Podcast 57 - "A motorcycle roars past and I remember my motorcycle ride on the winding roads of Patmos with my girlfriend hanging on to me, a nerdy writer suddenly become daredevil Evel Keillor. "
My big brother did for me what your father once did for you, Mr. Keillor. He took me to New York City when he was in college and working summers at the Bethlehem Steel Company when we were living with our grandparents in Bethlehem, PA, back when our father was in Vietnam. My brother took me to the top of the Empire State Building, to the crown of the Statue of Liberty, to see an aging Mickey Mantle pinch hit in a day game at the old Yankee Stadium, and then to China Town, where through the open doorway of a bar as we passed by on the sidewalk, I saw a nicely dressed young Chinese woman fall right off her bar stool, passed out drunk in the middle of the afternoon. There was also a religious nut that we saw somewhere else who was wearing a sandwich board sign warning everyone he passed "PREPARE TO MEET THY DOOM!" I never did go home after that and prepare, but now some sixty years later I do believe that the religious nut might have been on to something.
Walking - I so miss it. At 16 when everyone I knew was getting a driver’s license, I thought “what’s the point.” I loved walking everywhere. Sometimes to the trolley (in Dayton, Ohio, our buses), taking it to the last stop and ambling (that glorious word and action) home with stops on the way. A move to DC where I’ve lived in different quadrants for 46 years now, afforded more purposeful walking (errands; to and from work or theatre or films or Kramerbooks.) A NYC working stint on 7th Av meant more to and from shared living space. Or just walking that was joy. And evidently my downfall: schlepping shopping bags on my shoulders made my back increasingly fragile. Surgery didn’t work. So tho now upright with help, not walking tho in my mind’s eye, I do. Thank you for your walks and the descriptions.
Because I truly admire your disdain for the American fetish object, the car and your love of walking I would like to try to impart some hopefully useful information if I may be allowed. There are a number of yoga exercises that can be practiced that help greatly at strengthening the back and spine. No need for Dr. Bonesaw or Big Pharma drugs. In my opinion it is never too late. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise! Best regards!
What were you doing in the Greek islands, Mr. Keillor? If I may presumptuously ask? I suppose what every red-blooded American (or British Poet) does. Fighting of the invading Persians, millions of them, lead by Xerxes or Darius or one of those eastern satraps or claptraps. The free and democratic Greeks vs. the enslaved and subjugated Medes and Parsi.
It's a good fight. One just doesn't want to be in the middle of it, is all. But watching from a distance.
"I had the Mississippi River and woods to go wander off alone in and so I picked up a pencil and a Roy Rogers tablet and wrote, as I am doing now."
Yes, a thoughtful person can do nothing but wander off, if not in thought, but in body, surely. Small groups of good buddies with you can point out the song in the woods, and which bird is cause. My day-trip was with my bike and my bike buddies, over 70 years ago and through the bike paths we flew....and fast we pedaled, but not unnoticing the wooshes of the branches we ducked.
Away we flew, breathless on the bike paths, and still breathless down deep hillside to the yards of many bricks, too heavy to carry back up the deep hillside, and no place to put them on our bikes. It does stop us and make us wonder and woof off we were again to the next challenge. Thrilled but but not careless.
That's the rub for the woods and hillsides. Be not careless.
As a boy, I too lived with the freedom of the Mississippi three blocks away in St. Paul. I returned from Indiana two summers ago to revisit those banks celebrating positive medical news in Rochester and decided that my mother's warnings were right. They are steep, fit for goats and 9-year-olds. And in the winter you could walk the few steps to Minneapolis. And in the spring the ice would crack and moan. 'Just make sure you're home for dinner!' and, amazingly, we always were.
We also included a night in that hotel downtown with the memorable restaurant that specializes in Walleye. A true celebration-of-life!
I am several years younger, but envision everything you portray in your podcast. I too, roamed down Columbus Ave, with my 7 yr old cousin, Mike. I was 8. We were a fearless team in 1955. Grandma Tobits sent us out the door from 47 W. 87th St. She was busy. She supplied us with quarters for Horn & Hardarts and 15 cent subway tokens. She was the Superintendent of a 5-story Brownstone had little time for our shenanigans. Be back for dinner. We became experts on the subway - always standing in the very front alongside the engineer to hear his stories and learn what we could. From Battery Park to Yankee Stadium. From West 87th St to Coney Island. For four months in the summer of '55, we explored all Manhattan, Brooklyn, The Bronx, & Queens. Never ventured out to Staten Island. Did we miss anything? Your podcast helps sharpen my aging memory. Thank you so much, Garrison! I so loved my summers in NYC. Way better than Disneyland.
My “Rule of 80”: One hand on the bannister-no exceptions!
For some it maybe should be 70, or 60; but for me it was the second “knee-flex-ouch-jerk” on a flight of concrete stairs at the age of 80.
