Letters to Ira Glass

A Blog Devoted to Writing Letters to Ira Glass of This American Life

1,689 notes

whydoihaveablog: svnnh: This is my dad, Derek Pendleton. (He’s adorable, right?) He’s a sculptor- an amazing and exceptional artist that is painfully modest at times. For over a decade, he’s worked in the Motion Picture Industry mainly putting his work into the great backdrops and pieces that bring a scene together. However, lately, he hasn’t worked. My dad was diagnosed with Thoracic Outlet Syndrome in August of 2005. By December, he had an operation to remove his first rib on his left side so it would alleviate some of the pain and the stress on his nerves. It took until February of 2006 to be “healed” enough to go back to work. On his fourth job back (yes, fourth, that’s how the business works) there was an accident. He fell 12 feet off a ladder, crushing his calcaneus bone (the heel) of his right foot and breaking his ankle and cracking a few ribs in the process. That was August 23, 2006. It’s been 4 years since my dad has had a job. He is the sole bread-winner in my family because my Mom has a slew of other medical problems- she is a cervical cancer survivor and she suffers from Lupus (and has her whole life), both have put her under the knife a total of 5 times and has almost died twice because of anaphylaxis from ingesting a medicine she/we/the doctors didn’t know she would be allergic to. (One is Penicillin. Damn, this story is hardcore, right?) Anyway, my mom chose the stay-at-home route since there are 3 of us and it was just easier on her body. My parents have taken personal loans from some pretty great friends… and me. I worked as full time as I could and tried to, at the same time, zip through school at full time status. It was worth it. Dad’s been able to finagle some side jobs, here and there- some bigger projects than others. Some paid decent money, some paid enough to just get a good cart of groceries. But we have debt and rent and bills. We financially couldn’t catch up. He finally got a big break and was invited to go to New Orleans earlier this year to work on a blockbuster but was only able to stay 9 weeks. His leg and his arm were giving up, giving out, and in horrific pain. That’s the unfortunate thing about my dad: he’s a broken man. He will never get to go back to doing what he used to do. His nerves are twisted, crimped, shot. His career was over at 43 years old. Now 47, he feels like a dried up old man with nothing left to give. The thing is: he’s ABLE; he needs a break. He needs someone to just see his work and know he is capable. He needs a chance. His family, my family, has nothing but overdue bills and overdraft account. We need help. Desperately. He has worked with art his entire life, self-taught. He doesn’t have a college degree, but his talent and technique are the kind that you’re born with. He has “retrained” himself in the digital arts world. He’s become comfortable with ZBrush, Maya, Mudbox, Rhino, etc. My dad is amazing at model making and concept designs. He would be an incredible teacher because his knowledge is vast and his passion brings an energy brighter than the sun. Check it out. Listen, my dad is not a lost dog or a missing person- but Tumblr gods… please. I need the universe to help him out. PLEASE REBLOG THIS LONG ASS POST AND ASK YOUR FOLLOWERS TO REBLOG IT AND ASK THEM TO ASK THEIR FOLLOWERS TO REBLOG IT, ETC. If anything else, to at least feel like maybe I am sending a tiny vibration so a ball, any ball, can get rolling. Unemployment really, really sucks. It’s even harder to see your dad trying to pick himself back up by his bootstraps only on the verge of giving up because it’s more like spinning his wheels in the mud than moving a few inches. It would be one thing to not try- but he does, so hard. Not exaggerating, my family has one foot in a cardboard box and I’m not there to help them. This is the only way I have. Please help me try, too. Thank you very, very much.

whydoihaveablog:

svnnh:

This is my dad, Derek Pendleton. (He’s adorable, right?)

He’s a sculptor- an amazing and exceptional artist that is painfully modest at times.

For over a decade, he’s worked in the Motion Picture Industry mainly putting his work into the great backdrops and pieces that bring a scene together. However, lately, he hasn’t worked.

My dad was diagnosed with Thoracic Outlet Syndrome in August of 2005. By December, he had an operation to remove his first rib on his left side so it would alleviate some of the pain and the stress on his nerves. It took until February of 2006 to be “healed” enough to go back to work. On his fourth job back (yes, fourth, that’s how the business works) there was an accident. He fell 12 feet off a ladder, crushing his calcaneus bone (the heel) of his right foot and breaking his ankle and cracking a few ribs in the process. That was August 23, 2006.

It’s been 4 years since my dad has had a job. He is the sole bread-winner in my family because my Mom has a slew of other medical problems- she is a cervical cancer survivor and she suffers from Lupus (and has her whole life), both have put her under the knife a total of 5 times and has almost died twice because of anaphylaxis from ingesting a medicine she/we/the doctors didn’t know she would be allergic to. (One is Penicillin. Damn, this story is hardcore, right?) Anyway, my mom chose the stay-at-home route since there are 3 of us and it was just easier on her body.

