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Comments from the week of 08.13.23

GK,

We loved APHC in the ’80s and we’re glad you’re celebrating 50 years ... congrats! However, we see you’re not scheduled to do a show where it all began in St. Paul. This is very disappointing for your hometown fans. What’s the deal?

As a side note: Did you know that Mickey’s Diner right down the street from the Fitzgerald Theater is permanently closed? Did you ever eat there?

Thanks,

Gerald and Marny

I ate at Mickey’s many times back when I did the early morning shift at KSJN and it made a memorable appearance in Robert Altman’s movie A Prairie Home Companion. As for doing the 50^thshow in St. Paul or Minneapolis, there simply is no interest. So far as we can tell, there’s not enough audience there to fill up a small auditorium. So we’ll do New York, Nashville, Austin, TX, and so forth, and savor old memories of the Fitzgerald and the State Fair. GK

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Hello again, Mr. K, from a hot California. I spent half the summer away, a month of it in England, and a chunk of that was a pilgrimage from Winchester to Canterbury with old friends. The weather was almost always perfect for walking, we rarely quarreled, pub food filled us with joy and protein, and we crept gently into dozens of churches the Normans built. God bless them, and their descendants who keep the churches open. I walked on my 58-year-old feet and tried not to complain when my shoes proved inadequate. We met few other pilgrims, but we did find nearly universal kindness and welcoming trees and quiet and fine dogs.

On some days, the Grumpy Teen™️ even sent me messages from Canada, they being a dual national on vacation with their dad. I missed them. That was a dull pain, unlike the pain in my feet. Who knows what my brain and spirit will make of all those steps and prayers and lit candles and early mornings? (I don’t like mornings. I wish I did.) I need to think about all this and write more.

See you in Sacramento soonish.

Stephanie

I think what you forgot to say is that you hope I’ll tell the Miller’s Tale from The Canterbury Tales when I do a show in Sacramento in late September. I’ll consider that. Meanwhile, blessings on you for your pilgrimage. GK

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Listening to you and That Time of Year has given me the courage to be cheerful. Grateful for you, Mr. Keillor!

Kay

I wrote that book but I’ve been too busy to sit down and read it. My source of cheerfulness is the fact that I’m 81 and very busy and now have the freedom to focus on the near term, such as today, tonight, and tomorrow morning. Anxiety is for the young. I was pretty miserable back in my 40s. I did a good show the night of my 81^st. Things are looking up. GK

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GK,

The photo of you in the dining car jiggled a fond memory. Many years ago I had arrived in Chicago’s Union Station via the Illinois Central on a Saturday evening and had a few hours before catching the Empire Builder to Spokane when I realized that I would miss PHC so dashed over to an electronics store and bought a small transistor radio assuming there would be plenty of NPR stations between Chicago and MSP. Later that evening I was seated in the dining car across from a young couple who were musicians. I mentioned that I had been able to listen to PHC along the way and they related the following story. You were scheduled for a show that included the Utah Symphony of which they were members. They were having a party at their house that evening and, thinking they had nothing to lose by asking, invited you and to their surprise you came. At some point the woman asked if you would say hello to her ailing father who greatly admired your show and, again, were surprised by your spending quite some time talking with him on the phone. A VERY fond memory.

Gary Marlow

It’s a small world, especially when you’re on a train. I’m not so impressed by my politeness to an ailing fan but I’m very impressed by your listening to PHC from a moving train. I never heard the likes of that. I hope you weren’t sitting in the Quiet Car, but probably the transistor radio came with earphones. Do you still have the radio? Are transistor radios still being made? Why were you going to Spokane? Were you traveling alone? Or were you traveling to Spokane along with a woman who was your fiancée and who despised PHC and was so irked by your listening to it rather than talking to her that she broke off the engagement and you never got to meet her family in Spokane where her father was a wealthy lumberman whose generosity would’ve permitted you to pursue your dream of becoming a novelist? I wish I knew. GK

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Hi, Garrison.

In 1984 or so you gave a lecture at Goshen College (Indiana) and stayed at my parent’s house, as putting you up in a hotel is distinctly un-Mennonite. I had to give up my bedroom for you. I was 11. I had a new kitten, Tinker, whom I thought was more interesting than you. Plus, your beige cable knit sweater was inside out when you came down for breakfast. The following Saturday we gathered around the radio to listen to PHC, hoping you may reference your visit. In passing you alluded to Mennonites. At the end of the show, however, you dedicated a song to “Laura and her cats.” It was a lovely song. I was sure I was the Laura to whom you sang, but my mother admonished me for being boastful. I’m now 51. I must know. Was it me? I now go by Lali but was Laura as a kid.

