Your reflections on your mother on her bicycle brought to mind a picture of my then 5 year old mother taken as she was hanging doll clothes out to dry on the back porch of her parents farm home. (Side note: the photo was taken with my maternal grandparent’s the still surviving Brownie Model 0 camera, quite a luxury for a farm family in 1921.) Its interesting to ponder what her dreams might have been at that moment .
You sir, most certainly are and have been an influencer for at least a few generations of those who followed your radio show and your writing. You influence me to look at life and relationships from other, often more generous, perspectives and that my friend is worth something in my book. Dream on, of things past and things yet to come, and tell us all about them!
The concept of legacy pops into your head when you turn 70 and figure you might have 10 more years. I never married so never had kids, although nowadays those two possibilities aren’t as solidly linked as when I was a kid. I’ve had some fine cats, but all they will say about me is I fed them, and kept the litter box clean. Not exactly what the future needs to know about me.
I did curate some good exhibits for the National Quilt Museum when I worked there. I don’t know if anyone will care: quilts don’t have the cachet of a Matisse or a Van Gogh which is to my mind a tragedy. I look at Cassett’s The Boating Party and am transported, it’s a transcendent moment, the composition is flawless, the scene alive. Yet no one slept under that canvas, no one hid their fears and tears under it as sometimes happens with a quilt. Nobody read Lake Woebegone Days wrapped in those canvases. Anonymous people, mostly women, made so many quilts that created cocoons of warmth and love for their true legacy, their families.
When you ponder the end of your life, you’re actually pondering anonymity.
Mr. Keillor, your books on my shelf are falling apart from repeated readings. I firmly believe they will have a solid following in perpetuity. We are a storytelling species, alway have been always will be.
I talk to my dead friends and relatives, too. I figure that as long as it's in my head, it's not insanity. As you point out, it's a sort of immortality - as long as I can still hear them and communicate with them, they're still here. Authors are like that too, their books can move their thoughts and voices into their readers's minds, where they can live on for another generation, potentially forever through the future generations if they're good enough. You're wrong about not being an "influencer," though; your words are running around in my brain and you are a very good influence. Thank you...
A beautiful and haunting piece of writing as the toaster warms and coffee is hotl. My question Garrison is do you dream of the characters in lake Wobegon as if they are real? And who would be riding off on a bicycle just as you awake? Happy Wednesday morning from Milwaukee.
I don't dream about them but sometimes, in writing about them, the imagination does go free and you come to surprising discoveries. I've known for a long time that Pastor Liz is gay and Dorothy who owns the Chatterbox is a Black woman. I never thought it necessary to say so but I knew it was true.
Sometimes when I write a fictional piece I am amazed how the characters can become friends in a way. But I am more amazed that these "friends" were created from just sitting sown to an empty spiral notebook.
Why is it that by the time we are curious enough about our past to ask questions about it, there's nobody left who knows the answers? I had the chance to put my dear old dad on video and ask him question, but all I managed to do was get him to recite "'Erbert and the Electricity" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8DyaFYIj2w) and the alphabet backwards. You and your family will live on, however, in your writing. And while your family might not give a hoot, or will accuse you of getting it wrong or exaggerating, we surely do appreciate it!
I haven't given them enough credit. My father's sibings were passionate gardeners and devout students of Scripture and they expected their children to work up to their ability and not be slackers.
I floated through your words as if dreaming them. You made me think of my maternal grandparents. My San Francisco Muni maintenance supervisor Grandpa, who was orphaned and rode a stagecoach and then a train alone from San Francisco to a family ranch in Calgary, Canada, at nine. Ans my witty, never-sit-down Grandma who supported her younger siblings after her SF Fireman father died on duty in 1925.
When I knew them, they were quiet and humble. They kept me stable and secure in an otherwise volatile life.
I would love to hear their stories.
Unlike me, spouting mine to anyone who will listen via pages and posts, Grandma and Grandpa had to be pleaded with to "tell that story about the time..." around the dining table.
