Family Secrets is a production of iHeartRadio.
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. My guest today is Dina Gashman, journalist and author of the recent essay collection So Sorry for Your Loss. Dina's is a story of the long reach of a buried family secret through the generations, and the desire of one tenacious woman to understand what really happened and how to make it right, or at least as right as possible.
I was born in Fort Arts, Texas. We live to Euston when I was in third grade, and my parents were high school sweethearts, so my family goes back in Texas, you know, generation. So my childhood was actually pretty wonderful. I was outside all the time. This was pre technology, so you know, my sisters and I were all was outside making mud pies. And I had very loving parents, and I was close with my both sets of grandparents, and we were all pretty physically close together, so I
was spending the night with them all the time. But it was it was actually very happy and wonderful, and I don't think. There wasn't much that I knew about my grandparents except that they were just wonderful people. I didn't really, obviously as a kid, pay attention to their stories.
And you were the oldest of four yes, yeah, oldest four girls. So growing up in the first the Fort Worth area and then the Houston area, what were the expectations of the kind of prison supposed to grow up to be?
I think the expectations were I'd be a cheerleader beyond the drill team, you know, a very kind of Texas view of the world, and I was not going in that direction at all. I was very creative, wanted to be a writer. You know, I always loved school, but I just rebelled by you know, wearing combat boots and all that kind of stuff. But I think the expectations were,
you get married, you have a family. And my parents knew pretty quickly that I was probably going to go in a different director, maybe even leave Texas, and they they didn't discourage me from that. But I think in general it was more just like, you get married, you have children. Women didn't necessarily work that much. Honestly. My mom was a stay at home mom, so that was kind of the world that I was brought up in, and I think I rebelled against a probably around junior high.
And you know, even though you adored your mom, you also had that adolescent rebellion feeling was I don't want to grow up and have your life.
At the time, yes, I very much saw my mom as this woman who who had never really left Texas and who had kind of I viewed, I guess her life is small, and I feel terrible saying that, but as a teenager I did. I just thought, I want to go to Paris, I want to go to New York. I want to, you know, have this big life. And I remember getting in a fight with her when I was in high school and I said, you know, you're
just a housewife. And I apologized for that probably literally until her dying day, and she would always laugh it off. But I felt horrible. But at the time I meant I was very much steering myself away from being like, quote unquote just a housewife and living in the suburbs like that seems horrible to me, so I definitely rebelled against it.
Hovering Over Dina's childhood was a story, well not exactly a story more like family law or a legend something about a fire. Though the details were super hazy, it was always there in the background, part of the music of her life. As a teenager, some of the details began to emerge.
At some point. I think in high school, I heard the story of the fire and it just took shape in my imagination. And I never asked about it. But I had heard the story of a fire that happened on my mom's side, and I knew a woman had committed arson, but I didn't inquire any further. And also at that time, when I was in high school, I remember my mom telling me that my great ants on her side had traced our lineage and this is before
twenty three and me, this is you know. So it was literally typewritten pages that she handed me, and I was so excited because I was sure in the pages, I was like, you know what, there's going to be some woman that like fought in the front lines with battle dressed as a man, or like marched for women's rights in the twenties, or I just was so sure that as opposed to the housewife that I didn't want to become, that there'd be some woman that I could maybe like hinge my identity on. And so I got
the papers and there wasn't anything. There wasn't anything. It was very basic stuff.
And this would have been in the.
Nineties, yeah, early nineties.
So those pages just sort of sat around for a long time.
It was a dead end, yes, and I actually still have them. I somehow held on to them through all moves all over the country, and but it was it was a dead end. And at that time, I don't I think I was just looking for some kind of heroin and it just was you know, your family goes back to the Mayflower and you know that kind of stuff, and so but I held on to them for whatever reason.
What do you think that was about the feeling of you know, wanting, hoping, you know, needing for there to be a role model in a way sort of within your family tree, someone that would maybe help make sense to you of you.