Lali Hess

I’m sure you were the Laura I sang the song for, I knew no other Laura at the time, but what I remember about Goshen was how stunningly beautiful the singing of Mennonites is. Lutherans do well with group singing but the sound of Mennonite voices in song is what I expect to find in the Hereafter. I wish they’d invite me back. I’d do it for free and pay for the hotel myself. GK

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Hello, Garrison.

The wording of your train trek doesn’t make sense. You rode from New York “along Lake Michigan through Ohio and Indiana.” Either you rode along a different lake, or you magically went from New York to Chicago, and then somehow back to Ohio and Indiana. Perhaps it was something different?

Regards,
Beth Trapp

I was asleep, Beth, and my knowledge of the Great Lakes has always been spotty. The engineer knew the way and I left it in his hands and got to Chicago where after a couple hours I boarded the Southwest Chief and passed through Illinois, some of Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, Colorado, New Mexico, and Arizona, and got off at Flagstaff. I’m pretty sure about that. GK

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Garrison,

I was delighted to read through your adventure of train travel from New York to Chicago but was caught by surprise to hear of Ohio being on Lake Michigan. I am not a writer, but I had my morning coffee, and my brain was starting to come alive — out came the following.

I once became so dreary

To think my friend so weary

His view of lakes

Reflects mistakes

Ohio’s not on Erie

Gary Strokosch

I value a reader named Gary

And I hesitate to be contrary

But realism’s not

The be-all, I’ve fought

For the right to be imaginary. GK

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Hi, Garrison.

Now there’s a thought — indeed, a book ban would probably increase readership. My first book (Life After Martin: A Memoir) was published last year, and because I don’t do social media, I had to rely on the old traditional approach of newspaper articles and local book signings. I don’t care about the money — I had a story to tell and remain proud of the results. But it’s as if your child is standing in the playground, being totally ignored by all the other kids. Hurts …

Best,

Pat McCormack

I looked up your book on Amazon, Pat, and ordered it. I’m not eager to make Jeff Bezos richer but the man developed the world’s easiest retail outlet — three clicks in 15 seconds and the book is on its way. I’ve never read a memoir by a flutist but I’ll give it a try and then I’ll pass it on to my flutist friend Gretchen. I did this because the image of the lonely child in the playground is so touching. (And so true to my childhood.) But I had several children who were mobbed on playgrounds so the loneliness of this recent one isn’t painful. A little. Not much. GK

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GK,

In your recent article, you wrote, “So much of the world feels alien to the 81-year-old, which relieves me of personal responsibility; I’m a citizen of a country that is disappearing. So be it. My responsibility is to pay attention.”

What feels alien to you? Why do you think our country is disappearing?

Steve Porter

I spoke with a high school English teacher a few days ago who said teaching had become very hard, that his students could not be given reading assignments, they simply had no time for reading what with sports and video and hanging out — the only way he could teach literature was to tell the storyline aloud in class. I know there still are kids who are fervent readers but the world has changed: I gorged myself on books when I was young because I was lonely, bored, but now kids go around with a phone and a laptop and everything is at their fingertips. I lay on the floor when aunts and uncles reminisced about their childhoods and about family history: that interest in oral history has vanished, I think. I hope I’m wrong. GK

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Garrison,

I’ve been married to my husband for close to 50 years, and we love each other very much. Our interests are similar, and we enjoy traveling together. We’re very fortunate.

As an older man, I’m wondering if you have an idea about why he is refusing to get hearing aids. He clearly needs them. I’m getting frustrated because I often must repeat myself. At first, I wondered if it was “selective listening,” but during a recent hearing test, they told him he’s a candidate for hearing aids. Is refusing to admit he needs them an older guy thing? Is it just vanity? I’m concerned because I’ve read about faster cognitive decline in older people who lose their hearing.