On Saturday mornings, when I was little, I would crawl into bed with my grandparents, and say, "Tell me about the olden days." I still wish I could hear their tales about the olden days.
I want to hear more about your olden days. Your parents, their humble ways. They're like meditation in a crazy world.
In 1984 or so I landed in Minneapolis as a journalist and one of my very first tastes of Minnesota was to attend a PHC performance. After following you in all those years since, I know you are a person who knows his Bible.
So I began mulling your statement about resurrection in today’s post.
I would like to be arisen as a hunk of granite -- impervious forever to human stupidly.
Would it be Scripturally sound for me to pray for this?
Or would that make me dumb as a rock?
Patrick Houston, a born-Pennsylvanian who claims Minnesota as his home state
I believe that our eternal destination is not for us to express preferences ––– prayer is for this life and we pray primarily for others, asking no special favors for ourselves. Scripture is clear about what we're to do ––– Love our neighbors ––– and there's no way around that. GK
I read the question you considered asking your mother: “Do you realize you’re going to have 6 kids and not much money…?” It seems to me that you’re posing that question, from a business head, not a parent’s heart! As a parent, I’m pretty certain that there are cherished memories that are as much a part of you, as they are of your children!
I have a PHC tape in the cupboard that contains a couple of “Dad” stories. One is about roasting a turkey, and having it escape out of the pan and sliding across the floor. More to the point, though, is the tale in which your toddler daughter has escaped you while you were attempting to change a diaper. She’s dribbling all across the floor as you go chasing after her!
I’m sure your parents have equally personal stories about the six of you siblings! There was the one you tell,, for instance, about your family raising your own chickens. You, as the chief chicken-catcher, ran around with a wire hook, catching them so your parents could turn them into chicken dinner.
Those wonderful family tales were “grist for your humor mill!” And- it seems to me, that a little “poverty” can add spice to life. It makes the future less certain, and gives cause for tremendous sighs of relief when everything turns out all right! Many people would be embarrassed to say that they grew up in a "poor" family. And yet - the very honesty with which you related your childhood memories is one of the biggest gifts that you could give your audience "out there!" Very few of us grew up in a household like Jack Benny's, for instance. Supposedly, he kept his valuables in a cellar, guarded by a crocodile (or was it an alligator- I don't recall!).
I think that your frankness is one of the things that has endeared you the most to your followers! I'm not a great "radio historian," but I wouldn't be surprised if you have been among the first, if not "THE PIONEER" in "Reality Comedy! " Thanks so much for your fresh approach, and the humility that allows you to confess something like "losing control of the Thanksgiving turkey!"
Actually, I haven't listened to that tape for a while. I don't have a functioning tape player right now. As I recall, the reall issue was about all that greasy trail across the kitchen floor. I suppose it was cleaned up somehow. My memory is that the turkey was consumed in the ordinary way. Right???
I read the question you considered asking your mother: “Do you realize you’re going to have 6 kids and not much money…?” It seems to me that you’re posing that question, from a business head, not a parent’s heart! As a parent, I’m pretty certain that there are cherished memories that are as much a part of you, as they are of your children!
I have a PHC tape in the cupboard that contains a couple of “Dad” stories. One is about roasting a turkey, and having it escape out of the pan and sliding across the floor. More to the point, though, is the tale in which your toddler daughter has escaped you while you were attempting to change a diaper. She’s dribbling all across the floor as you go chasing after her!
I’m sure your parents have equally personal stories about the six of you siblings! There was the one you tell,, for instance, about your family raising your own chickens. You, as the chief chicken-catcher, ran around with a wire hook, catching them so your parents could turn them into chicken dinner.
Those wonderful family tales were “grist for your humor mill!” And- it seems to me, that a little “poverty” can add spice to life. It makes the future less certain, and gives cause for tremendous sighs of relief when everything turns out all right! Many people would be embarrassed to say that they grew up in a "poor" family. And yet - the very honesty with which you related your childhood memories is one of the biggest gifts that you could give your audience "out there!" Very few of us grew up in a household like Jack Benny's, for instance. Supposedly, he kept his valuables in a cellar, guarded by a crocodile (or was it an alligator- I don't recall!).
