Post to the Host

Comments from the Week of 05.21.23

Dear Garrison,

I just read your book Lake Wobegon Summer 1956 where Gary refers to his parents as Mother and Daddy. My seven sisters and I addressed our parents the same way. I wonder why we didn’t call her Momma and him Father or both of them Momma and Daddy or Mother and Father. It’s a puzzlement. It seems Mother is more respectful. How did you address your parents?

Bobbye Trotter
Bay Area, California

Mother and Dad. She was the authority in the family and he was a figurehead. He liked his daughters and nieces and his sisters and he tended to be distant around men except for his brother Lawrence. It’s just how it was, that’s all. GK

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Dear Mr. Keillor,

My question involves name changing. Specifically, monuments, buildings, street names and such. More specifically, Confederate ones. I currently find myself in an intentional community in the South, whose namesake has just recently been revealed to be a mid-19^th-century slaveholder. Historical records show grim details, including attempts to capture escaped slaves, which add to the sordidness, if that’s possible.

I am among those pressing for a name change. To my dismay, there may be some resistance. Initial arguments against include: changing names doesn’t change history; Washington and Jefferson were slaveholders, it was a different time and mindset then, and changing a name is an empty gesture, which achieves nothing significant, and may in fact be a negative, relieving some of feeling a need to redress past injustices.

The reasons in favor seem obvious to me. Foremost, I don’t want to be associated in any way with such a vile part of our history. Also, gestures, however small, do matter. Maybe not as much as direct action, but still ...

Your thoughts?

Kurt Silvershield

Athens, Georgia

To me, it seems like an exercise not worth getting riled up about. Back home in Minneapolis, young progressives got Lake Calhoun changed to Lake Bde Maka Ska on grounds that John Calhoun was a states’ rights senator and upheld the institution of slavery so they substituted a Lakota name. To me, growing up in Minneapolis, Lake Calhoun had nothing to do with John, it simply was a lake, it could’ve been named for Mabel Calhoun or Gertrude Calhoun or Ernie Calhoun, but the progressives won. So I find that Bde Make Ska is perfectly easy to say and no problem. Not worth fighting about. It does nothing for Native people, but that’s not my problem. I think statues are another matter. I was part of a group that put up a statue of F. Scott Fitzgerald in downtown St. Paul because I think he should be honored by his hometown. I saw no reason to tear down the statue of. Teddy Roosevelt in front of the Natural History Museum in New York, but I didn’t feel like fighting for it. Same with Columbus. I’m happy that there’s a statue of Duke Ellington in Central Park. I don’t favor scratching Audubon’s name because it’s so familiar and serves an important cause, ornithology. It’s a question of how you want to spend your time. I admire Ralph Waldo Emerson but if someone wanted to change it to Emmylou Harris, I would let them do it. Emerson wrote some great stuff and a lot of it is online and you can read it whenever you like. GK

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Dear Garrison,

I trust you are well. My father and I used to listen to Prairie Home together on the radio in New Jersey. We sat quietly and enjoyed your storytelling. Dad will not be here much longer, a few days at the most. He made it well past the four score and ten that you say we are allotted, so his death is not tragic, but it is sad and momentous. I will prepare his eulogy. I recall some years ago reading a column that you wrote containing the basic principles of composing a eulogy. I always knew that I would turn to that column at this time. Yet I cannot search up. If you know where to lay a hand on your old guidance, then I would be grateful to know. And if you need anything from South Philly, I’m your guy.

With best wishes,

Matt

As the saying goes, “Speak kindly of the dead for we shall join them very soon.” I’ve heard bombastic eulogies and vague eulogies given by people who didn’t know the deceased very well and the best ones I’ve heard were affectionate ones with funny stories. My brother died at 71 and it hit us hard and his son, his sister, and his brother-in-law gave brief eulogies, all of them funny. It was such a generous good deed. He had a good life, he was a good man, there was no need to put him on a stone pedestal, so we simply remembered him as a human being. GK

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Dear Garrison,

You mentioned appreciating viola jokes and conductor jokes. Here are two that may have never come your way.

