Spring arrives in time to forgive us our debts

It’s spring, the air is brisk, the forsythia is blooming, there’s widespread amiability afoot, and walking through Central Park you feel you could pull twenty pedestrians out of the flow and rehearse them in “New York, New York, it’s a heck of a town, the Bronx is up and the Battery’s down, the people ride in a hole in the ground.” Winter tried to hang on, like a loud drunk at closing time who staggers around and takes a swing at you but eventually you heave him into a cab and it’s spring. “All the merry little birds are flying in the floating in the very spirits singing in are winging in the blossoming,” as E.E. Cummings down on 10th Street & Greenwich Avenue wrote. “And viva, sweet love.”

New York gets a bad rap, much of it richly deserved, but spring is such a blessing you can almost forgive the rest. You wend your way from the Trinity churchyard where Mr. Hamilton lies who got not one thin dime from the musical he inspired, through the Village where brilliant and bewildered people once lived, and visit Grand Central with its starry ceiling and the Rose Reading Room of the Public Library, hike past the schist outcroppings of Central Park and Teddy Roosevelt on his horse defending the Natural History museum, the apartment palaces of the Upper West Side, the cheese department at Zabar’s where you gain weight with every deep breath you take, Harlem, the Cloisters, the mighty Hudson — and did I mention the schist outcroppings? My family forbade dirty talk and so the word “schist” is a favorite of mine.

When spring is here, the city opens its doors and spills out onto the sidewalks, diners sit under awnings on the sunny side of the street, greenmarkets set their goods out on wooden pallets, elders perch on the brownstone steps and gaze on you and me with a judicious eye but they see little kids come trotting along and their hard hearts melt. On Sunday, I walked to 83rd Street to mail some letters and passed a little Victorian firehouse, one truck wide, wedged in the row of brownstones holding off the invasion of high-rise condos. A papa stood on the corner, embracing one tall daughter, then the other. Skateboarders swooped along the bike lane, helmeted kids on scooters. Brisk walkers passing us amblers, people walking their shaggy dogs who watch for other shaggy dogs to talk to. The sun was out and there was good feeling everywhere you looked.There are prosperous writers in this neighborhood who are busy writing angsty memoirs or nonfiction about heinous acts by cruel men, so it’s up to me, a tourist of long standing, to pay witness to public happiness, the old couple feasting on fettucine in the sunshine, the proud papa, the gallant skateboarders.

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Posts to the Host

(In reference to the March 31, 2021 column, "Portrait of the columnist as an older man.")

In your column, you write, “I remember clearly that at 88th Street I tripped on the curb and fell, landing on my hands and knees, and that within four seconds, four people were there to help me, a construction guy, a woman, a young Black guy, and a man in a suit.” 

How about; “… a White Construction Guy, a White woman, a young Black guy, and a White man in a suit” so that your racism isn’t so obvious. Your effort to show that “even a black person stopped to help me … LOOK, see, they are good too …” It SUX.
A person.

Your opinion, sir or ma’am, and I beg to disagree. I’m describing a sudden terrifying moment and my immediate impressions. The crucial detail is “four seconds” and “four persons.” But in my predominantly white neighborhood, I noticed the young guy. I noticed his color. If he’d been Asian, I’d have noticed. We’re tribal people and when people unlike us cross the line to show kindness, one does notice. Read into it whatever you like, but when it happened to me and I saw those four strangers appear, I thought, “Thank you, New York.” And then, being from the Midwest, I waved them away and got up on my own steam.
Signed, No color person … just a person

GK, we’ve had enough of the old man routine. I enjoy your writing, but you have to unshackle your brain from New York and your apartment and your memories of growing up evangelical and focus on new thoughts.
John Walsh

Okay, John, but I’ve been in this New York apartment for a year for a simple reason and I am 78 years old, and I enjoy it. I don’t consider it a “routine.” But maybe I’ll come up with something new. My dream life has been rather spectacular. I remember the dreams clearly for about ten minutes after I wake up and I could give you a full account. But I’d also suggest that you not feel obliged to read a column that bores you. I find myself becoming more and more selective about reading these days. Why waste your time? 
GK

Hello, Garrison. I’m curious as to your Scrabble scoring. You mentioned your beloved had won with a score of 82 by spelling “strainer.” How did “strainer” score her 82 points?
Dorne

She got “strainer” by adding “trainer” to an S and then got 50 bonus points for the bingo, using all her letters. My problem is that I often sit looking at five or six vowels on my rack and there are only so many words like “aorta” and “onomatopoeia.” 
GK

Garrison: I’m glad you and your wife play Scrabble. My wife and I have enjoyed this game together for nearly 55 years. I get beaten two out of three games due to the fact that I married an English major who reads and understands Faulkner. I cannot get past the first page of Faulkner. I graduated in the bottom half of my high school class and my wife graduated second in her class. Had I behaved myself when I was sixteen, I might be a better Scrabble player — still, my teen years were wildly happy and I wouldn’t trade my undisciplined childhood for anything.

