his only So.
Speaker 1: This is me walking into the hospital to relieve my mom.
Speaker 1: It's my turn to spend the night with him, but
Speaker 1: my mom tells me that the fight is over, that
Speaker 1: my only mission is to bring him home so he
Speaker 1: can pass amongst his loved ones. This is me signing
Speaker 1: the forum for hospice, knowing that when the morphine kicks in,
Speaker 1: it'll knock him out. These will be my last moments
Speaker 1: with him conscious. Do you know who's waiting at home
Speaker 1: for you? You don't know? Do you want to see Barkley?
Speaker 1: This is me shaving him one last time. I'm just
Speaker 1: going to shave a little bit on your face, Okay, there,
Speaker 1: barber style. I use a warm washcloth to soften the
Speaker 1: subtle I gently lather his face. I take my time
Speaker 1: with each stroke. This is me putting my cologne on him.
Speaker 1: Do you remember that I used to put after shave
Speaker 1: on me. Yeah. He used to laugh and joke and
Speaker 1: tell stories as I watched him shave as a kid.
Speaker 1: And then he'd spray assent into the heel of his
Speaker 1: palms and rub them into my cheek and tiny circles,
Speaker 1: warning me of how it might sting. This is me
Speaker 1: playing a messages, an old going song from his sister
Speaker 1: and nephew, a message from my aunt's summer, so much,
Speaker 1: so much, some whispers of things I needed him to know,
Speaker 1: and hoping he hears. You know, you know we love
Speaker 1: you so much? Right, Yeah, you know you're a wonderful dad.
Speaker 1: This is me in the back of an Atlanta Everyone's
Speaker 1: taking him home. This is me staring out into traffic,
Speaker 1: collecting out the back window, caressing his hair, pushing it
Speaker 1: across his forehead, cripping his hand repeatedly, desperately trying to
Speaker 1: communicate my love with each squeeze, not knowing what's getting through.
Speaker 1: This is me tracing my fingertips gently down his papery skin,
Speaker 1: kissing his forehead, scratching his back gently for way too
Speaker 1: long because I still can epilogue. This is my friend Aj,
Speaker 1: all types of interesting. Way back at the beginning of
Speaker 1: the show, he told me curiosity and gratitude for my
Speaker 1: two favorite virtues, and I agree. I think both lead
Speaker 1: to a richer life. There was always so much to
Speaker 1: be curious about, so much to be grateful for. But
Speaker 1: as I try finally to end this show, I keep
Speaker 1: thinking about another drive. In twenty seventeen, we'd just moved
Speaker 1: to Atlanta so I could take a job in podcasting.
Speaker 1: That Thanksgiving, we headed up nine five to my cousin Shanta's,
Speaker 1: to be with my parents and sister and cousins and dogs.
Speaker 1: Everyone was just so happy, cooking together, making gingerbread houses,
Speaker 1: drinking cider, wandering through a farm, the saw down the
Speaker 1: perfect Christmas tree. And then when the weekend was over
Speaker 1: and it was finally time to say goodbye and the
Speaker 1: anxiety of a new work week had started to settle in,
Speaker 1: Lizzie turned to me and she said, why don't we
Speaker 1: skip by nine? Why don't we take the long way home?
Speaker 1: That afternoon, we drove across Skyline Drive, the famous Skyline Drive,
Speaker 1: the one that stitches a path along the edge of
Speaker 1: the Blue Ridge Mountains as you drive through the Shenandoah
Speaker 1: National Park. At the time, our kids were seven and four,
Speaker 1: and back then when they used to ask how long
Speaker 1: till we get there? Lizzie and I would relay the
Speaker 1: time in episodes of the PBS show Arthur, like it's
Speaker 1: five Arthurs till we're home, which meant two and a
Speaker 1: half hours. But somehow, on this hundred mile parkway, we
Speaker 1: didn't have to answer that question once. We just marveled
Speaker 1: at all the red and yellow painted across the treetops,
Speaker 1: and the fog that rolled in and out across the
Speaker 1: blue and purple mountaintops, and the way the light played
Speaker 1: favorites with parts of the valley below and somewhere along
Speaker 1: the way. As the kids started to nod off and
Speaker 1: Lizzie squeezed my hand, and as we watched the sunset,
Speaker 1: I realized who I became in that moment, in the
Speaker 1: driver's seat, steering an endless road, And I know who
Speaker 1: I can be I don't have to waste time endlessly
Speaker 1: obsessing about the future. I can choose moments like this,
Speaker 1: the ones that make my heart leap. I can choose
Speaker 1: the long way home over and over and never regret it.