I think a lot of it maybe was just that I did feel very different where I grew up, because when we moved to Euston, it was all about the status quo, very homogeneous, like everyone has the same person everyone, you know, it just felt like everyone had to follow in this Why that just felt so wrong to me. I couldn't even imagine doing that, and I and I wanted to push against it, because I could very easily
fall into that right. And so I think it may have been about like, if maybe if I can find someone you did something different, then it'll free me up a little bit. Maybe it would help me understand myself. And you know, my other sisters went in with cheerleading and did all that kind of stuff, and maybe it would help me understand, like why was I the one that was like I want the arts and something bigger and something wilder, And maybe it would have made me understand myself in that way.
It's so interesting the way that I think so often we feel the need to place ourselves within a narrative, you know, as opposed to just doing sometimes what you know we have to do, which is just make the narrative, forge the narrative, start the narrative. But just that feeling of sort of already being part of a story that has begun before.
Yeah, I wanted out of Texas, the South, so I left for UCLA and I loved it, and I thought I would never leave, and I certainly thought i'd never come back to Texas. That was not even an faint idea. So I went to school, I studied English, stayed in California for many years. I had, you know, all kinds of jobs that would hopefully get me to that writing life that I always wanted and so waited tables, had temp jobs, but always wrote. It was always kind of
part of what I was doing. And then I lived in New York for a little bit, back to LA.
And all of those years when you moved around, you moved across country, you kept with you those pages, the you know, typewritten pages of family history, genealogy. They never got lost. They were important enough to pull on to. Did that story also sort of reside in you somewhere, just as like this sense of this mystery that you hadn't been able to solve it? Did?
I mean that story of the fire? I loved how it was in my imagination, honestly, And I've asked myself all the time, like why did I not ask my mom, you know, I had plenty of time, or my grandmother? Why did I not sit them down and say, okay, what happened? Right? Because I knew that there was this story of a fire. But I'm my only answer, I guess is that I just I liked the way it was in my mind, but I did. I carried that with me for years, and every once in a while
I would kind of think about it and imagine. I think when I was in college, actually I saw Terrence Malick's film bad Lands, which in that film, there's this very cinematic, operatic fire scene, and it's you know, the main character's father is horrible, so she burns down the house. And somehow that scene in that movie, which I loved,
became part of this family bore in my imagination. So I told myself that it was my grandmother that did it, and she burned her childhood house down to save her and her sisters and her mother because my great grandfather was an acol what she was, but I don't know if he was a bad guy. I just knew he was an alcoholic. So I just created this thing of it's kind of like bad Lands, and it's this big operatic fire and my grandmother did it and no one was hurt, but you know that she was the rebel.
And so I just kind of let it sit there in my mind for years, but I thought about it often, and I thought about writing about it Auten, but I never did.
When you saw bad Lands, did it fit together with the vision of the fire that you had already been carrying around with you? Was it already sort of this in your imagination in your inner life. Was it this big operatic thing or did it sort of supplant that in some way?
I think when I saw the film, that's what it became. It just gave me a visual that I could cling onto. And Terrence Malick is from Texas. Like there were, you know, sort of things that overlapped that felt like I could kind of hold onto it, and they just blended together in my mind. But I do think the film probably influenced what was going on in my head.
Eventually, Dina does find herself back in Texas. Her grandmother passes away, followed by her great aunts and then her mother. It's during this period of grief and loss that Dina feels a pull to return to Texas. The irony is not lost on her. She has become the very thing she had judged and run away from a suburban Texas mom. In taking on this role, Dina rethinks her own mother's life also. She misses her terribly.
You know, my mom died in twenty eighteen, and that really was, you know, the poll for me to come back, and I really needed my roots. But I think losing my mom, and I think most people that have lost someone they deeply love, one of the things that's really hard for me is realizing that when you lose someone, then you lose their stories, right. You can't ask them
ever again, and that's just hard to live with. And I know I never asked my mom, I never asked my grandmother about this story, and I just think to myself, like why didn't I, Like, now, if they were here, I would sit them down and just say tell me everything. So I think losing my mom really pushed me to look at this story closer and say, like, let me just figure this out because I can't ask her anymore
of that. The stories are gone. Like basically, I'm the oldest female on that side now, I think, which is a strange thing to realize, but they're all gone, that whole line of women, And so I think that really kind of kicked me into gear to say, like, Okay, maybe I need to ask the question. Finally. You know, I asked my dad first, because he knew my mom and her family since he was a teenager, so I figured he'd be reliable. But his you know, his response was,
I'm pretty sure it happened. And he was like, I think it was your great aunt. I knows, but that's kind of all I got from here.
