Nom du Père

that I honed into gifts. That's Sherry Turkle. Sherry is a professor at m I T, where she is also founding director of the m I T Initiative on Technology and Self. Her most recent book is The Empathy Diaries, a memoir. Sherry's is a layered story of many secrets and swumming at the center of them all, a massive secret she is asked to keep from the time she's a a small child, one that slices to the core

of her identity. I'm Danny Shapiro, and this is family secrets, the secrets that are kept from us, the secrets we keep from others, and the secrets we keep from ourselves. There were two landscapes of my childhood. There was a Brooklyn landscape and a Rockaway landscape. We lived in Brooklyn, in the Flatbush section of Brooklyn, which were wonderful streets with grocery stores and hardware stores and five and dimes and richly textured urban environment. We lived near Prospect Park, Okay,

so there was a playground and great grounds. And Brooklyn of my youth was a wonderful place for children. We bounced balls and played Jack's on the sidewalk, and there were hardly any cars, and it was really a very idyllic street life, a kind of urban street life. It made me love the texture of city life. But in the house, the boundaries of our home, it was a life where no strangers were allowed in the house. On the other hand, at Rockaway, where we went in the summer,

we had the beach Um. Rockaway was very close to Brooklyn. We went to the end of Church Avenue, and very soon you were crossing a bridge and you were in this state of land that was a world away from Brooklyn, a kind of summer retreat for lower middle class of working people in New York City. I think we paid eighty dollars a season for our bungalow. In this bungalow colony, you'd have eight or ten bungalows, five facing each other, with a court that had three cement pavers that made

up this courtyard. And the social life of the summer was organized around these ten bungalows in this court. And there would be fireworks on the boardwalk on Wednesday, and there would be maybe a party in the court once a week, and that you played with the children in the court. There was a generational thing where the older people in the court watched the babies, you know, and the teenager babies that for the younger children, and everybody

played majong, and everybody played cards. We amused each other by singing to each other. It was really quite another time, and this would have been in the in the fifties. Again we had a court, we had neighbors. It was a much more social world. But my grandparents were intensely private and the life of our family was really enclosed in the world of our family. So even though we lived in a beach setting, we knew all the people in that little court. No one came onto our porch

or into our home. We spoke porch to porch. So my childhood was a combination of seeing people in social spaces on the street, but really understanding that my family was very turned inwards and lived a life of secrets and privacy and almost kind of hyper vigilance, as though we had secrets to hide, and we were just in our family and didn't let people in. This not allowing strangers in or anyone else in and staying on your porch and talking to other people from that distance, was

that particular to you. I always knew that we were special because we were keeping secrets. The secrets in Sherry's family started out relatively small. The lies seemingly innocuous and silly, stuff like her mother lied about her height or her age. One time, her mom tried to pass off a store bought knit beret a gift to Sherry, as something she had knit herself. Even as a child, Sherry had the sense that something was off. She knew she couldn't totally

trust the things her mother said or did. My world of secrets begins with my mother's character and my mother's ability, which I understood in so many ways, um to live in the truth that pleased her. So for example, she was five eleven or perhaps six ft tall. She was very tall, and she didn't make her peace with that until she found out that said Teris was five eleven, and then somehow she admitted to me that she was

five eleven. She explained to me that when she was a single woman, every time she went to get her license renewed, she would explain to the women at the Bureau of Motor Vehicles that she needed to shave some inches off her height, because a single woman shouldn't be five eleven. It's easier to get a husband if you were five ten, or five nine or five eight. I never quite understood that, but she had gotten herself down to five seven, which was preposterous. By the time she died,

I actually looked in her handbag. I mean she was down to five seven, which, as I say, was preposterous because she was a beautiful, tall, magnificent woman. And she had also gotten her age down to kind of a permanent twenty nine. She was twenty nine when she married my father, and she was twenty nine six years later

when she when she married her second husband. And again the way this was done, which was kind of by just explaining to the women at the registrate for motor vehicles, you know that she just needed to be younger to catch a husband, or to not far to make her husband feel more comfortable with her age. I don't know

how she did it, but she aged very little. According to the records the New York Records Department, the film she told about the hat is particularly interesting, and there was I have a very clear memory of her coming to pick me up. I was at my grandparents house and she shows me this white hat that she's this little knit hat that she said she had knit for me, and I had seen it in a five and ten store near my grandparents home, and I knew she hadn't knitted,

