On a fall day in 1981, Ricardo Ramirez accepted an offer to become a bishop in San Antonio, Texas.

At StoryCorps, he remembered the dozens of phone calls he made that day.

One of the first was to his grandmother Panchita Espitia.

Patrick Haggerty grew up the son of a dairy farmer in rural Washington during the 1950s.

As a teenager, Patrick began to understand he was gay–something he thought he was hiding well.

But as he told his daughter Robin, one day, when he went to perform at a school assembly, his father Charles Edward Haggerty, decided to have a serious talk with him.

In late June 2014, county clerks in Colorado challenged a ban on same-sex marriage by issuing marriage licenses to gay and lesbian couples. The state attorney general has ordered them to stop, and the case has reached the Colorado Supreme Court.

But few know that this is history repeating itself.

Back in 1975, Clela Rorex was the newly-elected County Clerk in Boulder when she began issuing marriage licenses to same sex couples.

At StoryCorps, Clela (R) told her friend, Sue Larson (L), that it started one day when two men came to her office door.

On the day this story was broadcast, the Colorado Supreme Court ordered County Clerks in the state to stop issuing marriage licenses to same-sex couples. 

90-year-old Rita Fischer and her son Jay interviewed each another at a StoryCorps booth in New York City.

They recalled a conversation they had back in the 1980s, when Jay first told Rita he was gay.

Warning: This clip features senior citizens dropping ‘f’ bombs.

Rita Fischer has walked in New York’s AIDS Walk since 1986. She has raised more than $800,000 in that time. 

If you’ve ever visited Fells Point on the Baltimore waterfront, you may have noticed an older man with a telescope.

His name is Herman Heyn, the city’s street corner astronomer.

For decades he’s set up in the same spot, inviting passers-by to peer through his telescope.

At StoryCorps, he sat down with his nephew, John, to remember how he became a self-proclaimed “star hustler.”

Since 2003, we have broadcast hundreds of conversations that were recorded in booths across the country, but this week, for the first time, we present one recorded in the front seat of a 1994 Buick.

Last month, Kara Masteller, 21, and her grandfather James Kennicott, sat together in a Waterloo, Iowa, mall parking lot and conducted a StoryCorps interview. They chose this location because James, who is 86 and resides in a local senior living facility, had no interested in sharing his business with any of the other people who live alongside him.

Their 16-minute long interview begins simply with Kara saying to her grandfather, “Tell me about yourself, where did you grow up?”

From there, Kara, the youngest of James’ 10 grandchildren, was able to get a man she described as unaccustomed to opening up about his life to briefly discuss his difficult upbringing. He then talked in greater detail about his beloved wife, Annie, who passed away in 2012, his work as a supervisor at the John Deere factory, the loss of his eldest son Chuck who suffered with Lou Gehrig’s disease, as well as his thoughts on life and advice for others as they age.

In a separate interview with StoryCorps, Kara, a senior at the University of Iowa, remembered her grandfather as once being an intimidating figure in her life, but as they have both grown older and maintained their close relationship, she now sees him as fun, protective, and loving. He’s a man who enjoys joking around, dancing, shooting pool, and playing the penny slots at a local casino.

During their conversation, James also offers Kara advice on a happy marriage, “You gotta kinda like each other…if something happened just say ‘I’m sorry’ and get it over with and make up,” because “when you get married, it’s kind of like the two of you are one. You think the same.” And on life in general, advising her to “keep it so the days don’t just go by and that’s all there is, a boring old day…let life roll on…it goes fast.” You need to “roll with age, don’t worry about it, it’s coming. Enjoy life, it’s wonderful.”

According to Kara, after their recording ended, James continued to share memories with her about Annie before they grabbed a cup of coffee and headed over to the casino to play the penny slots together.

Vito de la Cruz’s parents were already separated when he was born, and when he was 6 months old, his father left him in the care of his 19-year-old aunt, Iris de la Cruz, a woman he called Nena.