I am now a retired minister. You and I each grew up fundamentalist and each has evidently grown out of it without resentment. There are angry fundamentalists and loving fundamentalists and the loving ones are wonderful people — even though they still believe the world was created in seven days. Keep up your preaching, brother. We need it. 
Tom Clifton

Tom, I have a hard time putting “undisciplined childhood” and “fundamentalist” together; somehow they don’t fit. What helped me in childhood was the fact that my mother, Grace, loved Jack Benny, Red Skelton, Lucille Ball, and Jonathan Winters, which set her apart from most other Brethren, and which gave me access to her affection. She was a devout woman and expected us to toe the line but if I could make her laugh, then she forgave me. And thus one finds a career. 
GK

Skip the Botox and enjoy the myriad ways that skin can remind us of the futility of fighting this age thing. It wins, we lose, so we might as well negotiate the terms. 

Best, 
Thomas Cook

This week on A Prairie Home Companion

This week, we travel back to 1999 and revisit the fourth annual Joke Show, with guests Paula Poundstone and Robin & Linda Williams. Robin & Linda treat fans to a few banjo jokes plus versions of “Cripple Creek” and the “Mississippi Delta Blues.” Paula helps out with a few sketches, tells a solo story or two and chucks in a few one-liners and jokes. The Royal Academy of Radio Actors shine with the “Brain Surgery” sketch plus a few celebrity guest appearances. And our fine house band kicks it up with some funny foot-stomping music. Join us for a listen. The link will appear on our Facebook page at 5 p.m. CT for a group listening experience (or below if you simply cannot wait).

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Lighten up, it's time for a few laughs!
For April Fools’ Day, we brought back the Joke Show from 2014 (for a limited time)! Almost yearly since the mid ’90s, the A Prairie Home Companion staff scoured the internet in search of new jokes and fun bits to fill two hours of radio, and these shows became some of the most popular shows each season. Starting today, for the next seven days, you can watch the most recent joke show as it was broadcast from the Pantages Theatre in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in 2014. It’s a laugh a minute — though we warn you that a few jokes may not be suitable for all tastes. 

After watching the show, you may want to tell a few jokes of your own! Pretty Good Jokes LIVE contains all the jokes from 2014, plus a few more from joke segments from previous years. Or, if you still need some more fresh ones, our little joke book compiles all the jokes from the Joke Shows, plus a few bonus jokes that didn’t make it to air, into one little “pretty good” volume.

Watch the Joke Show>>>
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The Prairie Home Archive:
The www.prairiehome.org archive site contains audio streams of almost every A Prairie Home Companion show since 1991. Check it out if you haven’t already!

Also, the Garrison Keillor Facebook fan page is being updated on a daily basis with videos from the archive, plus new videos from artists and actors who have appeared on the show during its 43-year run. Most days we also have an update from Garrison himself called “The News from Manhattan.”

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The News from Lake Wobegon
From the Archives: Garrison Keillor’s The News from Lake Wobegon, 1980 is available in our online store. Yes, a newly released collection of VINTAGE stories, including the earliest version of “Tomato Butt”!

When A Prairie Home Companion went national in 1980, Garrison Keillor started turning his vignettes, updates, and letters from Lake Wobegon into a full-fledged story each week. In this vintage collection, you can hear America’s favorite storyteller hone his craft in front of a live audience, regaling them with stories about what takes place in “the little town that time forgot and decades could not improve.” 

This collection includes monologues from A Prairie Home Companion that aired in the year 1980. Over 2½ hours of stories across 3 CDs. Get From the Archives 1980 and 1981 together and save 20% (simply add both to your shopping cart).

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This collection is also available digitally in 2 parts. Same stories, same humor, but can be downloaded straight from the internet!

1980, Part 1 >>>
1980, Part 2 >>>

The Writer's Almanac:
Many people have written in recently telling us how comforting The Writer’s Almanac has been during a time of great anxiety. If you are not yet subscribed, you may be interested in hearing our free, five-minute daily program of history and poetry. You can add it to your subscription profile by scrolling to the bottom of this email and clicking “update your preferences.”

April is National Poetry Month, and we hope that you value our podcast. We ask that you consider a donation in any amount so that the show can continue to December and beyond. All donations are used to pay poets use rights and to record and produce the program. We thank you for listening and supporting The Writer’s Almanac on this day and for the past 28 years. Donations are accepted in any amount.

After many requests, we began sending a free gift (a Pop Socket for your smartphone) for donations over $100.

Again, thanks so much for your consideration of any size donation or for shopping through our store — and, of course, for continuing to listen to the show!
 

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A Prairie Home Companion Scroll Shirt

Over 40 years ago, Garrison wrote a piece about the history of the Grand Ole Opry for the New Yorker magazine. The article triggered an idea for a Midwestern version of the show, featuring music, comedy, sketches, and storytelling. And thus began A Prairie Home Companion. For the 40th anniversary of the show, we took a look at some historical shirt designs that the Grand Ole Opry created, and we borrowed their scroll concept for this handsome shirt highlighting the classic microphone logo.            

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Listen to the 40th Anniversary Show >>>