For years, I narrated audiobooks for other people. I was grateful for the work, but somewhere inside me, a quiet truth kept tapping on my shoulder: this isn’t what I’m meant to leave behind. I enjoyed narrating, yes — but it wasn’t the kind of work that stays in the world long after you’re gone. It wasn’t a legacy.

My love for science fiction began long before any of this — back in the Orpheum Theatre in Sioux City, Iowa. I can still see it: the lights dimming, the hush falling over the room, and Planet of the Apes exploding onto the screen. That moment didn’t just entertain me. It rewired me. It opened a door in my imagination that has stayed open for more than five decades. Sci-fi became my escape, my fascination, and eventually, my home.

So when the day came that I realized I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life narrating whatever manuscript happened to land in my inbox, I looked toward that old love — vintage science fiction — and I felt something shift. I started narrating public domain stories… and I felt alive in a way I hadn’t felt for years. I felt purpose. Hope. Joy.

I wasn’t just narrating anymore.
I was preserving something.
I was building something.
I was leaving something behind.

Our first story was The Hanging Stranger by Philip K. Dick, released on August 21, 2021. And when I heard it finished — fully produced, fully alive — something inside me said, This. This is the work you were meant to do.

A few months later, we launched The Lost Sci-Fi Podcast on February 24, 2022. I was 62 years old. I pressed “publish,” and I made a promise that has guided me every day since:
Start… and never stop.

You never know, when you start a podcast, if anyone will ever hear your voice. But people listened. You listened. And you told others. You shared episodes. You posted online. You left glowing reviews. You helped build this little podcast into something bigger than I ever imagined.

Today, a little more than four years later, we have listeners in almost every country in the world. We’ve hit #1 in 43 countries. Around 35,000 people listen every month. That isn’t just an audience — it’s a community. A family of people who love these stories as much as I do.

And here’s the truth I don’t say often:
I’m in the last stages of my life. My health is fine — I’m not going anywhere today — but I’m older. And I’m aware of time in a way I never was before. I want to leave something behind. Something my wife can rely on after I’m gone. Something that matters. Something that lasts.

This podcast… these stories… this growing archive of vintage science fiction…
This is my legacy.
And you are a part of it.

If we keep going at this pace, by the time I reach my 80th birthday on May 20, 2039, we’ll have created more than 3,000 episodes of The Lost Sci-Fi Podcast. Three thousand preserved stories. Three thousand gifts to you and future listeners — and, I hope, a way to continue supporting my wife long after I can’t record anymore.

On this page, you can listen to every episode we’ve ever made — full stories, samples, everything. Listen here, or on your favorite podcast app — it doesn’t matter to us where you listen. What matters is that you’re here.

Below the episodes, you’ll find merch if you enjoy wearing or sipping your fandom. And if you ever feel moved to support the show directly, you can buy us a coffee — or a few. Every bit helps us keep going.

At the bottom of the page, you’ll find our social links, our email, and a message form. If you ever want to say hi, suggest a story, or just tell me what these episodes mean to you… I’d love to hear it.

Thank you.
For listening.
For sharing.
For keeping this dream alive.
And for helping me build something that will outlive me.

You make this possible. And I appreciate you more than I can ever say.