Vito’s extended family traveled the migrant trail, finding work on farms across the United States. At 5 years old, Vito joined them in the fields. He remembers the excitement of traveling in the summers with his aunts, uncles, and grandmother from tomato fields in South Texas, to cherry orchards in Ohio, and sugar beet farms in North Dakota. During the days, they worked side-by-side, and in the evenings, they gathered together for dinner.

But their family’s migrant lifestyle was not easy; it was “equal parts hardship and poverty.” When he was 13, Border Patrol agents raided the farm where Vito and his family were working and rounded up undocumented workers. Witnessing workers’ fear of law enforcement struck a “profound chord in his being” and changed the course of his life.

Vito had always excelled in school, with Nena’s encouragement. She, herself, was the first person in the de la Cruz family to graduate high school, and she later went on to college. Following Nena’s example, Vito left South Texas for Yale University and then went on to attend law school at the University of California, Berkeley.

After law school, Vito began volunteering with the United Farm Workers union and focused the early part of his legal career on immigrant and farmworker rights. Years later, he became a federal public defender in Nevada before moving to Bellevue, Washington, where he continues to practice civil rights law.

Vito came to StoryCorps with his wife, Maria Sefchick-Del Paso, to remember how his childhood and his loving Nena shaped his future.

Vito’s story is one of 53 work stories featured in our new book, Callings: The Purpose and Passion of Work, now available in bookstores.

Charles Jones was already a father to three daughters when he found out his fourth child was going to be a boy. He was so excited by the news that even before Malik was born, Charles began plotting ways he would get the new baby into playing and loving sports--the same way his own father had done with him--even joking to others that he had already bought him New York Knicks season tickets.

When Malik was two and a half years old, he was diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder. Like many parents of children on the autistic spectrum, Charles and his wife struggled to adjust to their son’s unexpected needs, but over time, they worked together to better understand autism and Malik. Early on, Charles feared his son would be non-verbal, unable to even speak his own name or say, “I love you,” but eventually Malik, now 12, began talking, and according to his father, once he did, “He wouldn’t shut up.”

Charles decided to start a support group for fathers like himself to provide a space for them to feel safe sharing their feelings. Five years ago, at a New York Mets game on Autism Awareness Day, Charles met Anthony Merkerson. Anthony has two children--Elijah, 10, and Amaya, 7--who are both on the autistic spectrum. After meeting Charles, Anthony joined the support group and they have since become close friends.

Charles, a filmmaker, came to StoryCorps with Anthony, a New York City Metropolitan Transit Authority police officer, to talk about what they have learned from one another, and the concerns they have for their sons as young black men growing up in a society where they are at constant risk of being targeted and misunderstood because they are autistic.

Originally aired July 15, 2016 on NPR’s Morning Edition.

For as long as she can remember, Eileen Kushner has had a difficult time reading and doing simple math. Growing up in Detroit the 1950s, she recalls her teachers calling her “stupid” and “lazy,” but no one knew she had a processing disorder until she was tested and diagnosed by a psychiatrist when she was in her mid-30s. “It was like a door in my brain would drop and it wouldn’t allow me to process any of the information.”

After graduating high school, Eileen married Larry Kushner and over time they had three daughters. Eileen hoped that staying out of the workforce would help her hide her learning difficulties, but surviving on the money Larry earned as a bank teller was hard. There were days when their family didn’t have enough food in the refrigerator, so Eileen began to look for a job.

She worked briefly as a secretary but was fired because her notes were riddled with misspellings, and then Larry suggested that she apply for a job at the McDonald’s next to the bank where he worked. Eileen was overjoyed when she got the job and started by making French fries and milkshakes and cleaning the floors. She secretly hoped she would not be promoted because she knew that would mean working at the cash register.

In the 1960s, McDonald’s cashiers manually calculated the cost of an order, and Eileen was afraid that a promotion would lead others to discover her secret -- she wasn’t able to add. But she did so well with her first responsibilities that a promotion to the register soon followed. For Eileen, it was a tragic moment, and she told Larry she was going to quit. That’s when he came up with a solution.

Larry brought home different denominations of bills from the bank, and Eileen brought home Big Mac boxes, French fry containers, and cups, and they began playing McDonald’s at their kitchen counter. Larry would pretend to be the customer and Eileen would practice adding up his order. They did this every day until Eileen felt comfortable enough to accept her promotion.