Caroline Presser

Tampa, Florida

You’re right to be worried, but aging is a touchy subject and caution is advised. The best way to bring it up is to say, “I’ve made an appointment for you at an audiologist’s next Tuesday and she has some hearing aids she thinks would be perfect for you.” Say it quietly. If he says, “Huh?” Repeat it more quietly. Then write it down on a slip of paper. GK

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Mr. K.,

Wow! I love your books about living with gratitude and seeing things with a cheerful eye. It has given me so much to think about. It’s easy to become a curmudgeon as our body fails and our life begins to shrink, but I was extremely surprised by your comments about the Grand Canyon. When you sing America the Beautiful, do you mean it? The song is about the visual beauty of the great variation in America’s terrain. Your comments came off us as less than grateful for the beauty of this earth. Can you explain your comments? 

Ruth C.

Petosky, Michigan

I think I was joking when I said it was nature’s biggest erosion project and just a big hole in the ground and I later repented of my irony and got up at 5 a.m. and stood at the rim and watched as the sun came up and illuminated the splendor below. It is a life-changing experience. I promised to be a better person. I mean it. GK

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GK,

Thank you — As someone who relishes cross-country train trips, your travelogue has been enjoyable, having ridden the “Chief” on Amtrak cross-country three to four times and always enjoyed the trip, the people, and the crews. About 20 years ago I had a meeting in Denver, so I took the Zephyr and booked a sleeper, arriving on time at 8 a.m. and walking up the street to attend the meeting. The dining car crew that night were all experienced, older workers, who dated themselves back pre-Amtrak, to Chicago, Burlington, and Quincy Railroad days (“The route of the Zephyrs”). It was a delight to witness their back and forth, first-rate service and obvious mutual enjoyment of each other from what had been a lifetime of service.

And especially thank you for your paean of praise for average workers; there’s still a great work ethic and pride in a job well done in this country. I’m at the keyboard as I draw my pension from the Laborers International Union of North America — I’ve done my days on the job site, but I wiggled out and edited our local central labor council newspaper for 40 years, spreading uplift and outrage to my fellow workers. Reprise this theme as Labor Day nears — three years ago it was all about “essential workers.” How soon we forget who makes it happen every day.

If you want to get deep down with that container train you passed, I’d recommend one of those big-screen IMAX movies that came out this spring, Train Time, which follows one of those trains cross-country, with a dose of nostalgia about those historic routes while showing diverse workers contributing their daily toil 24/7 around big, noisy machinery that can either thrill or kill you.

Best wishes — relax on the rails.

Mike Matejka

Thanks for the expansion on my column. I come from working people, as most of us do, and I think my ancestors would be admiring of the work ethic of the stream of refugees who’ve come to this country to escape unbearable conditions elsewhere, men who toil as day laborers, women who clean or care for the elderly, children who sell candy on the streets. There’s a lot of resentment of refugees, especially the undocumented ones, and I understand it, but I admire the gumption of people who will go to heroic lengths to save their kids from despair and death. GK

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Dear GK,

I loved your advice this morning to “Be Good at Something. Make Yourself Useful.” It reminded me of the poem To Be of Use that my friend Ellen shared with me decades ago.

To Be of Use by MARGE PIERCY

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry

and a person for work that is real.

I’ve bookmarked both your essay and this poem to read in the mornings when I’m feeling lazy (which is a lot of mornings). And I’ve deleted everything I’ve bookmarked on “self-care.” 

Thanks from Maria in DeKalb, Illinois

Thanks for the Marge Piercy, a fine poet of the blue-collar style. There should be more like her. I’m lazy, have been for years, but that poem is an inspiration and reminds me of my mother and my aunts who cleaned and canned and cooked and raised the kids and went to bed exhausted and got up and did it all over again. GK

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A barbarian Magyar confessed

that he gave his poor wife little rest;

and she never was madder

than the day that he had ’er

on a bridge linking Buda to Pest.

(An unpublished original limerick conceived and composed in response to a challenge; Dec. 16, 1985.)

Richard Friary

Unpublished no longer, sir. Bravo. GK

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Garrison,

I just don’t understand how someone with an evangelical background like yours can support Joe Biden. I’m so devastated about what this administration is doing to MY president, Donald J. Trump. They are despicable human beings — how anti-Christian can they be?

Evelyn Morrisey

You’re right: you don’t understand. I don’t understand exactly how your president can be considered Christian, and so far the Lord has not made this clear. Grabbing women by the crotch, shooting someone on Fifth Avenue, asking the Georgia secretary of state to cheat on the vote totals — how does this fit into the faith as we find it in the words of Our Lord? GK

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