An old Democrat in a chorus in the Orkneys I missed out on the GameStop frenzy on Wall Street last week and didn’t earn a bundle of money, but for me, it was enough that the temperature got up to forty, a slight thaw that made me think of spring, I being the registered optimist that I am. After all, I am a Democrat, the party that seeks to legislate against ignorance and cruelty. I believe in the goodness of people I pass on the street and I think that by July, we’ll be crowding into comedy clubs and laughing at pandemic jokes.
Other people imagine that the thaw means snow melting on the roof and leaking down the walls and dripping asphalt onto our scrambled eggs, causing incurable cancer. I do not imagine toxic snowmelt. I imagine baseball.
Ice is our friend. The ice melt on Earth is now twice what it was in the Nineties, 1.3 trillion tons a year, due to global warming, and this melt leads to the rise of oceans and more warming. Our grandchildren will have to deal with the problem and they will look back at the early 21st century as the Era of Stupidification. I regret that. But one must be hopeful. When you’re tied to the railroad track and the headlight of the Midnight Special is getting brighter and brighter, hope is what you have.
I was born in Minnesota, which most people know nothing about except that it gets cold in the winter and so wherever you go, you begin with a clean slate. A Chicagoan carries real baggage — people assume you have Mob connections or know people who do — and a Southern Californian is assumed to have an intelligence deficit caused by solar overexposure — and a New Yorker is assumed to not know where Minnesota is, not even approximately. But a Minnesotan is a blank slate. You can be Bob Dylan, you can be Walter Mondale, or anything in between. Mondale is the perfect model of a modest Minnesotan but he has his salty side too. He once told a friend of mine who asked if Walter thought he should go to work in a big law firm: “You’ll spend four years kissing ass and they won’t even turn around and say, Thank you.” Bravo, Mr. Vice President.
Complaining about cold and ice is not useful, so Minnesotans are brought up not to complain, and this is an asset. The lockdown that will soon observe its first anniversary is a time of genuine deprivation, but it could be worse, and it is worse for health care workers, bus drivers, schoolteachers, the list goes on and on, so if you’re an old retired guy locked up with a woman you dearly like to be with, shut your mouth.
I’ve found during the pandemic that my dream life has become quite rich: long novels with sustained dialogue. The other night I was working in the Orkney Islands on a trawler that hauled various goods from one port to another. The sea was calm. My shipmates spoke in a musical dialect that, odd as it was, I understood perfectly. Sometimes, hauling crates along a wharf, one of them would burst into song and we all sang together, a chorus of big burly men singing four-part harmony, rousing sea chanteys and heartbreaking laments for lost love. We walked through town past a barrelworks where men were shaping oak staves to make barrels to store whiskey in. We stopped in a tavern and had a glass of whiskey and sang some more. It was a fabulous dream. I’d love to go back and rejoin those men, if only I knew where the door is.
Back in normal times when I was busy trying to be successful, I didn’t have dreams like that. I’m grateful for them now. I dreamed one night that I was a college professor and a basketball player named Kendrick was a close friend of mine, a student, 6’6” with size 15 shoes, Black, a star player who hoped to play pro ball in France. His girlfriend was French. He had withering things to say about Midwestern Scandinavians but he loved Paris and was eager to go. He was a happy guy, very gentle, and in the dream I sat and listened to him talk and talk. It was beautiful.
The newspaper bears dreadful news and of course one must pay attention. There is suffering in the world beyond my comprehension. But I am grateful for good dreams. And for the vaccine. And spring is on the way. |
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A Prairie Home Classic: one to remember! On February 4, 2010, the audience at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul enjoyed a special edition of A Prairie Home Companion. So did fans in movie theaters across the United States and Canada. They were watching (or on February 6th, listening) to the first-ever Prairie Home cinecast.
Guests included legendary English singer-songwriter Elvis Costello, vocal powerhouses Jearlyn and Jevetta Steele, songstress Heather Masse, and Robin and Linda Williams. Also on the program, the Royal Academy of Radio Actors: Sue Scott, Tim Russell, and Erica Rhodes. Both Tom Keith and Fred Newman were on hand to create sound-effects mayhem. All this, plus the Guy’s All-Star Shoe Band, episodes of “Guy Noir” and “Lives of the Cowboys,” and of course, the News from Lake Wobegon.
This was a near-perfect show, and as the merchandise manager, I have to say “near-perfect” because Garrison always said he would retire when he finally got one show perfect! What an incredible evening, whether you listen via our link or whether you grab the DVD and become part of the audience! (Remember, the link to each week’s classic show appears on our Facebook page at 5 p.m. CT.)
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That Time of Year: A Minnesota Life Since it is impossible to gather together for a book signing or reading, we asked Garrison to tell us what he learned from reading his memoir. So here, he shares stories from his childhood to the production of A Prairie Home Companion along with a few other tidbits from his new memoir. Enjoy until we can gather together in person! Remember, the book is available wherever you get your books (but we do have signed copies in our store). Watch 'What I Learned Reading My Memoir' >>>
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From the Archives: The News from Lake Wobegon 1982 The first batch of stories from 1982 is now available. It has just made its debut on Amazon and iTunes. These stories have been locked in a vault and not heard since the mid-1980s. So if you need a Garrison Keillor fix, this downloadable set will have you enchanted for a few hours. More information in coming weeks as we add it to our store and other platforms. Download from Amazon >>>
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Pilgrims: A Lake Wobegon Romance A brilliant story filled with insights into love, heartbreak, and friendship. Pilgrims starts out with Marjorie Krebsbach dreaming up the idea of a trip to Rome in hopes of inspiring love and passion from her husband, Carl. Her altruistic pilgrimage becomes the talk of the town, with 50 fellow travelers booked to fly along. After warning them of typhus and food poisoning and the seriousness of diarrhea, she still has 10 fellow travelers.
Pilgrims is the story of this group's journey to Rome — a pilgrimage that stirs up memories of long-forgotten incidents and stories of astonishing frankness and self-revelation, all delivered with Keillor’s trademark humor. It’s a trip you won’t want to miss. Here is Garrison's Chauceresque prologue to the book:
From our small town the group had come
To view the glory that was Rome
Wellspring of art and poetry
And so much of our curriculum,
Science and mathematics and more recently
Pizza whose richness our pilgrims knew
Quite well. Now of this company
Of twelve citizens, good and true,
Was one named Marjorie Krebsbach
Who had assembled the crew
(Though she was shy and slow to talk)
To carry out a mission: to place
A photograph upon a burial rock
And give to grief a proper face
Of a young man lost in the Great War
And say a prayer for God’s abundant grace.
But something else she traveled for
And that was to warm her husband’s heart
Which had turned cold. For more
Than three months they’d slept apart
And she intended, if the truth be told,
To reignite his passion and to start
A new romance out of the old,
Which some say is impossible.
But they have not read St. Matthew’s gospel,
The promise of the resurrection—
Mortality may change direction.
And that was why she flew to Rome,
To win his heart and bring him home. Continue reading >>>
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| As we start fresh in 2021, we need to focus on unifying this country. Let's have honest and respectful conversations always searching for common ground and do our best to "Make America Intelligent Again." Get the hat >>> |
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| Revisit the Lake Wobegon places and people we know and love––The Chatterbox Cafe, the Sidetrack Tap, the Church of Our Lady of Perpetual Responsibility, the Bunsens and the Krebsbachs––in this collection of tales from Garrison Keillor. The stories are full of gentle humor and surprising insights into family, relationships, community, faith and hope. The third disc captures all the stories of Pastor Liz, from her arrival onward. Over 3 hours on 3 discs. Listen to a sample >>>
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