and I didn't know what to do. I was kind of paralyzed because I didn't understand, you know. I think I said thank you, but it upset me for years and years and years, this lie and seeing her as as somebody who would tell lies that I couldn't understand. I couldn't understand their meaning or why. I kind of understood why she wanted to be shorter or younger, but

why this hat, Why the hat. Indeed, what Sherry couldn't have realized at the time when she was given that hat at the age of eight, was that her mother had been coming from a doctor's appointment at which she had received a scary diagnosis. So when she was coming home from the doctor to pick Sherry up from her grandparents house, she saw the knit cap at the five and dime and decided to bring her daughter a gift.

But what came out of her mouth when she presented it, perhaps as a way of connecting with Sherry during a worrying time, was I made this for you. I'm so struck by your mother's fantasies and her aspirations, but more than anything, her ability to bend the world to her will. She wanted to be a mother who would have knit that cap for you, So she became that in that moment. My guess is that she was not aware at all

that she was lying. In that moment, she just decided that that was so, the same way she decided she wasn't five eleven, or that she was twenty nine. Yes. Yes, in these moments, she was taken up by how she wanted the world to be. I think that's exactly right, that she was capable of becoming house she wanted to could be, and being the person she wanted to be. You know, in technical terms, they say that you know the neurotic style of hysteric is that they believe their wish,

the lies they tell is the deepest possible wish. And I think that these wishes really structured her, her character, These wishes for herself, these wishes for me, really became who she was, really became who she was. It's striking me too that you know, when you were a child, you lived in a Kosher style um and what that meant was that in the home there wasn't work, and there wasn't shrimp, and you know, there wasn't seafood and milk and dairy and meat would be I suppose not

eaten together. But when you would go out, particularly on Sundays, the Jewish ritual of going out for Chinese food on Sundays, that you know, all bets were off, like apparently in Chinese restaurants, pork was okay. Yes, these were my grandmother's ways putting the world together. But the Kosher laws meant was what you did in your home is where these kosher laws applied. And then what you did outside that

was a completely different story. None of the rules needed to apply there, so pork on the outside didn't count as breaking the rules. And again it's making the world fit the way you want the world to be. It's very my family. In my family, certainly people constructed the world the way they wanted it to be. Beyond knit hats and secret pork, the greatest secret at the center of Sherry's childhood was her her own identity, her very name.

My name was Sherry Zimmerman, and I hadn't seen that name or heard that name really until I started school, and legally that name had to be on a piece of paper. But I was just part of the Bonnerwits clan, which was my family name by my grandparents name. My mother had divorced my father, whose name was Charles Zimmerman, and when she went back to live with her parents, Robert and Edith Bonnowitz, I was just Erry. I was told that I was never to mention my father or

his name. They were constructing a world in which, because your mother was divorced when you were very young, and divorce was quite uncommon in that milieu, that somehow simply you didn't have a father, and you weren't allowed to speak or even know anything really about this mysterious person and who had been your father and had briefly been your mother's husband. His name was never said. I knew not to say it or ask anything. It was one

of those things that it was completely foreclosed. It was not you know, it was not like you could ask a question and be told we're not talking about that. You just knew not to ask. We'll be back in a moment with more family secrets. Sherry's mother remarries a man named Milton Turkle, and together they have two children. These kids think that Sherry is their biological sister, while Sherry silently carries the truth of where she comes from.

So often when secrets are kept, there are times when one is asked to become a secret keeper, and you're at child, you're being told you must keep something as fundamental as your name a secret, and you live in fear of slipping up. There are a few incidents, were a few moments when I do slip up. Not many,

but there's one in particular when I do. And it's at a girl scout meeting and we're going around, and you know, we're asked to say our name, and I say that my name is Sherry Zimmerman, and my mother is stricken. She clearly doesn't know what to do. I mean, it isn't that she's angry. Of course she is angry, but more than angry, I've outed her. She doesn't know

what to do. Looking back, I have pity on myself actually because I realized the terrible weight that I was holding, because when I slipped up, the pain that I caused was terrible, and the pain being uttering your real name. Yes, I mean that the gesture was so tiny, it's so natural that I did it. I meant no harm. You know, I was tired. It was an evening to meeting, and

