Your Thanksgiving column talking about old songs reminded me of my own old song story. I was raised in Auburn NY, in the Finger Lakes, a great place to be from. At Holy Family school, several years in a row, the nuns had a violin player come to entertain the grade schoolers. He was just a little man in a blue suit with a violin but he would tell us about De Bussey and his wonderful music. Than he would play Clair De Lune on his violin, the nuns woule all cry and dab their eyes with tissue pulled from their sleeves. All us kids just stared and knew to clap when the nuns did. Looking back now, I realize that I soaked enough De Bussey up to still enjoy some classical music now and again.
Dear Garrison, I have an extra three years on you and a Minnesota birthplace. You’ve summed it up so well. My Erie was "The Erie Canal", but all the other songs run true. My Erie also included swimming in the lake before it set fire. There were the lead based toothpaste tubes, playing with the mercury that leaked from a gauge on the furnace oil tank, mercury amalgam fillings, breathing the fumes of chain smoking parents and of my dad’s favorite fireplace fuel, old creosote soaked railroad ties. And yet I survived! If our world survives, the children and grandchildren should have even greater longevity. Lida Rose, we’ll be seeing you at Lake Lida....
GK: Don't forget we "old men" were also praying at the Thanksgiving table again. You've had some prayerful pieces over the years in your columns, and elsewhere. Best of all, I thought, was the one where you ended a Star Tribune column some years ago in which you said at the end of your Thanksgiving prayer: "More we do not need." Indeed we don't. Let's share with those who do need!
I also share that quotable quip at our Thanksgiving table each year as I finish our prayer.....but with one more exhortation: "God bless the cook!" Indeed. And thank you!- TK
PS: I love this closing of yours: "I was the oldest person at our Thanksgiving table and I didn’t say much because the kids were so lively and funny and why bring them down with a lecture about the wonders of old age, including the fact that every morning is an occasion of gratitude. I’ll let them discover that for themselves, Lord willing." - They are now growing up and reaching out and doing unto others. More I do not need.
You are right about people becoming more alike as they get older. When I went to my 50th high school reunion several years ago I was amazed at how much I had in common with so many people who weren't even my friends back then. Many of them had also been through divorces and remarriages and had step children and step grandchildren.
Mr. Keillor, I always enjoy what you share, though at times I might not agree. I very much enjoyed this column. Though personally I cannot relate the same childhood sharing of holiday's, mine were a bit on the other side of the fence, until I was married to my first husband. It was a large Italian family, 26 people usually at our Thanksgiving and Christmas table. We women cooked and baked for days. Food of every kind was everywhere. There was one Aunt on my husbands side that always said her own prayer aloud every year, it goes "Turkey for Thanksgiving, my what a treat, am I glad I'm living, cause am I going to eat." That simple prayer seems like it is a hundred years old to me now, since I am almost three years ahead of you, but every since, year after year, where ever I have been, with people or alone, I have repeated that prayer out loud. Since I am alone now, for the first time in 15 years I had two neighbors bring me a Thanksgiving Dinner to my surprise. and I thanked the Lord, there still are kind people out there.... Since I am a writer, I wrote on and off yesterday. I post each night on LinkedIn to a bit of 8,000 followers. I post nature, artists, sayings, any old thing I find interesting. To my surprise over the years people look forward to what ever I post, commenting, sending likes and the love icon. Yesterday I came across of photo of a young woman leaning on a wood fence in front of a desert. There was something about her, her half dressed nature, her hair wild in the wind, with this empty desert behind her. I set the photo first and then I wrote what it made me feel/think about. Sharing it here, maybe you will read it, maybe not, maybe others will, hopefully it will 'grab' someone....
It does not matter if they are male or female, or anyone in-between, you can't explain the fact they take your breath away. They could be the kind of person you see everyday passing like a hundred others regardless of where you are. They could have a loud appearance, or one of hundreds that blend into obscurity. But on this day, only this day, what you never noticed before makes you shiver from the inside out, and even that is up for grabs. That is when you realize it has always been the unexplainable that grabs your attention. It doesn't necessarily mean the unexplainable is always a person, which in its own way in your mind points you first to a simple thing you learned years ago in some class long forgotten, that statement on a crummy blackboard, name a person, a place or thing - simply put a Noun. And now this is the day, here is the person, here is the place, but the thing, the thing that grabs you isn't unexplainable, its appearance is so brief it is unattainable. And there lies what will haunt your thoughts not just for that moment, but years on and off - trying to unite the unattainable that cannot exist without the person, and the place, and the unexplainable thing.