I think that your frankness is one of the things that has endeared you the most to your followers! I'm not a great "radio historian," but I wouldn't be surprised if you have been among the first, if not "THE PIONEER" in "Reality Comedy! " Thanks so much for your fresh approach, and the humility that allows you to confess something like "losing control of the Thanksgiving turkey!"
I read every word you write and hear your voice in my head when I read them I've seen you three times at three different venues and enjoyed everyone I even figured out how to put your stories on stage and now that their is CG it would be easier I tried to tell you once but your piano player wouldn't let me in the back door oh well I am also a happy bubbly person at the age of 76 and I too believe the world belongs to the young I don't have an audience you do and I've always been grateful to read what you write it must be awesome to be loved by so many with all the bubbly Happy Feelings in my heart thank you Garrison Keillor
I was kind of taken aback when you talked about middle age kids of parents who made them listemn to Praire Home Companion when they were young. It made me realized that we do have a 50 and 47 year old sons (and two spares 43 and 39) who we made listen almost every other weekend when we drove the 120 miles to visit both sets of grandparents. (They lived a few blocks apart.) I guess it may have been a little overkill as some weekends we would go grandparenting on Saturday evening and come home on Sunday night and we were able to listen to the Saturday live show and relisten to the replay the next evening. No wonder none of them heard "She has Betty Davis Eyes" enough times to memorize the lyrics.
Your reflections on your mother on her bicycle brought to mind a picture of my then 5 year old mother taken as she was hanging doll clothes out to dry on the back porch of her parents farm home. (Side note: the photo was taken with my maternal grandparent’s the still surviving Brownie Model 0 camera, quite a luxury for a farm family in 1921.) Its interesting to ponder what her dreams might have been at that moment .
You sir, most certainly are and have been an influencer for at least a few generations of those who followed your radio show and your writing. You influence me to look at life and relationships from other, often more generous, perspectives and that my friend is worth something in my book. Dream on, of things past and things yet to come, and tell us all about them!
Willie K
I couldn't agree more!
Oh yes you were and are an influencer! You steer us all away from pride, the deadliest and towards the Greatest of Faith, Hope and Love. Thank you.
What is left ...
When memories assail
What is left
When the wife sets sail
The concept of legacy pops into your head when you turn 70 and figure you might have 10 more years. I never married so never had kids, although nowadays those two possibilities aren’t as solidly linked as when I was a kid. I’ve had some fine cats, but all they will say about me is I fed them, and kept the litter box clean. Not exactly what the future needs to know about me.
I did curate some good exhibits for the National Quilt Museum when I worked there. I don’t know if anyone will care: quilts don’t have the cachet of a Matisse or a Van Gogh which is to my mind a tragedy. I look at Cassett’s The Boating Party and am transported, it’s a transcendent moment, the composition is flawless, the scene alive. Yet no one slept under that canvas, no one hid their fears and tears under it as sometimes happens with a quilt. Nobody read Lake Woebegone Days wrapped in those canvases. Anonymous people, mostly women, made so many quilts that created cocoons of warmth and love for their true legacy, their families.
When you ponder the end of your life, you’re actually pondering anonymity.
Mr. Keillor, your books on my shelf are falling apart from repeated readings. I firmly believe they will have a solid following in perpetuity. We are a storytelling species, alway have been always will be.
I talk to my dead friends and relatives, too. I figure that as long as it's in my head, it's not insanity. As you point out, it's a sort of immortality - as long as I can still hear them and communicate with them, they're still here. Authors are like that too, their books can move their thoughts and voices into their readers's minds, where they can live on for another generation, potentially forever through the future generations if they're good enough. You're wrong about not being an "influencer," though; your words are running around in my brain and you are a very good influence. Thank you...
A beautiful and haunting piece of writing as the toaster warms and coffee is hotl. My question Garrison is do you dream of the characters in lake Wobegon as if they are real? And who would be riding off on a bicycle just as you awake? Happy Wednesday morning from Milwaukee.
