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What makes a genius: talent, hardship, and quiet pride. - Part 1
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A single hug can reset a life. That’s how Murphy Elliott describes meeting Emma at Elizabeth W. Murphy School—the first real embrace he remembers after a hard stretch in foster care—before a string of firsts turned a quiet kid into a relentless maker: a classroom-length chalk drawing that pulled in every student, an oil painting that won a scholarship, a slide rule that drafted a ranch home built by his classmates, and a sketcher’s eye that found its way into Apollo life support diagrams.
We start where most stories don’t—at the pump in the yard and the outhouse out back, with a family line rooted on islands in the Chesapeake and a father whose tuberculosis vanished after a prayer. From there, the details stack. A broken collarbone at five while shoveling chicken coops. A pig drawn on the inside cover of a coloring book so younger siblings had something bright on a bleak Christmas. Hootenannies, trumpet practice, and math classes sharpen the tools. Then come the machines: a 1936 Chevy resurrected from boxes in a barn at thirteen; a too-loud highway test that sends cars scrambling; the humility to sell it on and buy a $35 fixer that becomes its own education. Along the way, a stepdad who can repair anything models how patience and design fit together.
The journey winds through industry and service. Tech school drafts lead to real products—the Cross Your Heart living bra components, a toothbrush profile, a tampon dispenser—and to translating computer readouts into drawings for the astronaut’s portable life support system. The Navy detour promises art, delivers administration, and still yields stories: perfect scores on hill-starts in a two-and-a-half-ton truck and chauffeuring a base captain between duties. When the uniform comes off, the refrain is familiar: “get a real job.” Murphy does, one stroke at a time—painting the local Dairy Queen, fielding house requests at the drive-through, and discovering how public work builds a private archive. Nights belong to oils on canvas, days to ladders and trim, and eventually Vancouver becomes home for three decades, where he meets his wife, raises talented kids, and paints toward an astonishing tally of 16,000 houses.
This first chapter ends with gratitude—a shout-out to supporter Susan Roberts—and a promise. The next part dives into the fine art career, family collaborations, inventions, and the choice to return to the States and start again. If you care about craft, resilience, and the unexpected roads that lead to mastery, press play and ride with us. If the story moved you, follow the show, share this with a friend, and leave a quick review so more listeners can find it.
Write to Murphy Elliott at....
https://[email protected]
Listen for Part 2 coming Next ....
Music
My free gift to the company
Commrcoyÿ
Show end
Support the show
Contact
[email protected]
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By Regina SwarnFan Mail
A single hug can reset a life. That’s how Murphy Elliott describes meeting Emma at Elizabeth W. Murphy School—the first real embrace he remembers after a hard stretch in foster care—before a string of firsts turned a quiet kid into a relentless maker: a classroom-length chalk drawing that pulled in every student, an oil painting that won a scholarship, a slide rule that drafted a ranch home built by his classmates, and a sketcher’s eye that found its way into Apollo life support diagrams.
We start where most stories don’t—at the pump in the yard and the outhouse out back, with a family line rooted on islands in the Chesapeake and a father whose tuberculosis vanished after a prayer. From there, the details stack. A broken collarbone at five while shoveling chicken coops. A pig drawn on the inside cover of a coloring book so younger siblings had something bright on a bleak Christmas. Hootenannies, trumpet practice, and math classes sharpen the tools. Then come the machines: a 1936 Chevy resurrected from boxes in a barn at thirteen; a too-loud highway test that sends cars scrambling; the humility to sell it on and buy a $35 fixer that becomes its own education. Along the way, a stepdad who can repair anything models how patience and design fit together.
The journey winds through industry and service. Tech school drafts lead to real products—the Cross Your Heart living bra components, a toothbrush profile, a tampon dispenser—and to translating computer readouts into drawings for the astronaut’s portable life support system. The Navy detour promises art, delivers administration, and still yields stories: perfect scores on hill-starts in a two-and-a-half-ton truck and chauffeuring a base captain between duties. When the uniform comes off, the refrain is familiar: “get a real job.” Murphy does, one stroke at a time—painting the local Dairy Queen, fielding house requests at the drive-through, and discovering how public work builds a private archive. Nights belong to oils on canvas, days to ladders and trim, and eventually Vancouver becomes home for three decades, where he meets his wife, raises talented kids, and paints toward an astonishing tally of 16,000 houses.
This first chapter ends with gratitude—a shout-out to supporter Susan Roberts—and a promise. The next part dives into the fine art career, family collaborations, inventions, and the choice to return to the States and start again. If you care about craft, resilience, and the unexpected roads that lead to mastery, press play and ride with us. If the story moved you, follow the show, share this with a friend, and leave a quick review so more listeners can find it.
Write to Murphy Elliott at....
https://[email protected]
Listen for Part 2 coming Next ....
Music
My free gift to the company
Commrcoyÿ
Show end
Support the show
Contact
[email protected]