LOL!! I do remember some of those songs, but we did not have that song book in The Bronx! Never heard about a Grasshopper or Erie (except for The Erie Canal). Talk about the "gifted track", we have a new school here. The Early College High School. My friend, who taught school for 40 years, thinks it's ridiculous!! I used to sing for weddings, and 30+ years ago the church organist refused to play John Lennon, so I found someone else to play. The couple had a right to their song choice. At about the same time I was on a camping trip and a friend and I went around entertaining other campers with a duet of You Are My Sunshine in wonderful harmony!!!! Fond memories, thank you!!!
Thank you again and hope you had a good Thanksgiving. I too was the oldest (87) at the table, with a card table at the head of the table for the young kids. I too was silent and grateful for being there.
Love your story about singing at the convocation. Just asking if you ever sang a song which my mother played on the piano (by ear) when I was a child? "Oh, the bulldog on the bank and the bullfrog in the pool, and the bulldog called the bullfrog a green old water fool", which always made me laugh and love my mother's alto voice. Strange little song, isn't it? Probably there are other stanzas, but lost to time and memory... Lolo Kable
Because of entropy, we gathered on Sunday and I sat away from the hubbub. Being the Great-grandpa is cool enough. My granddaughter sits next to me and gives me a simple test. "What color are your socks.?" Later she asks me about my Grampy Poire and I give her details, anecdotes, and scandal... and left out stuff in case there was a follow-up. If it was a test, I never had such a gentle loving teacher in my life. But I think I would have passed if I'd just said. /When is the pie? I want pie!."
Dang I want to sing those old, often non PC, songs again. Where are my peeps?
Your Thanksgiving column talking about old songs reminded me of my own old song story. I was raised in Auburn NY, in the Finger Lakes, a great place to be from. At Holy Family school, several years in a row, the nuns had a violin player come to entertain the grade schoolers. He was just a little man in a blue suit with a violin but he would tell us about De Bussey and his wonderful music. Than he would play Clair De Lune on his violin, the nuns woule all cry and dab their eyes with tissue pulled from their sleeves. All us kids just stared and knew to clap when the nuns did. Looking back now, I realize that I soaked enough De Bussey up to still enjoy some classical music now and again.
A good decision.
Dear Garrison, I have an extra three years on you and a Minnesota birthplace. You’ve summed it up so well. My Erie was "The Erie Canal", but all the other songs run true. My Erie also included swimming in the lake before it set fire. There were the lead based toothpaste tubes, playing with the mercury that leaked from a gauge on the furnace oil tank, mercury amalgam fillings, breathing the fumes of chain smoking parents and of my dad’s favorite fireplace fuel, old creosote soaked railroad ties. And yet I survived! If our world survives, the children and grandchildren should have even greater longevity. Lida Rose, we’ll be seeing you at Lake Lida....
GK: Don't forget we "old men" were also praying at the Thanksgiving table again. You've had some prayerful pieces over the years in your columns, and elsewhere. Best of all, I thought, was the one where you ended a Star Tribune column some years ago in which you said at the end of your Thanksgiving prayer: "More we do not need." Indeed we don't. Let's share with those who do need!
I also share that quotable quip at our Thanksgiving table each year as I finish our prayer.....but with one more exhortation: "God bless the cook!" Indeed. And thank you!- TK
PS: I love this closing of yours: "I was the oldest person at our Thanksgiving table and I didn’t say much because the kids were so lively and funny and why bring them down with a lecture about the wonders of old age, including the fact that every morning is an occasion of gratitude. I’ll let them discover that for themselves, Lord willing." - They are now growing up and reaching out and doing unto others. More I do not need.
Thank you!
One if my favorite columns...
Right up there with when you wrote about attending church...and this one had a hint of that.
Blessings to you in December 🙏🎶💖
You are right about people becoming more alike as they get older. When I went to my 50th high school reunion several years ago I was amazed at how much I had in common with so many people who weren't even my friends back then. Many of them had also been through divorces and remarriages and had step children and step grandchildren.
