The Post Title I’ve Always Dreamed of Writing: I Was Interviewed by NPR!

Friday morning my Greg-Mortenson-Controversy post went live on GeekMom. As per usual, I tweeted and Facebooked this news to my potential readership–which, in my mind, consists of eight friends from college, one amazingly hip and precocious sixteen-year-old, and a bunch of people who would actually prefer to hear how Kari Byron is doing.

My marketing responsibilities behind me for the day, I then moved on to checking my email.  I scan my inbox and immediately open an email from a familiar-sounding Larry Abramson–an email that references a developing National Public Radio story about Greg Mortenson and ends with the beautiful, beautiful words “Can you let me know how to reach you by phone?” printed above a tiny, tasteful NPR logo.

(Is there such thing as an NPR geek? Clearly, the answer to that question is YES.)

Understand: during the first ten years of my marriage, while my husband was in the Navy, I lived in five states and on two coasts. This was all well before email, social media, or affordable long-distance phone plans. NPR became the well-read friend with elegant diction that came with me to every new assignment, regaling me with beautifully-crafted, topical stories, always making me feel less alone. That email from Mr. Abramson rocketed me straight into “bucket-list” territory…

So how did my actual conversation with Mr. Abramson go? Well, you can hear the completed “Weekend Edition” segment here. I come in a little before the three-minute mark and am quoted with just one sentence. (The sentence that really nailed the story, according to many of my closest friends.) Alternatively, you can scroll down the transcript and read my response–it appears right after the words “Mr. Andrea Schwalm.”

What you cannot hear in my (nuanced) response, fortunately, are the two cats who ran into the bedroom to argue on my lap, mid-interview. Nor can you hear my oldest son, a room away, complaining loudly about being forced to give up technology for Good Friday while his mother, THE HYPOCRITE, talks on the phone, an open laptop resting on her legs…