Q. Why don’t violists have hemorrhoids?

A. All the a-holes are in the violin section.

Q. Why do conductors wear turtlenecks?

A. To hide their foreskins.

From your longtime admirer,

Jeffrey Solow

I like the first one and don’t get the second. Can somebody explain it to me? GK

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GK,

I enjoyed today’s host post and finally have a question for you (something springing from personal experience): What imaginative books did you enjoy as a child? I fell in love early on — and no idea where I found it — with a book by Kenneth Graham (British writer): The Wind in the Willows. Went back to it time and time again. Loved the character the Mole (shy and private and swamped by the eager pushy rabbit). Bells ring?

Jamie Spencer

St. Louis

I was loyal to Laura Ingalls Wilder, since her Little House books were set in the Midwest, and not so drawn to fantasy. I read a lot of history. I loved reading pioneer journals, wanting to find out something about my ancestors. I wish my grandparents had kept journals. My grandmother Dora, along with her twin sister Della, was the first female railroad telegrapher in America, or so I’ve heard. I earnestly wish I could read about her. GK

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Dear Garrison, 

Your comment about shoveling snow triggered this question. I know that the Dakotas isn’t your stompin’ ground, but you know the people. What did you think of Fargo, the movie by the Cohen Bros. (not the TV series)? It was pretty darn good, yah? 

Clay Blasdel

Buffalo, New York

Never saw it, sorry. I was awfully busy at the time. GK

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GK,

Yes, nature’s blessings, with the return of spring, help many of us to put aside the ailments of old age to feel momentarily a fleeting sense of exuberance in life. For sanity’s sake, my bride and I are leaving the angry and resentful in our state along with the pending inferno to take a road trip to Michigan, Pennsylvania, and New York before heading back through the Shenandoahs of Virginia and the mountains of Tennessee. We have family and friends in these parts of God’s creation who are not ideological nut jobs taking a stand against “wokeness” and ruinous green energy armed with assault weapons to defend their certitudes. While I continue to appreciate some of your more sanguine reflections, I often find myself wondering about those who, like me, respond to some of your posts from the host. Many of your readers seem to send you encomium and panegyric responses to your musings. Is this form of adoration good for your soul or ego? Just wondering if I should add more gratitude for your musings. 

Peter Periwinkle (peripatetic traveler)

Cut and Shoot, Texas 

Good of you to travel and see how other people live. I’m going to do shows in Austin and Houston in the near future, my first venture into Texas in many years. Mostly, though, I feel I’m losing my urge to travel, maybe due to all the traveling I did back in my showbiz years, and now my urge is to enjoy daily life at home in New York with my wife, with occasional visits to Connecticut and Minnesota to hang out with pals. I’ve not seen most of the world and I’m afraid it’s going to stay that way, GK

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Good morning, Garrison.

Over the years, in various stories, I’ve noticed that the mother character often addresses you as “Buddy.” My mother did the same thing. I was the firstborn, the eldest son of four kids. I never heard her call anyone else “Buddy.” It almost always happened when it was just the two of us, and I recall it happening occasionally even when I was old enough to have grown-up children of my own. Do you think this is Midwestern thing? (We lived in central Indiana.)

Be well,

Nichael Cramer

My mother called me “Gary,” never “Buddy,” and I don’t think it’s particularly Midwestern, it just shows that she was especially fond of you. Be happy she was. GK

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I was a Luther grad in 1984 at the time of your “infamous” 4-minute graduation speech. The temperature was 88 degrees and quickly heading to past 90 in a crowded space and the humidity was horrendous. I appreciated the brevity, but the locals still talk about it every year at commencement time.

Birgitta Meade

Luther College ’84

Decorah, Iowa

I don’t mind giving Lutherans something to talk about. I don’t recall the heat, but I do recall that I had prepared a longer speech and I cut it down at the last minute. No regrets here. GK

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Hi, Garrison.