My parents have taken personal loans from some pretty great friends… and me. I worked as full time as I could and tried to, at the same time, zip through school at full time status. It was worth it.

Dad’s been able to finagle some side jobs, here and there- some bigger projects than others. Some paid decent money, some paid enough to just get a good cart of groceries. But we have debt and rent and bills. We financially couldn’t catch up. He finally got a big break and was invited to go to New Orleans earlier this year to work on a blockbuster but was only able to stay 9 weeks. His leg and his arm were giving up, giving out, and in horrific pain.

That’s the unfortunate thing about my dad: he’s a broken man. He will never get to go back to doing what he used to do. His nerves are twisted, crimped, shot. His career was over at 43 years old. Now 47, he feels like a dried up old man with nothing left to give.

The thing is: he’s ABLE; he needs a break. He needs someone to just see his work and know he is capable. He needs a chance. His family, my family, has nothing but overdue bills and overdraft account. We need help. Desperately.

He has worked with art his entire life, self-taught. He doesn’t have a college degree, but his talent and technique are the kind that you’re born with. He has “retrained” himself in the digital arts world. He’s become comfortable with ZBrush, Maya, Mudbox, Rhino, etc. My dad is amazing at model making and concept designs. He would be an incredible teacher because his knowledge is vast and his passion brings an energy brighter than the sun. Check it out.

Listen, my dad is not a lost dog or a missing person- but Tumblr gods… please. I need the universe to help him out. PLEASE REBLOG THIS LONG ASS POST AND ASK YOUR FOLLOWERS TO REBLOG IT AND ASK THEM TO ASK THEIR FOLLOWERS TO REBLOG IT, ETC. If anything else, to at least feel like maybe I am sending a tiny vibration so a ball, any ball, can get rolling.

Unemployment really, really sucks. It’s even harder to see your dad trying to pick himself back up by his bootstraps only on the verge of giving up because it’s more like spinning his wheels in the mud than moving a few inches. It would be one thing to not try- but he does, so hard. Not exaggerating, my family has one foot in a cardboard box and I’m not there to help them. This is the only way I have. Please help me try, too.

Thank you very, very much.

1 note

Work work work

Dear Ira,

I just called my job. Well, that is to say, my old job. I didn’t recognize the voice on the phone, so I asked for another co-worker.

Then I recognized the voice. It was E, only E was sick as a dog. I remember those times - never taking a day off, always coming into work with one foot in the grave.

I originally called to find out if they saw that I had written about them in my book. I wanted to know if they read it. I wanted to know if they liked it.

But calling there just now, I realized how happy I am that I no longer have to work there.

It’s one of those places that you don’t realize that you’re in the mire or how deep you are in, until you are suddenly out.

E, if you are reading this, and I know you are not, you’re almost out. And I got 6 days of sick time stored up that I wish I could give you.

Ira, I hope you treat your employees right.

-Enna

Filed under this american life ira glass book a shallow girl's guide to reheating leftovers life

2 notes

Just Running Around the Board

Dear Ira,

Long time no talk, eh? Things have quieted down here. My fiance is working, I am working. Things are just chugging along.

Someone recently said that if they could sum up life, they would describe it as a game of Monopoly. Some days you win free parking, some days you go to jail, but most of the time, you are just working your way around the board.

That being said, I hate the game of Monopoly. Why would anyone want to play that game? I never understood that.”Hey kids! It’s the game of commerce! Except you have to buy property and not anything cool that a normal 8 year old would want to buy! Gee whiz it sounds like fun!”

In other news, I have been asked to speak to a high school class about my career choice. What should I say, Ira? “Hey kids, did you know that getting a book published is good for the prestige, but otherwise, don’t expect to get paid a whole heck of a lot. Definitely not enough for coke and hookers for the next year, let alone the rest of your life.”

Ok, maybe I should leave out the coke. Parents don’t like their childrens’ speakers to talk about coke. I think.

Pondering the street value of narcotics,

Enna

Filed under this american life ira glass letters to ira glass high school

8 notes

Dear Ira, I am having a hard time resisting the urge to make a “sit on your face” joke here… *giggles* Enna

Dear Ira,

I am having a hard time resisting the urge to make a “sit on your face” joke here…

*giggles*

Enna

4 notes

Rejected by This American Life: Rejection. A dish best served by Ira Glass.

In the Fall of 2008 I decided to apply for an internship at This American Life. I lived and breathed NPR and was living abroad for a year. During that time, This American Life was my comfort food. I not only listened religiously every week, but I would listen to at least 1 episode from the…

Dear Ira,

THERE’S A BLOG FOR EVERYTHING NOW. Including people you have rejected.

Wow Ira,

Enna