Eileen moved her way up at McDonald’s eventually becoming a manager and then attending Hamburger University. Together Eileen and Larry have owned five separate McDonald’s restaurants (currently, they own one). Now in their 70s, she credits Larry with their success while he believes that it was her dogged perseverance and hard work that got them to where they are today.

They came to StoryCorps to remember their earlier struggles.

Originally aired September 16, 2016 on NPR’s Morning Edition.

On August 30, 2010, Native American woodcarver John T. Williams was crossing the street while carving a piece of wood when he was shot and killed by a Seattle Police Department officer. John, 50, a member of the Nitinaht First Nation was deaf in one ear and didn’t immediately respond to Officer Ian Birk’s calls to put his knife down. Less than five seconds after giving his first command, Officer Birk had shot John four times.

John descends from generations of well-known and respected carvers whose work is part of museum collections and has been sold for more than a century at Seattle’s famous Ye Olde Curiosity Shop. He carved his first totem when he was just 4 years old and knew more than 250 figures by heart.

Even with a long history of alcohol abuse and homelessness, carving in Seattle’s Victor Steinbrueck Park was a near constant activity towards the end of John’s life. He spent the morning of the shooting in the park with his brother, Rick Williams, carving together. Rick was waiting for John to rejoin him when he heard about what had happened.

In February 2011, the Seattle Police Department’s Firearms Review Board found unequivocally that the use of deadly force by Officer Birk was unjustified and recommended that Officer Birk be “stripped of all Seattle Police powers and authority.” Shortly thereafter, Officer Birk resigned. In April of 2011, the city settled all legal claims with the Williams family for $1.5 million.

Rick, who visits his brother’s grave weekly, is teaching his own sons to carve so that they will carry on the family tradition. He also continues to carve in Victor Steinbrueck Park where he last spent time with his brother.

At StoryCorps, Rick and his friend, Jay Westwind Wolf Hollingsworth, remember John and the day that he was killed.

Originally aired October 7, 2016, on NPR’s Morning Edition.

During the 2016 presidential race, many families are finding their viewpoints incompatible with those of even their closest relatives. So rather than spend their time constantly arguing, they have agreed to just avoid discussing politics all together.

Jenn Stanley, 29, and her father, Peter, have experienced a strain on their relationship for years. Political discussions regularly leave them angry and frustrated with each other. Jenn, a self-described liberal who turns to yoga to clear her head, writes about feminist issues for various publications and produces a podcast about women’s rights. Peter, who relaxes by shooting his guns, works in construction and began voting Republican in 1980 during the Reagan revolution.

Whenever they are together and the news comes on the television, they argue.

When Jenn was younger, she considered Peter to be her best friend. She played softball--which she hated--because Peter liked baseball; he coached her team because he thought she wanted to play. But as she got older and left for college, their views grew further apart, making it difficult for them to talk about many of the things that are most important to each of them.

They came to StoryCorps to try to put their differences aside, and listen to each other’s points of view.

Originally aired November 4, 2016, on NPR’s Morning Edition.

You may recall the voice of Dr. William “Lynn” Weaver from a StoryCorps interview he did back in 2007, where he talked about his father, Ted Weaver — the most important man in his life. He later came back to StoryCorps to remember someone else who had a huge influence on him: his 7th grade science teacher, Mr. Edward O. Hill. In the fall of 1964, Weaver was 14 years old and about to start his sophomore year of high school in Knoxville, Tennessee, when, along with 13 other black students, he integrated previously all-white West High School. At StoryCorps, he talks about what happened on his first day at West High.

Maggie Marquez and Jessi Silva grew up in the desert town of Marfa, Texas in the 1950s. At the time, segregation of Latino and white students was not legal. However, Marfa’s school system — like many others in the Southwest — practiced de facto segregation, in which Latino and white children attended different schools. In Marfa, Latino children attended the Blackwell School. Many of the students spoke Spanish as their first language. Both Maggie and Jessi were students at Blackwell. They came to StoryCorps to remember the day their school banned students from speaking Spanish in a ceremony called the “burial of Mr. Spanish.” In 2007, a group of Blackwell alumni, including Maggie and Jessi, returned to the school grounds, where they buried a Spanish dictionary and dug it up in a symbolic ceremony to “unearth Mr. Spanish.” In recent years, a local organization, the Blackwell School Alliance — in partnership with Marfa Public Radio — is collecting oral histories featuring the voices of former students.