i'd all day. I had been Sherry' Zimmerman at the school that was kind of out of the way, and you know, I was sort of sent to a school as far away as possible from from where our social life was. And yet at this meeting, I don't know. I just said the truth, and the truth was it was an impossible truth. It was truly a secret. I mean it wasn't like a little secret. It was a secret that would fracture this family that was built on

a lie. And I really have such pity and compassion for myself and for her, who couldn't make a life where this could be known, who felt that she couldn't do that. It's so interesting too that you did have that slip. It was in front of your mother. Could it could have been somewhere else, It could have been in some other circumstance where your mother hadn't been in the room, But it happened when your mother was in the room. Yes, and many psychoanalyzes later. I mean I thought,

on some level, was that an act of rebellion. I'll never know, but there's there's obviously some part of that could have been wanting to somehow have some moment of truth with her. But what happened, Danny, what happened and was so telling, was that she didn't yell at me. She didn't speak of it. We didn't speak for I think two weeks. And this was a woman who was talking to me all the time. I you know, we were talking and talking in our you know, our way

of relating was to tell stories and talk. I mean, I got my love of language from my mother. She couldn't to me for two weeks, and it wasn't really in anger. It was really because she didn't know what to say. This was so fundamental, this secret was so fundamental. I mean, she i don't think she knew how to handle it. In her circle. She was my troop leader.

She was the leader of this girl's got true. And I think it really raised the question for her as to whether or not she was going to start to tell people or And I think what happened was that people sort of start, you know, put two and two together, and they sort of I think this was a secret that many people knew about. But she just let people

assume what they wanted to and never confronted him. After Sherry is not so Freudian slip, Milton and Sherry's mother decide it's time to pursue Sherry's official adoption, for her to take Milton's name. That will make things simpler, right, But there's this all matter of Charles Zimmerman, who objects to the adoption and insists on seeing her. Sherry visits her biological father a few times until her mother puts a stop to the visits. Of course, Sherry yearns to

know him. At the custody hearing, the judge turns to her and asks the question, do you love your father? I was afraid to say no, I don't love my father. I mean I didn't want to never see him again. So I said, yes, I love him, and then I immediately saw my mother turn her face away since this was just it was like the worst thing that I could have said. And so the judge then says, go

over and kiss him. And I made to kiss Charles Zimmerman, and that I look again at my mother, who's again averting her eyes, and I'm taken out of the room. This was actually one of the for me, most terrible incidents of my childhood, because what had taught me is that you have a decision. Any choice is the wrong choice, because if I had said I didn't love Charles Immerman, I would never have seen my father again. And if I said I loved him, well, my mother was stricken.

And it turned out that I didn't get to see Charles Zimmerman much. I saw him maybe once or twice again, and then my mother found another way to put a stop to it. I mean, my mother was determined that I would not see him very much. She had her own reasons to be frightened at him, which I learned later. Remember how Sherry's mother had received a frightening diagnosis just before buying her that knit hat, Well, that was yet

another family secret, the secret of her mother's cancer. It was very common in those days to hide illness from children and even other family members. Doctors and the medical establishment believed this was for the best. Sherry's mother receives a mass ectomy and undergoes treatment. The Cherry doesn't know

or see. You write something that I was particularly taken with, which is when we don't want to know the truth, we don't hear the truth spoken to us, or we don't see what's playing as a day in front of our eyes because we can't afford to yes. That whole story of my mother's cancer and how it unfolded, which really was over a nine year period from her diagnosis to her death, is really a story of my being given a tremendous We're having access to a great deal

of information and not putting it together. She didn't want me to know because she wanted me to go away to college. This was her focus. She knew. But if I knew that she was as ill as she was, I wouldn't have gone away to college. I would have lived at home, and I would have wanted to commute to a college in New York City. I mean, I just would have That was the nature of my relationship

with her. Sherry does indeed go away to college, to Radcliffe in Cambridge, Massachusetts, the university that has long been her dream. She's a brilliant student and finally is exactly where she wants to be. But then in her junior year, during exam week, she receives a call that changes her life. I get a you know, a note from the dean, and they bring it to me in the library. Call home, go home, Go to Brooklyn Hospital. There's no one at

home to call. Go to Brooklyn Hospital, and I just go and I talked to a doctor, and as we have a kind of miscommunication, I realize he's telling me my mother has ten days to live. And I realized I behave as though I'm listening to new information, and part of me knows that I know. And I've never

forgotten that feeling. I've never forgotten that feeling of almost pretending that I'm learning something new and not knowing if I'm pretending I'm learning something new or am I It was just an out of body experience, and that feeling has never left me. I can read, I can summon it even as we speak. I was given so many clues that she was ill, and yet I didn't know

she was ill. But when I find out, when I'm told she's ill, I almost have to pretend I'm surprised, because part of me obviously knows and has known something was in this, and it only raises that question of what we know. We can't say you know what's unconscious. I want to say it was unconscious, because really, if you would say, as your mom ill, I would have said no, and I behaved as though she was not. Sherry's mother dies, and after her death, the dynamic between