I don't dream about them but sometimes, in writing about them, the imagination does go free and you come to surprising discoveries. I've known for a long time that Pastor Liz is gay and Dorothy who owns the Chatterbox is a Black woman. I never thought it necessary to say so but I knew it was true.
Sometimes when I write a fictional piece I am amazed how the characters can become friends in a way. But I am more amazed that these "friends" were created from just sitting sown to an empty spiral notebook.
Exquisite.
Why is it that by the time we are curious enough about our past to ask questions about it, there's nobody left who knows the answers? I had the chance to put my dear old dad on video and ask him question, but all I managed to do was get him to recite "'Erbert and the Electricity" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8DyaFYIj2w) and the alphabet backwards. You and your family will live on, however, in your writing. And while your family might not give a hoot, or will accuse you of getting it wrong or exaggerating, we surely do appreciate it!
I haven't given them enough credit. My father's sibings were passionate gardeners and devout students of Scripture and they expected their children to work up to their ability and not be slackers.
I floated through your words as if dreaming them. You made me think of my maternal grandparents. My San Francisco Muni maintenance supervisor Grandpa, who was orphaned and rode a stagecoach and then a train alone from San Francisco to a family ranch in Calgary, Canada, at nine. Ans my witty, never-sit-down Grandma who supported her younger siblings after her SF Fireman father died on duty in 1925.
When I knew them, they were quiet and humble. They kept me stable and secure in an otherwise volatile life.
I would love to hear their stories.
Unlike me, spouting mine to anyone who will listen via pages and posts, Grandma and Grandpa had to be pleaded with to "tell that story about the time..." around the dining table.
On Saturday mornings, when I was little, I would crawl into bed with my grandparents, and say, "Tell me about the olden days." I still wish I could hear their tales about the olden days.
I want to hear more about your olden days. Your parents, their humble ways. They're like meditation in a crazy world.
Dear Garrison,
In 1984 or so I landed in Minneapolis as a journalist and one of my very first tastes of Minnesota was to attend a PHC performance. After following you in all those years since, I know you are a person who knows his Bible.
So I began mulling your statement about resurrection in today’s post.
I would like to be arisen as a hunk of granite -- impervious forever to human stupidly.
Would it be Scripturally sound for me to pray for this?
Or would that make me dumb as a rock?
Patrick Houston, a born-Pennsylvanian who claims Minnesota as his home state
Be careful what you wish for - you might end up as somebody's kitchen countertop!
I KNEW there was a flaw in my thinking!
I strive to recognize the validity in all persons, and therefore I must assert, 'Countertops are people, too!'
Would my pronoun then be “ite”?
This is turning into a very strange rabbit hole! 😂
Of course, Alice in Wonderland. If so, I‘m giggling all the way down!
I believe that our eternal destination is not for us to express preferences ––– prayer is for this life and we pray primarily for others, asking no special favors for ourselves. Scripture is clear about what we're to do ––– Love our neighbors ––– and there's no way around that. GK
I’m a practicing Catholic. I do take it seriously. I was being cheeky. I hope I didn’t offend.
I read the question you considered asking your mother: “Do you realize you’re going to have 6 kids and not much money…?” It seems to me that you’re posing that question, from a business head, not a parent’s heart! As a parent, I’m pretty certain that there are cherished memories that are as much a part of you, as they are of your children!
I have a PHC tape in the cupboard that contains a couple of “Dad” stories. One is about roasting a turkey, and having it escape out of the pan and sliding across the floor. More to the point, though, is the tale in which your toddler daughter has escaped you while you were attempting to change a diaper. She’s dribbling all across the floor as you go chasing after her!
I’m sure your parents have equally personal stories about the six of you siblings! There was the one you tell,, for instance, about your family raising your own chickens. You, as the chief chicken-catcher, ran around with a wire hook, catching them so your parents could turn them into chicken dinner.
