Behind the scenes of my first podcast
The genesis of my first podcast is a terrific story in itself. We are sitting in a dusty warehouse filled with cobwebs, it’s dark with decades of history hiding in secret corners of a nearly century old building. We packed up our restaurant because mom has sold the family business and is retired at 80 years old!
We never thought this day would come. She kept saying, “Two more years,” until finally we stopped asking. Then just before Christmas she asked, “What do you think? Someone wants to buy the restaurant. Is it a good idea?”
My chest tightens into a knot. It’s the last tie to my father, who died suddenly in 1988. Every time I return to Fort Chipewyan, I am overwhelmed by mixed emotions. It reminds me of my Dad. It’s where I grew up. It’s the place that has shaped me. It is the foundation for my principles and beliefs. My siblings agree. We learnt to work hard at an early age. My eldest sister, Jeannie, and I joke it’s where we became expert dishwashers, floor sweepers and potato peelers. I was running the cash register at 7. I could barely speak english but I knew how to make change. My brother and sisters made sure of it. They were just as hard as mom. They made sure I was tutored above the curve in math and science. There were no playdates, no luxuries we had to work, morning, noon and night. I didn’t always appreciate my childhood. We lived above the restaurant and to be truthful mom and I may have disagreed the most.
People often ask me, “Why don’t you do a podcast?” The answer was always, what would I talk about? My background in journalism firmly planted in television and video. It seemed like a huge undertaking to learn a new skill. But when I began to sift through my mom’s story through artifacts , antiques, and newspaper articles I knew we had to share her accomplishments. I turned my phone on and started to do what I do. I started interviewing and talking to people. In hindsight, I should have brought boom mikes and all the fancy equipment but for once I was thinking more like a daughter and less like storyteller. As cleaned out the old warehouses in the restaurant, it was so apparent the history is so deep and must be honoured. I thought someone should tell it and by nature it appeared that someone should be me. As a former journalist now media and communications consultant, it seemed natural for me to tell Kim Mah’s story. I pressed record on my smartphone. I called my assistant Julia and admitted, “I think we should do this and I know I should be more prepared but whatever great things happen in my life by accident and not design.” I know audio nerds will be all over me for this and my broadcast friends will say, “your levels are all over the place.’ Yes my talented friends, the first podcast in my series isn’t perfect. But I’m ok with that. It’s just like my family, perfectly imperfect and it was the accidental spark to a new project in my life.
At a farewell tea, we experienced our family story in the company of close friends, who packed the community hall. We saw my mom, young vibrant, beautiful, a survivor who already had endured communist China to travel to Canada to marry a man she didn’t know, my father. They inherited the family business built by my grandfather and became the Chinese family in a small town where you could buy cheeseburgers and chicken fried rice.
My son, or mini, is usually with me wherever I go and this journey was no exception. He told me, “It’s important for me to see my family legacy.” What he saw was a tight knit community that banded together to say goodbye to one of their own. He remarked, “Wow pau pau (Chinese for grandmother) is like a celebrity here! How do I get a key to a town?” He also saw what hard work looked like. He now has perspective on the luxuries he enjoys today. “I know I’m lucky, mom, I see that now.” Hmm, let’s hope that sentiment lasts.
“Wow pau pau (Chinese for grandmother) is like a celebrity here! How do I get a key to a town?” He also saw what hard work looked like. He now has perspective on the luxuries he enjoys today. “I know I’m lucky, mom, I see that now.”
A beautiful surprise on our journey through the winter ice road was proof (as if we need it) that our kids emulate us. They’re watching our every move. Good, bad and even more so when you think they aren’t. Mini is with me on many projects. And when pulled out his phone I realized he has been watching and learning. We were driving home to Edmonton and he said, “Shh, it’s my turn now.” And he interviewed us. He’s a natural storyteller. I LOVED IT. It is the best joy to be a parent and to be a role model. It made me think of my parents and grandparents, who blazed a path for both of me and mini. Every time I hear his take on the trip, I smile and my heart is full. It was the cutest moment and I’ve never been so proud.
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