Sherry and Milton Turkle grows ever more fraught. He refuses to do the paperwork that would allow her to have clearance for her senior year scholarship at Radcliffe. He wants her to stop going to school so she can stand in for her mother and care for her younger siblings. I think he saw no way forward raising these two children.

They were aid and eleven by himself. I think he thought that was completely beyond him, and he saw me as the Not only was I to see could keeper, but I was considered sort of the adult in the family. I was the designated adult, which was another actually a great burden, you know, if there was a handyman coming, if there was a you know, I was sent to, you know, sort of make sure he did a good

job and pay him and get the receipt. And I was kind of the person who was most even when a child, who was considered most most capable to sort of deal with the outside world. And this was my family being very insular, the shadow of the Holocaust being weighing very heavily on them. They're wanting to keep to themselves. And in this case, I mean, I just think he felt he could not imagine being in charge of what was ahead for him. He used the phrase you in

the old country, the eldest daughter would do it. It just was it was his kind of way of summing up that there was a way of thinking about this where it was a natural thing for me to take this on. I no longer think of it as malevolent. I think it was deeply selfish. I think it was him not being able to put himself in my place. It was the anti empathy moment of it was my learning empathy by having someone behaved there's no empathy towards me. But I don't know if he wanted to be cruel

to me. I think he felt bereft. I think when people feel bereft, they just behave in a crazy way and what they see as their self interest. And I think that's what's happening with with Milton and his response to me, and so he kind of pulls the ultimate power play and I just leave. In fact, I dropped out of college, but I don't come home to take care of my sister and brother. I go to Paris.

There's kind of running through your story something that I relate to, which is that it's really a story of survivor, of you know, sort of ultimately, you might have gone home and taken care of your younger brother and sister, and that would have completely altered the course of your life. And you don't you do what's necessary to survive and to thrive. Yes, we'll be right back. Sherry does eventually end up finishing her undergrad and soon after attends graduate

school at Harvard, where she studies sociology and psychology. This is where she first encounters the seminal concept gname duper name of the father, as developed by French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacom. Like you when people say to me will psychoanalysis is so passe, the notion of the unconscious? Why do you become a psychoagonal? Why do it psycho one of the training?

What's the use of it? I always say, well, there's no way for me to experience the story of my life and not believe in the unconscious, because I was working through all my life, including yesterday, the fact that I was not allowed to know the name of my father, and yet I never made the connection until deep into

my life. That the first serious topic that I study in graduate school when it's time to write a thesis a dissertation is a psychoanalyst whose theory is based on the importance of the name of the father who Jacques dot Com and I never made that connection. Thesis was not particularly on the CON's theories on the infatuation with Freud and France and why after May sixty eight did everyone want to become a psychoanalyst. So it was really kind of sociological study. It was kind of an intellectual

history mystery. Was a very exciting thesis of you know, why certain ideas take hold at different times. I never put together that I was studying somebody who studies names of fathers. And then, of course I'm in Paris, I'm listening to this lecture about names of fathers, and I find myself weeping, and it hits me that I'm hearing about my own life. You know, it's hard to believe

how the unconscious works. Well, of course I'm weeping. I'm there in Powers studying the most important question of my life, and I sort of had to collect myself and it was a transformative moment. And Lacan is someone who I mean to briefly state this theory. He basically saying that accepting the name of the father is the moment when

you take in the social world. That psychoanalysis is not just about the family romance, you know, mommy, Daddy, you It's about taking in the rules and the structure of language and the way in which that captures the rules of the social structure in which you live. And that happens by entering into this order that he calls the symbolic order. That's where language and society and the social world comes into with your taking on the father's name.