We'll be right back. With few details from her father, Dina starts to dig. She gets in touch with all sorts of family members, determined to get information about her great aunt Ana's. In her excavation, she finds out about something, or rather someone she hadn't known existed. Aunt Anas had a son, Steve.
Oh Man. Well, you know, first I'd ask my cousin, and you know, nobody knew anything. My cousin didn't know anything, my uncle didn't know anything. Some distant relative in Arkansas that I called didn't know anything. And then when I found out about Anas's son, and I thought, after all of these years and then all of this time digging, I thought, oh my gosh, I'm gonna get his number and when it makes sense to just call him immediately.
But I got the number and I just kind of froze and I put it in my desk and it took me about two weeks to make the call. I was very nervous because I didn't know the guy, and to call somebody up and say, hey, you know, did your mom commit Arsen? It's extremely awkward. And as a journalist I ask questions all the time, but with the hard questions, I have to really get myself into that zone. So I sat on it for about two weeks and
it was scary. I mean, my heart was racing that he was so sweet and so gracious, but you know, I said, I heard this story that your mom maybe committed arson. Did you know anything about that? And he had no clue. And he told me that he didn't even know that his mom had been married before his father until he was eighteen and they told him. So that just shows you that even her being married before was a secret. Yeah, a secret. And so you know, I asked his permission. I said, are you okay if
I kind of dig further into this. It was a scary thing to ask and kind of surprising that you wouldn't know about this huge thing in his mom's past. So he did give me permission to kind of dig deeper, which I appreciated.
You know, I'm interested to in making the distinction between like Yes, you're a journalist and you're used to asking hard questions and you have to kind of gear yourself up to ask them in the line of work. But I would imagine that it would have felt different to be asking these questions when you're dealing with something that is as personal as a family story.
Yes, it adds a whole other layer of For one thing, I don't want to bring something up for this guy that I don't even know, you know, this guy in North Texas who, yes, he's related to me, but you know, it's I don't want to call him and then just dig up things that maybe he doesn't want to think about or what you know, doesn't want to have in his life. I guess I had to feel like it
was worth it to even go there. And I think that's when my dad, who had told me he thought it was I know, is when I told my dad this, he said, maybe you should just kind of leave this alone. But I just couldn't.
I you know, I had his permission, and was your dad's feeling let sleeping dogs lie kind of why stir up something that is ancient history kind of feeling?
I think it's that and then just be you know, my dad's a pretty sensitive person, so I think he was probably thinking of and as his son and just you know, maybe, yeah, maybe you don't want to do this to somebody that is not asking these questions, and that that is the hard thing about finding out a secret or being a journalist or you know, trying to look into these stories as you almost have to think like, okay, well is this my story to tell? And I did
grapple with that. When my dad said, you know, maybe you should leave it alone, I thought, okay, is this my story to tell? This is this other guy's mother. It's not my mom. But I just felt like, you know, these are the women in my family that eventually came to the conclusion that it is it is my story to tell.
Yeah, that makes a lot of That makes a lot of sense to me. I mean, both the grappling with it and the questions and it sort of fell on you. He just simply didn't know. But that didn't make the story not a true story. It didn't erase the story.
Right.
Dina is at this point a working mom with a young kid. She's living a rich and busy life in Austin. Still she doesn't lose her drive to solve the mystery, to close the chapter, to understand what happened the night of the fire and in its aftermath.
The other thing that really pushed me is that I pitched this to some editors at Mother Tongue magazine. I had never met them, and we just had one of those meet and greet kind of zooms, and they asked, you know, the question, is there anything you've been burning to write? So it was just the perfect.
Timing, interesting choice of words, too right.
Exactly, And you know, editors don't often ask that, so it's a magical question to get as a writer. And I hadn't prepared a pitch. I just started going off about my great aunt and saying like, this is what's going on. And I always thought about it, and I don't know what the outcome is going to be. I don't know if I'm gonna really find any true evidence, but I need to go on a road trip. And they were like, go for it, and so then I sort of had. Then I had to do it, and you know,
from that on it became extremely important. And I you know, I've never really done investigative work before, so I mean I had like a little bored with pictures up and things like that. So it became a huge part of my days for sure.