Those wonderful family tales were “grist for your humor mill!” And- it seems to me, that a little “poverty” can add spice to life. It makes the future less certain, and gives cause for tremendous sighs of relief when everything turns out all right! Many people would be embarrassed to say that they grew up in a "poor" family. And yet - the very honesty with which you related your childhood memories is one of the biggest gifts that you could give your audience "out there!" Very few of us grew up in a household like Jack Benny's, for instance. Supposedly, he kept his valuables in a cellar, guarded by a crocodile (or was it an alligator- I don't recall!).
I think that your frankness is one of the things that has endeared you the most to your followers! I'm not a great "radio historian," but I wouldn't be surprised if you have been among the first, if not "THE PIONEER" in "Reality Comedy! " Thanks so much for your fresh approach, and the humility that allows you to confess something like "losing control of the Thanksgiving turkey!"
I missed that one. Did the turkey end up being served without mention of its adventures across the kitchen floor?
Actually, I haven't listened to that tape for a while. I don't have a functioning tape player right now. As I recall, the reall issue was about all that greasy trail across the kitchen floor. I suppose it was cleaned up somehow. My memory is that the turkey was consumed in the ordinary way. Right???
That's what happens in real life at least. 😂
I read the question you considered asking your mother: “Do you realize you’re going to have 6 kids and not much money…?” It seems to me that you’re posing that question, from a business head, not a parent’s heart! As a parent, I’m pretty certain that there are cherished memories that are as much a part of you, as they are of your children!
I have a PHC tape in the cupboard that contains a couple of “Dad” stories. One is about roasting a turkey, and having it escape out of the pan and sliding across the floor. More to the point, though, is the tale in which your toddler daughter has escaped you while you were attempting to change a diaper. She’s dribbling all across the floor as you go chasing after her!
I’m sure your parents have equally personal stories about the six of you siblings! There was the one you tell,, for instance, about your family raising your own chickens. You, as the chief chicken-catcher, ran around with a wire hook, catching them so your parents could turn them into chicken dinner.
Those wonderful family tales were “grist for your humor mill!” And- it seems to me, that a little “poverty” can add spice to life. It makes the future less certain, and gives cause for tremendous sighs of relief when everything turns out all right! Many people would be embarrassed to say that they grew up in a "poor" family. And yet - the very honesty with which you related your childhood memories is one of the biggest gifts that you could give your audience "out there!" Very few of us grew up in a household like Jack Benny's, for instance. Supposedly, he kept his valuables in a cellar, guarded by a crocodile (or was it an alligator- I don't recall!).
I think that your frankness is one of the things that has endeared you the most to your followers! I'm not a great "radio historian," but I wouldn't be surprised if you have been among the first, if not "THE PIONEER" in "Reality Comedy! " Thanks so much for your fresh approach, and the humility that allows you to confess something like "losing control of the Thanksgiving turkey!"
With my luck I’d be resurrected as gas. Then again it would allow me to paraphrase Descartes: “I stink therefore I am.”
I read every word you write and hear your voice in my head when I read them I've seen you three times at three different venues and enjoyed everyone I even figured out how to put your stories on stage and now that their is CG it would be easier I tried to tell you once but your piano player wouldn't let me in the back door oh well I am also a happy bubbly person at the age of 76 and I too believe the world belongs to the young I don't have an audience you do and I've always been grateful to read what you write it must be awesome to be loved by so many with all the bubbly Happy Feelings in my heart thank you Garrison Keillor
I was kind of taken aback when you talked about middle age kids of parents who made them listemn to Praire Home Companion when they were young. It made me realized that we do have a 50 and 47 year old sons (and two spares 43 and 39) who we made listen almost every other weekend when we drove the 120 miles to visit both sets of grandparents. (They lived a few blocks apart.) I guess it may have been a little overkill as some weekends we would go grandparenting on Saturday evening and come home on Sunday night and we were able to listen to the Saturday live show and relisten to the replay the next evening. No wonder none of them heard "She has Betty Davis Eyes" enough times to memorize the lyrics.