And really, when he means the father's name, he means not just the name, but the structure. Let's say that patriarch society that we live in. You know, that was going to be pretty complicated for me if I wasn't even allowed to say my father's name, or if there was some confusion if there was a father or a father who had to be erased. Sherry's now in her late twenties, living in Cambridge, still attending Harvard, but she makes frequent trips back to Brooklyn to care for her

ailing grandmother. It's during these trips, perhaps spurred on by her graduate studies, that her absent father begins to haunt her and she begins to actively look for him. On every trip, I would stop at the airport and go through the Manhattan telephone book because we didn't have a Manhattan telephone book in our home, but there was one at the airport, and I would get to the flight early, or remember one time the flight was delayed, and I would spend as much time as I could copying down

Charles Zimmerman's from the Manhattan telephone book. And then of course I tried to Queen's telephone book and you know, whatever telephone books I could find to try to get the names and addresses of all the Charles Zimmerman's in New York was trying to figure out who might be my Charles Zimmerman. And this was the beginning. I mean I did this obsessively. You know, hundreds and hundreds and

hundreds of Charles Zimmerman's. I don't know what I was planning to do with these names, write them all or you know, I was going to sift through them, or it was starting my quest Why do you think why that moment was it because your grandmother was dying, Why at that moment did it become the need to know sort of really just rose up and took hold of you. My compact with my mother to not find my father. She had not wanted me to find him, She had not wanted him in my life, and that promise, that

understanding was with her. And I think that with my grandmother's death, her mother's death, I felt liberated that I would no longer be hurting. You know that now I could now act on my behalf. I could now say I could answer this question for myself. I think the death of these two women was very important to me. And her sister was still alive and I spoke to her about it, and she didn't like it, but she

helped me. My aunt, Mildred gave me a crucial piece of information that he had been a teacher in the New York public schools and that was the key piece of information and let me find him. But she didn't know why my mother had left him. She did not know the secret. She did not know the mystery. It's not until several years later, when she has a job teaching at m I T that Terry decides to use much of her first year's earnings to hire a detective.

Writing random Charles Zimmerman's from the phone book is getting her nowhere. With the help of the detective and a key bit of information provided by her aunt, eventually Sherry does find him and they meet to an epic meeting because I write him and I you know, I write him the letter and I say that I believe that I'm your daughter, and here the circumstances so that we last connect, and I would very much like to renew our acquaintance. As soon as he got it, he called

me back. I had given him a number to call, and we make a date for the following weekend and I go to his house. At the time, I was married, and I tell my husband we agree he's going to stay back at the hotel and I will call him if I need him, and I go to his houses in Queen's I'm struck by how he looks like me. I opened the door in his fos moment when I'm so I'm so emotionally, kind of just taken over by the fact that of course I'm looking at someone who

looks like me. It's just just an emotional moment. And he says to me, did you find me through the New York Times? At the time, there was like a set of advertisements in New York subways, like I found my jobs at the New York Times. And I'm thinking, did he was he advertising for me all these years that I was going to the mailbox and hoping to have like a birthday card or Hanecker card? Or did I find him through the New York Times? And I had this moment of warmth and happiness that he'd been

looking for me. And he shows me the ad that he's been placing in the New York Times, which says he wells MC squared is not correct. Queen's high school teacher disproves Einstein and for more information, and there's a post office box, and his ad in the New York Times is about him having a pamphlet that disproves Einstein.

He thinks he's he thinks there was a mistake in Einstein's theory, and then all of a sudden he's talking about Michaelson Morley and the mistakes and Michaelson and the algebra, Michaelson Orley. I mean, he's like into his theory of how he's disproved Einstein, and he's like completely forgotten even in the room. I mean, he's like into his disproof of Einstein and giving me, you know, getting copies ready

for me. And it turns out that he was He was a rogue scientist who had published two books, one on raw food Vegetarianism and World Peace, where he argues that only people who were raw food vegetarian should be able to leave governments because there'll be more peaceful and this disproof of Einstein has written several books on that.