And you brought in a genealogist slash genealogical detective in a way, right, I had.
Yeah, So I had looked on you know, ancestry dot com, which you don't really find that much there. And I talked to a lot of small town historians because I knew that I had lived in Fort Worth and then also in which it's a falls, which is North Texas, and so I talked to small town historians up there who were very helpful as far as census records and marriage records and things like that. So they were sending
me those kinds of things. But I just we weren't finding any a news story or anything about a fire, and so I was about to give up. And I remember there's this group called the Texas Genealogical Society. They do a conference every year, and so I just thought, Okay, let me find somebody on their board who's in North Texas, and let me just give it one last shot. I mean, I was about to be write the article and say
I didn't find out anything. But it was a great try, you know, and that was going to not be a great article. So I emailed this woman in North Texas and I just sent her everything I had. I said, here's marriagereckers, here's social security, here's an address that she lived in. And I sent it off one night, just thinking, okay, this is this is kind of my last shot, right, this is kind of my hail Mary. I don't know what else to do. And then I woke up in
the morning to like six emails from this woman. The subject lines were like found it, She's guilty, she did it. I mean, it was crazy. And so I opened these emails and it was news clippings that she had found from nineteen forty six with the most film noir kind of headlines like Brunette burns out, Blondet rival bibles house. So they were basically framing my great Anna as this like Brunette fe fatale, and there it was. It was crazy.
It was right in front of my I mean, I still get chill's thinking about it, that this thing that had lived in my mind for decades, it was right in front of my face in the newspaper that she had burned down a house.
And until that moment, were you sure that it was true? And Were you sure that it was her? Because my sense is that there was some question in your mind from early on when you first heard word of this, the lore of this fire, of really just not even being sure A that had happened, and B who said it if it did? So that moment, what was that like?
I was not sure at all until that moment. I thought it was one of those things, you know, because sometimes we just create stories in our minds, you know, I think whilst people do this where you have like a memory and you're like, did that actually happens? I make that up? And so I really didn't know. I didn't know it was her. I didn't know if a fire happened or if this was just some family legend
that somehow, you know, just endured over these years. So it really wasn't until that moment that I thought, Wow, this actually is part of my family story and part of my story. And you know, it was several clippings, and you know, the more I dug in it was that there was so much more to it. I mean, that she had been married to this guy, they divorced, he was abusive, that she didn't just try to burn the house down once she went back three times that she was sent to the North Texas State Hospital.
When it is the first time that you actually saw her, like saw an image of her as part of the clippings and the lurid headlines.
Well that was interesting because the clippings that the genealogist sent me were just you know, headlines, and I didn't see a picture until one of the historians, like that same week, because we were all kind of emailing a lot during that week, and one of the historians email me and she's like, I'm sure you've seen this. I found this on eBay and it was the actual crime photo I think that you know on hebeo was for sale,
like true crime photo. It was a black and white photo of Inez in what looks like prison clothes and she's sitting there and she has a black eye and she's kind of smiling and it said, you know, I Na's Burger, which was her married name at that time, arrested for arson. I mean, that was the first time I saw her face and she looked like my grandmother was just crazy and my mother seeing her there, but it's then with a black eye and with this almost like a little bit of a triumphant smile. It was
just it was unbelievable to see that. So I bought it for like nineteen dollars on the spot. But that was the first time I saw an image of her at that time.
We'll be back in a moment with more family secrets. Dina does what so many of us do when we're trying to figure something out. She gets into her car and drives. She heads out on a road trip to Wichita Falls and Fort Worth to visit the North Texas State Hospital where Ainez had been sent. The visit is powerful and illuminating. It's a very different place today than it was back then.
So when she was there. I think it opened in the twenties or thirties, And yes, it was created to be one of these places where they're like milking cows and making carrots. And that's not to say that it was a you know, idyllic place, because when I went there, in the lobby, they have the electric shock machines they used in that era. They had you know all this. I mean, they're showing the history of the place. So it was meant to be, you know, let's rehabilitate these people.
And I can only imagine what it was like for her there. And I know that she was sent there because I don't know for sure, but in the newspaper articles or the news articles, it would say that nine people testified that she was not of sound mind, and one of them was with my great grandmother that said that.