Thompson Williams tells his son Kiamichi-tet about a difficult decision he had to make at the holidays.

33-year-old April Gibson talks to her teenage son, Gregory Bess, about how she felt when he was born.

Lan Cao lived through some of the fiercest fighting of the Vietnam War before starting her life over in the United States. She tells her daughter what it was like.

Muhammad Faridi talks to his father about what it was like growing up as the son of a cab driver.

Charisse Spencer tells her teenage son Myles what it was like integrating her elementary school in Norfolk, Virginia in the 1960s.

Rana and Harjit Sodhi remember their brother, Balbir Singh Sodhi, who was killed in the very first hate crime after the September 11th attacks.

Duane Topping served three tours in Iraq. Coming home, he suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, but found comfort from an unexpected place.

50 years after arriving in the United States from Honduras, Roy Daley sat down with his daughter Lucy and wife Ana to reminisce about his first Thanksgiving dinner.

Maria Rivas (MR) and Emily (E)

E: What was it like for you to come here, to the U.S.?

MR: I didn’t know besides, ’Good morning,’ and, ’What’s your name,’ when I came here. And when you were baby, I, I used to read to you the Dr. Seuss books. Like One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. And that’s how I learned English, reading to you.

E: You know, I, I never really put in much thought that you were an immigrant. I just thought that, you know, you’re my mom. And I never thought that you would have to leave.

I was at school when my phone buzzed and I just saw the notification that TPS was going to terminate. And I remember I started crying.

MR: When you called me, I tried to calm you down. I am like, okay, this is happening. This is really happening. So I put myself together because I knew that I have to be strong for you. And I didn’t promise something that I cannot keep. So I didn’t promise you that everything will be okay. But I promise I’m going to make sure that you are okay.

E: What are you most afraid of?

MR: I…terrified of missing you growing up. It’s terrifying. I think that I’m more afraid of that than to go back to my country. Yeah.

E: I’m scared that I’m gonna have to do everything all by myself.

MR: You’re not going to be alone, I promise to you that. And I’m very hard to get rid of.

E: [Laughs]

MR: So I’m going to be on the phone all the time.

E: What are your hopes for the future?

MR: That I’m going to die of an old age and be the pain on your neck all the time. [Laughs]

E: [Laughs]

MR: And make sure that you find strength, even in a bad moment.

Kristin Sollars and Marci Ebberts talk about their experiences as critical-care nurses in Kansas City, MO.

Maria Rivas cared for her ailing mother over the last six years of her life, but she remembers her as anything but fragile while talking to social worker Caroline Dezan at a hospice center in Fresno, California.

Guy Bryant talks to his foster son, Romario Vassell, about what it means to be a foster parent to more than 50 kids.

Sandy Baker and her daughter, Ashley Baker, recall the two and a half years without permanent housing and the love that helped them make it through it all.

Tom Germano speaks with his son, Thomas, about the Great Postal Strike of 1970, and his love of delivering the mail.

Chloe Longfellow came to StoryCorps to remember some of the life lessons she learned as a kid, while spending time in her grandmother’s kitchen.

Former Army intelligence collector Roman Coley Davis talks about a package he received while stationed in Afghanistan.

After losing her father, Army Staff Sergeant Emilio “Leo” DiPalma, to COVID-19, Emily Aho reflects on his WWII service with her daughter, Hannah Sibley-Liddle.

Albert Sykes speaks with his nine-year-old son, Aidan, about black fatherhood, and his hopes for the future.

Cole Phillips lost his vision just months before starting high school. As a freshman, he met paraprofessional Rugenia Keefe -- or Miss. Ru -- who attended class with him for the next four years. Shortly before graduating, Cole interviewed Ms. Ru using StoryCorps Connect.