Speaker 1: And I can fill the time I have left because
Speaker 1: I understand how precious that time is with a series
Speaker 1: of Skyline Drives. I am, it's all tree. Are we
Speaker 1: pluck a wheelow muscars are hiding, register show you silence,
Speaker 1: all all tree with roots like a new bone. Your
Speaker 1: wind is blowing and overa go, and now I see
Speaker 1: a storm cloud up in the distance, A terrible old man,
Speaker 1: A beautiful show. So take me down, easy, Take me
Speaker 1: down easy, Let me land softly back in your arm,
Speaker 1: your sac Oh man. I cannot thank you enough for
Speaker 1: listening to the show. Like all podcasts, our show grows
Speaker 1: through word of mouth. So if you'd liked Skyline Drive,
Speaker 1: tell a friend, post about it on social media, or
Speaker 1: write as a little review. We read them all because
Speaker 1: we are obsessives and a few of us are geminis,
Speaker 1: and also we just like the feedback. Also, there's been
Speaker 1: too much crying, so anna give us a dope eat.
Speaker 1: Skyline Drive is a production of Kaleidoscope and iHeart Podcast.
Speaker 1: If you like the show, you should know my incredible
Speaker 1: team carried me across the finish line. So thank you
Speaker 1: so much to Mary Philip Sandy, our supervising producer, Mitra
Speaker 1: bunsha He, our producer, Mark Lotto, my story editor, and
Speaker 1: Anna Rubinovo, who produced and elevated the sound of all
Speaker 1: of these shows along with through chivalrou and soundboard. I
Speaker 1: am truly indebted to all of you. Everyone keeps asking
Speaker 1: me about the theme song bought me AKA Spencer Stevenson
Speaker 1: wrote the gorgeous score for this season. Also, I'm so
Speaker 1: grateful to the musicians whose music lifted me in my
Speaker 1: very lowest moments before I started writing, including him, Monshu
Speaker 1: Suri who read the episode, Warning Mo and Azidi Records,
Speaker 1: Peter Matthew Bauer Rogin their Alap moment, Vinnie Desai Lush
Speaker 1: Life Motor Sales, and James Henry Junior, whose stunning, stunning
Speaker 1: song closed out this episode. Also my aunt Indu Gersape
Speaker 1: and my cousin Annam Gersape for singing that beautiful go
Speaker 1: In folk song. Thank you to Simon and Arjun Buckshee,
Speaker 1: all the participants, Gene Michelle Annie George and our house
Speaker 1: as frologers, Doctor Kumar and Janelle Belgrave. The show is
Speaker 1: executive produce for iHeart by Nicky Tour and Katrina Norville.
Speaker 1: Thank you to my partners at Kaleidoscope, especially Oswaylshan who
Speaker 1: encouraged me to tell this story and gave me the
Speaker 1: room to tell it as we co founded this business,
Speaker 1: but also Kate Osbourne and cost Us Leno's. Thank you
Speaker 1: to our investors and board for backing this crazy project.
Speaker 1: Thank you to Vagney Shory for managing the social media
Speaker 1: for this show. On top of everything else, special thanks
Speaker 1: to Ali, Nathan Conall, Will and Bob at iHeart. I
Speaker 1: want to give my family some extra love, but especially
Speaker 1: Lizzie and Henry and Ruby and also Sara than Shampa
Speaker 1: and as always a big big thank you to my
Speaker 1: Ama and my dad, Lalita and Omesh who I thank
Speaker 1: my lucky stars for I'm mungish together. Thank you so
Speaker 1: so much for listening. Sounds Carol usually are sometimes I'm
Speaker 1: times sometimes sometimes imme he sometimes sometimes sometimes I'm times
Speaker 1: sometimes sometimes sometimes sometimes times, sometimes I'm sometimes i'mtimes, I'm
Speaker 1: sometimes sometimes i'm sometimes I'm pass to fits Sometimes I
Speaker 1: pass to fit. Sometimes I stay sober. Sometimes it's pass
Speaker 1: to fit. Sometimes I'm pasting in, sometimes I'm making it.
Speaker 1: Sometimes I got the ship, sometimes I'm lacking it. Get
Speaker 1: low man, there'll be too much danity. How to live
Speaker 1: life for my life water way usiness, and how a
Speaker 1: live man in my reality. Always I've been using more
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