And I imagine, and this is one of those things I'll just have to, you know, keep in my imagination, but I would think that they said that so that she would go to a state hospital instead of to jail. That's just my thinking of why they would do that. But so, yeah, she was sent there, and I don't know for how long is I can't get the records. But going up to this place, I mean, it's these old brick buildings. I mean half of them are condemned. It's a pretty sad place.
Well, and she was released on bail the first time that she was sent there, right.
So this is where the story it's it's almost becomes like a dark comedy in a way, because I mean, no one died, so I could say. But so she went to his house and I did go visit the house or that the house that's you know on that site now, So she went to the house and tried to burn it down the first time and it didn't work.
She went a second time and it didn't work, but she and she got arrested and she was released on bail after that second attempt, and supposedly, from what the newspaper said, after the second attempt, she'd got in a cap, went straight back at Birningtown like she was determined. She was not happy. And so after that third attempt is when she was arrested and then send that's to the state hospital.
And so would it have been after the third attempt that she a photograph was taken of her with the black eye and the kind of small triumphant smile or there's no way to really know that.
Yeah, so it was after that third attempt when she was officially arrested and then.
Put on trial, and the smile was she had done it.
Yeah, I mean, that's the crazy thing. I mean, I still have that picture in my office. You know, I've stared at that picture a lot because it's such a mysterious thing. But yes, I think you know her quotes. I mean, if you've ever looked at nineteen forties newspapers, they're horrifying and hilarious. This just the way that they phrase things unbelievable. But some of her quotes were that, you know, I don't regret it at all. My ex husband beat me, and wouldn't you do the same thing?
And I could only imagine that, yes, she she didn't want to kill him. I actually have. I actually also talked to some forensic psychologists and they say it's significant that every time she went nobody was there. Like, I don't think she was trying to kill him. I think she just, especially being a woman at that time, that was kind of all she had. I mean, you know, they didn't have a lot of money. She's not like
she knew powerful people. Her only way to say, this guy is abusing me and I'm pissed is to turn his house down. And it's pretty sad when you read the papers, you know, the guy wasn't really made us to be a bad guy at all. Which it's not perfect now, but it's so different now that I don't think he would just be painted as you know, some husband, that poor guy, I got his house burned down. But at the time she was the bad which is crazy.
And nothing is made of the fact that she has evidence of being hurt.
No I mean, I think one article mentioned it, but not even in a you know, it was just kind of like, why not it's with the black eye said this. So that was another thing that really struck me, especially seeing the photos and reading those quotes, is just women at that time, I mean, had very little recourse when it came to that kind of abuse. And you know, the other mystery that I'll just say that I may never find out is they had been divorced and he
had been remarried, yet he was still abusing her. So like were they having an affair? You know, That's something that I don't know how I would ever find that answer. But that's another sort of part of the mystery, is well, why were they still well what was going on with those two? And then the state hospital was I, you know, got a tour and I talked to the president at the time, and he told me that women in that era would be dropped off for much less than ourson.
And one of these one of the things he said to me was, you know, things like menopause, which it's just you know, husbands would just literally drop women off at the gates at this place.
Well like okay, dear, you know, spend, spend the next eighteen months here and I'll pick you up.
Yeah, I can't take your mood. So, you know, just go into this mental hospital place.
There's no way of knowing how long she was there. And I mean you do know that when she at some point after she got out, she remarried and she married Steve's father and they had a long, happy marriage and they had you know this son. There's so much that is available to us now in terms of being able to ask institutions for records to understand, you know, what happened. Do the records exist or are they lost to history?
Well, if they do exist, I mean that's the part where I did hit a dead end. Is the story still stays. I mean I feel like there's more to tell, the more to find out, like how long was she there or what the records would say. And I reached back out to her son. Well, the first time I reached back out is when I the articles came out, and I just said, I said, you know, I did find some things out. Do you want to read this? And I sent it to him before publication and he
said no, not right now. He said, when it comes out, maybe you could send it to me on the side of them, but it's like he just didn't want to know. And then when I did send it to him, he did read it and he just said something like, you know, this is a different kind of read for me, and he said he has very mixed emotions and I'm pulling at the email. He said, I will consider her a person of courage, and he you know, I said, I
appreciate your writing and research. And then I reached out to him pretty recently because I wanted to see if I could talk to him farther and maybe because he's the only person that could get the records released. And he just said out. He was very sweet and he just said no, And from there, I can't really do that because he's the only person that could unlock that.