Dr. Hadiyah-Nicole Green speaks with her cousin Tenika Floyd about being raised by her Auntie and Uncle, and how their separate battles with cancer inspired her to spend her life fighting the disease.

In a conversation with his long-time friend, Tomás Ybarra-Frausto reminisces on his childhood in San Antonio and the lessons he learned about land, language, and culture.

Erin Haggerty tells her father George about childhood memories she never shared with him before. They discuss the differences in racism between generations and how George unknowingly helped Erin cope.

Feeling isolated during the pandemic, Jinny Savolainen sought to connect with her neighbors. Using StoryCorps Connect, she created a collection of interviews about life during COVID in the small town of Leverett, Mass.

At 91, Helen Merrill has never missed a presidential election. She sat down with her granddaughter to remember her mother, Blanche, who rose from her sick bed to vote during the 1918 flu pandemic.

Best friends Jamie Olivieri and Yennie Neal-Achigbu talk about being beside each other through the highs and lows of life, and how they’ve learned to find reasons to celebrate even in the hard times.

93-year-old Rosella Pearl Liscum tells her daughter, Marlene Watson, about some of the most important friendships in her life and the lessons she learned along the way.

Two sisters, Corina Ulloa and Brenda Ulloa Martinez, came to StoryCorps with Brenda’s daughters, Camila and Isabela Martinez, to talk about growing up in Los Angeles and having to look out for each other as young girls.

84-year-old musician William Salter tells his granddaughter, Jada, how he first found his sound, and what their relationship means to him.

Mary Mills talks with her mother, Joyce Carter Mills, about growing up in the 1960s and why all the neighborhood kids wanted to be at their house.

Isaiah Acosta talks to his mom, Tarah Acosta, about being born with life-threatening health issues and how he’s done far more than beat the odds.

Connie Doria Rocha talks about her experience as a civilian mechanic during WWII, and how that taste of independence changed her life.

Malinda Edwards talks to her sister Mildred Betts about the murder of her father, Willie Edwards Jr. at the hands of the Ku Klux Klan in 1957.

Libby Stroik talks about finding a kindred spirit in her grandfather, Harry Golomski, and about her treasured memories of their quiet mornings in rural Wisconsin.

Ajmal Achekzai reflects on escaping Afghanistan as a child, returning as a U.S. Marine, and his fears and hope for the future of its people.

Gina Olaya and Kellen Quinton remember their family member, Wilma Mankiller, and talk about how she made history when she became the first woman Chief of the Cherokee Nation.

Lieutenant Colonel Abdul-Rasheed Muhammad talks to his wife, Saleemah Muhammad, about becoming the first Muslim chaplain in the U.S. Armed Forces, and the challenges of his service.

Madzimoyo Owusu talks with her daughter, Johannah Owusu, about the memory of Madzimoyo’s grandmother.

On Black Friday 1991, AIDS activists protested the department store's refusal to rehire a Santa who had HIV. The man who inspired the protest reconnects with an activist who helped organize it.

Luis Paulino and Angel Gonzalez talk about their shared experiences coming to the US from the Dominican Republic, and overcoming their challenges together.

Rabbi Philip Lazowski tells his wife Ruth about the stranger who saved him from the Nazis as a young boy, and how this fateful encounter would mark his entire life.

Vincent Mosemann and Kat Valentino reflect on their time living in their vehicles and what brought them together.

Brothers Mark Carles and David Carles talk about how they’ve dealt with Mark’s cancer diagnosis at age 24.

Harold Lucas, Jr. sits down with his daughter, D’Lorah Butts-Lucas, to remember seeing Jackie Robinson train to become the first Black player in Major League baseball.

Mandy Cooke tells Paula Reed about her enduring trauma from the 1999 Columbine High School shooting, which both women survived.

Dr. Robert Carolla remembers a small gesture from his brother’s doctor and the lasting impact it had on his career.

Charlottesville resident, Lisa Woolfork, was in the crowd of counter-protesters at the “Unite the Right” rally in 2017. Five years later, she talked with Kendall King-Sellars, another local who was also there that day.