I do enjoy the sightseeing … I see more when walking slower. 😃
My big brother did for me what your father once did for you, Mr. Keillor. He took me to New York City when he was in college and working summers at the Bethlehem Steel Company when we were living with our grandparents in Bethlehem, PA, back when our father was in Vietnam. My brother took me to the top of the Empire State Building, to the crown of the Statue of Liberty, to see an aging Mickey Mantle pinch hit in a day game at the old Yankee Stadium, and then to China Town, where through the open doorway of a bar as we passed by on the sidewalk, I saw a nicely dressed young Chinese woman fall right off her bar stool, passed out drunk in the middle of the afternoon. There was also a religious nut that we saw somewhere else who was wearing a sandwich board sign warning everyone he passed "PREPARE TO MEET THY DOOM!" I never did go home after that and prepare, but now some sixty years later I do believe that the religious nut might have been on to something.
A “…motorcycle ride on the winding roads of Patmos with my girlfriend hanging on to me…”
Your apocalyptic Brethren ancestors must be in awe.
(I know I am.)
Walking - I so miss it. At 16 when everyone I knew was getting a driver’s license, I thought “what’s the point.” I loved walking everywhere. Sometimes to the trolley (in Dayton, Ohio, our buses), taking it to the last stop and ambling (that glorious word and action) home with stops on the way. A move to DC where I’ve lived in different quadrants for 46 years now, afforded more purposeful walking (errands; to and from work or theatre or films or Kramerbooks.) A NYC working stint on 7th Av meant more to and from shared living space. Or just walking that was joy. And evidently my downfall: schlepping shopping bags on my shoulders made my back increasingly fragile. Surgery didn’t work. So tho now upright with help, not walking tho in my mind’s eye, I do. Thank you for your walks and the descriptions.
Because I truly admire your disdain for the American fetish object, the car and your love of walking I would like to try to impart some hopefully useful information if I may be allowed. There are a number of yoga exercises that can be practiced that help greatly at strengthening the back and spine. No need for Dr. Bonesaw or Big Pharma drugs. In my opinion it is never too late. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise! Best regards!
Thank you, Tom. Yes, some are being tried. And I haven’t given up - I have dreams of doing marvelous walks!
What were you doing in the Greek islands, Mr. Keillor? If I may presumptuously ask? I suppose what every red-blooded American (or British Poet) does. Fighting of the invading Persians, millions of them, lead by Xerxes or Darius or one of those eastern satraps or claptraps. The free and democratic Greeks vs. the enslaved and subjugated Medes and Parsi.
It's a good fight. One just doesn't want to be in the middle of it, is all. But watching from a distance.
Happy Trails To You, Cowboy Roy!!
"I had the Mississippi River and woods to go wander off alone in and so I picked up a pencil and a Roy Rogers tablet and wrote, as I am doing now."
Yes, a thoughtful person can do nothing but wander off, if not in thought, but in body, surely. Small groups of good buddies with you can point out the song in the woods, and which bird is cause. My day-trip was with my bike and my bike buddies, over 70 years ago and through the bike paths we flew....and fast we pedaled, but not unnoticing the wooshes of the branches we ducked.
Away we flew, breathless on the bike paths, and still breathless down deep hillside to the yards of many bricks, too heavy to carry back up the deep hillside, and no place to put them on our bikes. It does stop us and make us wonder and woof off we were again to the next challenge. Thrilled but but not careless.
That's the rub for the woods and hillsides. Be not careless.
As a boy, I too lived with the freedom of the Mississippi three blocks away in St. Paul. I returned from Indiana two summers ago to revisit those banks celebrating positive medical news in Rochester and decided that my mother's warnings were right. They are steep, fit for goats and 9-year-olds. And in the winter you could walk the few steps to Minneapolis. And in the spring the ice would crack and moan. 'Just make sure you're home for dinner!' and, amazingly, we always were.
We also included a night in that hotel downtown with the memorable restaurant that specializes in Walleye. A true celebration-of-life!
I am several years younger, but envision everything you portray in your podcast. I too, roamed down Columbus Ave, with my 7 yr old cousin, Mike. I was 8. We were a fearless team in 1955. Grandma Tobits sent us out the door from 47 W. 87th St. She was busy. She supplied us with quarters for Horn & Hardarts and 15 cent subway tokens. She was the Superintendent of a 5-story Brownstone had little time for our shenanigans. Be back for dinner. We became experts on the subway - always standing in the very front alongside the engineer to hear his stories and learn what we could. From Battery Park to Yankee Stadium. From West 87th St to Coney Island. For four months in the summer of '55, we explored all Manhattan, Brooklyn, The Bronx, & Queens. Never ventured out to Staten Island. Did we miss anything? Your podcast helps sharpen my aging memory. Thank you so much, Garrison! I so loved my summers in NYC. Way better than Disneyland.