So bottom line is that as the conversation continues, I learned that my mother left him because when I was a baby, the scientific bent of his had expressed itself by his doing skinner like experiments on me not speaking to me for a certain amount of time and seeing what happened, putting me in a dark room for a certain amount of time and seeing what happened, and all the different kinds of skinner box experiments that people were

doing at that time. Skinner box experiments, simply put, these were psychological experiments that studied the effects of positive and negative reinforcement using rats. Yes, rats, not humans, and most definitely not babies. And these were secret. My mother didn't know anything about them, and he did them when she was out shopping or visiting me, whenever she was not

with me. He did them private. And then once she came back early from going shopping and she found him at an experiment where he had left me alone in a dark room and was trying to extend the amounts of time that I would tolerate them. So they were deprivation experiments at that point, I was one year old

when she found him at this experiment. She called her sister to pick her up and to pick me up, and she packed some diapers and a few pieces of clothing, and apparently in some eggs from the supermarket, and we went back to my grandparents house and never returned and that's the story of our departure and the end of that marriage. And as your father is telling you this story during this meeting that you're having with him for the first time in many years, he's telling it to you,

it sounds like, you know, somewhat sort of proudly. Yes, he's very proud of these experiments. I would say I went into a sort of dissociated state where I sort of could see myself sitting there at the table, listening to him, watching myself trying to be present to him, as I sort of sad at someplace else, maybe across the room, watching these two people talk. Because it was unbearable. You know. I wanted to keep this conversation going. I wanted to not stop him from talking. I wanted to

hear this story desperately. I wanted to hear about these experiments, but I couldn't bear to. So I sort of had this experience of removing myself and kept a piece of me sitting at the table with the coffee cup, letting him talk to that sherry as part of me just drifted away. It was an experience that I had never really had before. And he tells me the story and then actually I protected myself because I immediately then called my husband because I wanted him to hear all this.

You need a witness. I needed a witness, and I wanted to hear this whole thing over again because I, you know, I just was by this point, I'm in an altered state. And my husband was a computer scientist and trying to a great mathematician. And my husband showed up. And now my my father, Charles Zimmerman, uh, now he has a bona fide m i T. Mathematician in the room who understands he can read his equations and the

Michaelson Morley experiment and the mistakes. And they're sitting there together, and Charlie is so excited, and he's going through the mistakes and the and I can watch them together as Charlie is explaining how he's right and Einsstein is wrong, and Charlie is getting all excited about how he's going to be famous with these disproof of Einstein. And I understood. And over the next many years, my understanding would deepened of why my mother had feared the man and had

just wanted me to never see him. And I I learned to feel a deep and deepening and deepening empathy and compassion and understanding of how she had fled. She had wanted to protect me, she had felt frightened and ashamed, and she never wanted to talk about this. She did not want this to be part of her story and my story. Actually, Rabbis who have spoken to since have said that some might have shunned me as being the child of such a person, as though I might carry

his madness. It's even been suggested to me that I would have been unmarriageable in some Jewish beliefs. She might have even have grown up with that kind of background, from a more traditional background than I'm from. I think there was just a lot to it. She was in over her head and this was something that she had to completely erase. Yeah, it makes so much sense. This is the secret. This secret was not shared with my grandmother. The secret was not shared with her, my grandfather, or

my aunt. None of them knew this secret. This story of the experiments was something that when I went to my aunt and tell her about Charlie and what I found, this is new to her. You know, she knows that he's bad, she knows that he's crazy. But my they're told her family that she was unhappy in this marriage. But this was a secret she bore alone. She was so frightened at this secret. So this was her secret too. So I was a secret keeper, but she was a

secret keeper as well. It took me a while to find a way to tell the story of who Charles Zimmerman was because it was a lot to talk about the experiments that he had done on me, because I was, you know, in psychoanalysis, and I was working through what

that meant to me. You know, we'll never know, I'll never know really what that meant to me, but I was certainly talking a lot about it, and it was you know, it didn't come trippingly off the tongue to talk to people about those experiments because I didn't want to say something that style about them. It was a

lot to talk about. It took many years, and I think my psychoanalytic work and therapy to be able to, you know, to kind of talk about and write about what the discovery of Charles Zimmerman had been like as an experience. But I could talk about that I kept the secret and that it had been corrosive, and I was done with that. Family secrets is a production of I Heart Radio. Molly z a Core is the story

editor and Dylan Fagan is the executive producer. If you have a family secret you'd like to share, please leave us a voicemail and your story could appear on an upcoming episode. Our number is one Secret zero. That's the number zero. You can also find me on Instagram at

Danny writer. And if you'd like to know more about the story that inspired this podcast, check out my memoir Inheritance m M. For more podcasts for My heart Radio, visit the I Heart Radio app, Apple podcast, or wherever you listen to your favorite shows.