There can really be a point in life where it's too much, where the idea of re understanding or re ordering or rethinking your history when there is nothing to be done about it, there's no conversation to be had. That kind of reckoning is just more than somebody wants to, you know, it feels that they can bear It doesn't if we go back to the idea of narrative, it does not fit into the narrative of you know, this was my life, this was my mother, this was my father, this was our history.
Yeah, and I think he's probably in his seventies now, and yeah, he probably just is like, you know what, I don't need to go there. I don't need to unearth sayings. And you know, my motivations are very different. I mean I'm thinking about you know, a lot of it is about women and what women have endored, and you know, going back to even when I was in high school and searching for that kind of specifically female heroin.
I mean I didn't get those pages in high school and think like where's the guy, Like where's the guy that did something great? Like it? It was a one had to be a woman. And so I think that, Yeah, for him, he's living his life, he's working, he doesn't need to know more. Whereas I'm sitting here going I want to know everything.
Where does it end up sitting with you? And you know, how does it end up feeling to you? I mean you you made a piece of work out of it. You know that exists in the world, but perhaps more important, you were able to find that person, someone who didn't sit back and just contend with her lot in life. And I mean even divorce was pretty unusual in those days. Whatever the circumstances of their divorce was, she was definitely
trying to get out of there. Yes, So what has that done for you in terms of just a feeling that you were right all along? There was somebody in that family tree of yours, there was a woman who walked a different path than the path of all of the other women around her.
I think it's two things. It's the fact that, yes, I am related to somebody, and I'm sure the people on road that I don't even know about that I'm related to that did things like this. But a woman that, you know, she didn't necessarily do the thing that I was thinking about back in high school. Right, she didn't challenge government or right in the war. She did something
very different than that, but extremely brave. And when I went to the house, and you know, we were just outside looking at it, I just thought, that's terrifying, actually walking into someone's house three times with a match. It's not a small thing to do. I mean, that's it's a huge thing to do. So it's made me look
at all the women in my family. I think in a different light, and you know, it kind of colors everything my mom, my grandmother, and just realizing that it doesn't have to be some big thing that a person does to make them credible or someone that can inspire you. You know, even my mom the way she lived her life. Every human has hard things to deal with, and you know, my mom certainly did, my grandmother certainly did. And seeing those things as heroic. I think my great aunt has
helped me understand that a little bit better. And just I guess elevating all the women in my family in a way is you know, just understanding that any moment in life can be hard. It doesn't have to be grand if that makes sense.
Yeah, that's beautiful. It totally makes sense. And you're the mother of a son, but you also have nieces. This is something that you feel is part of the legacy that you are able to pass on to that generation.
Yes, definitely my nieces and my son too. Like I mean, you know, he's six now, I'm not gonna tell him yet, but eventually, yes, to tell him that, Like you had this person in your family who really stood up for herself in extremely brave and bold way. Not that I'm condoning Arson, but for her to do that in the forties and say I don't regret it is a very
powerful thing. And one of the things that I keep thinking since writing the piece and finding all this out, is just I wish I could just sit her down and say you're amazing, Like this didn't have to be a secret. This shouldn't have been something that was shameful. This shouldn't have been something that, you know, my grandmother and her sisters and my great grandmother felt like they couldn't share that. It's really that I admire her and
I still have. You know, I still have her photo in my office and I sometimes look at it and just out loud or like you're a badass, Like I just wish she could have known that or felt that instead of feeling ashamed of it, which she obviously did because she didn't tell anybody. You know, I always do. You remember my mom saying that my grandmother we called
her Mamma. She would say, you know, Mamma and her sisters they had it hard, and you know they didn't It wasn't easy for them growing up, and she would say, like they had to be pretty tough. So I think maybe that has something to do with how this all turned out.
Family Secrets is a production of iHeartRadio. Molly Zaccur 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 eight eight eight Secret zero. That's the number zero. You can also find me on Instagram at Danny Ryder. And if you'd like to know more about the story that inspired this podcast, check out my memoir Inheritance.
For more podcasts from iHeartRadio, visit the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to your favorite shows.