Your post today, sir, prompted me to respond with a post of my own, and I decided to just link yours and give my thoughts. If you'd care to read it...
https://jimmylogan.blogspot.com/2022/11/black-friday.html
Loved it!
Your description of not wanting to interrupt the youthful holiday joy is right on!
Mr. Keillor, I always enjoy what you share, though at times I might not agree. I very much enjoyed this column. Though personally I cannot relate the same childhood sharing of holiday's, mine were a bit on the other side of the fence, until I was married to my first husband. It was a large Italian family, 26 people usually at our Thanksgiving and Christmas table. We women cooked and baked for days. Food of every kind was everywhere. There was one Aunt on my husbands side that always said her own prayer aloud every year, it goes "Turkey for Thanksgiving, my what a treat, am I glad I'm living, cause am I going to eat." That simple prayer seems like it is a hundred years old to me now, since I am almost three years ahead of you, but every since, year after year, where ever I have been, with people or alone, I have repeated that prayer out loud. Since I am alone now, for the first time in 15 years I had two neighbors bring me a Thanksgiving Dinner to my surprise. and I thanked the Lord, there still are kind people out there.... Since I am a writer, I wrote on and off yesterday. I post each night on LinkedIn to a bit of 8,000 followers. I post nature, artists, sayings, any old thing I find interesting. To my surprise over the years people look forward to what ever I post, commenting, sending likes and the love icon. Yesterday I came across of photo of a young woman leaning on a wood fence in front of a desert. There was something about her, her half dressed nature, her hair wild in the wind, with this empty desert behind her. I set the photo first and then I wrote what it made me feel/think about. Sharing it here, maybe you will read it, maybe not, maybe others will, hopefully it will 'grab' someone....
It does not matter if they are male or female, or anyone in-between, you can't explain the fact they take your breath away. They could be the kind of person you see everyday passing like a hundred others regardless of where you are. They could have a loud appearance, or one of hundreds that blend into obscurity. But on this day, only this day, what you never noticed before makes you shiver from the inside out, and even that is up for grabs. That is when you realize it has always been the unexplainable that grabs your attention. It doesn't necessarily mean the unexplainable is always a person, which in its own way in your mind points you first to a simple thing you learned years ago in some class long forgotten, that statement on a crummy blackboard, name a person, a place or thing - simply put a Noun. And now this is the day, here is the person, here is the place, but the thing, the thing that grabs you isn't unexplainable, its appearance is so brief it is unattainable. And there lies what will haunt your thoughts not just for that moment, but years on and off - trying to unite the unattainable that cannot exist without the person, and the place, and the unexplainable thing.
Lovely!!
Marjorie, thank you.
LOL!! I do remember some of those songs, but we did not have that song book in The Bronx! Never heard about a Grasshopper or Erie (except for The Erie Canal). Talk about the "gifted track", we have a new school here. The Early College High School. My friend, who taught school for 40 years, thinks it's ridiculous!! I used to sing for weddings, and 30+ years ago the church organist refused to play John Lennon, so I found someone else to play. The couple had a right to their song choice. At about the same time I was on a camping trip and a friend and I went around entertaining other campers with a duet of You Are My Sunshine in wonderful harmony!!!! Fond memories, thank you!!!
Grand slam entertainment!
Thank you again and hope you had a good Thanksgiving. I too was the oldest (87) at the table, with a card table at the head of the table for the young kids. I too was silent and grateful for being there.
Write me a letter, send it by mail; send it in care of the Birmingham jail.
Love your story about singing at the convocation. Just asking if you ever sang a song which my mother played on the piano (by ear) when I was a child? "Oh, the bulldog on the bank and the bullfrog in the pool, and the bulldog called the bullfrog a green old water fool", which always made me laugh and love my mother's alto voice. Strange little song, isn't it? Probably there are other stanzas, but lost to time and memory... Lolo Kable
Because of entropy, we gathered on Sunday and I sat away from the hubbub. Being the Great-grandpa is cool enough. My granddaughter sits next to me and gives me a simple test. "What color are your socks.?" Later she asks me about my Grampy Poire and I give her details, anecdotes, and scandal... and left out stuff in case there was a follow-up. If it was a test, I never had such a gentle loving teacher in my life. But I think I would have passed if I'd just said. /When is the pie? I want pie!."