I’ve been studying your storytelling techniques to share with clients during media training. We live in a society in which most people talk fast and a lot. You understand that talking slowly and quietly and using pauses draws people in and makes them listen. This came to mind as I listened to the story in which you describe the burning humiliation you felt as a little kid when your teacher slapped you in the face and made you stand in front of the class for 15 minutes — because you committed the sin of writing short stories about farts that made your classmates laugh. That quiet, slow delivery at the right time and those pauses made your words visceral.

Thank you for the characters, the stories, and the way you tell them.

Jeannine F. Addams

I talked slow because I was trying to think of what to say. It wasn’t a technique, it was a strategy. I’m a slow talker because I’m not that bright. But I’ve married into a family of people much smarter than I who talk at a furious rate and all at the same time while I sit like a stump and I can hear them thinking, “Why did she marry somebody from the slow lane?” Or I hang out with New Yorkers who go a mile a minute about what they read in the Times that morning, which I don’t read because the print is too small. Ordinary life is hard for me and that’s why I still do shows. I walk out and take the microphone and suddenly feel articulate. I’m a lucky man. GK

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I find your love for NYC to be fascinating. I, too, love NYC. I grew up in San Diego, but in 1955 at age eight, my mother flew me (alone) off to NYC to spend a summer at 47 W. 87th St, my grandmother’s five-story brownstone. My grandmother had raised a family of eight, and she had had enough of kids, so every day she gave my seven-year-old cousin Mike and myself subway tokens and quarters and told us to get lost. Her only admonition: be back for supper. It was the best year of my life! Subway to the Bronx, Battery Park, Coney Island, Queens, Brooklyn. Lunch at Horn & Hardart. Elevator rides to the top of the Empire State Building. Climbing the inside of the Statue of Liberty to the torch. I started every morning walking Mrs. Albrecht’s dachshund, Peter, to Central Park (a half block away), and then Cousin Mike and I hit the streets. Never a care. Never a worry. For an eight-year-old, it was Disneyland on steroids. Your walks through Central Park send chills up my spine. I know the feeling. I’ve been there. You are a lucky person to live in NYC!

Carl Arrechea

You’re describing a world that no longer exists. No grandma would send an eight-year-old out into the city, maybe twelve but not eight. You were a privileged kid. I was eleven when I went to New York with my dad and he kept a close watch on me. My dear Jenny is still as excited by the city as you were. GK

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My husband and I miss hearing your show A Prairie Home Companion every week!!!!! We love you! And I’m glad I found this site …

Will you ever return to doing a show week or monthly?!?!?

Patti B.

Patti, I worked too hard back in my 40s, 50s, 60s and half of my 70s, and I enjoyed it but I’ve decided to spend my 80s writing and enjoying life with my beautiful wife. Public radio isn’t interested in the things that interest me so we had an amicable divorce and I am still trying to understand the people I come from and the world our kids have inherited and trying to make comedy out of it. GK

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Good evening, Mr. Keillor.

I am wondering if you will ever come to Arizona to do a show. I would love to see you sometime. Take care, Sir, and hope to hear from you soon.

Blessings,
Don

I come from the northern prairie, Don, and never developed an affinity for the desert. Millions of my fellow northerners have but I haven’t and whenever I have gone out that way my old fear of rattlesnakes kicks in and I wind up staying in my motel room. So I think the answer is no. GK

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G.,

You wax brightly about NYC. However, since you did not grow up there, your commentary is a little off-kilter.

I was born in Manhattan. At 10 years old, my buddy Jack and I played hooky from school to see General MacArthur’s parade through Central Park. We brought our found fossils to the American Museum of Natural History, and they took two 10-year-olds to the magnificent office of the Curator of Invertebrate Paleontology, where he told us what they were. Today, I doubt that 10-year-olds are taking the subway by themselves, much less being invited to the sacred cloisters of the AMNH. In any case, enjoy the “City” for what it is — still busy, noisy, boisterous, flamboyant, truly unique and the place, that “if you can make it there, you can make it anywhere, New York, New York ...”

Dennis Winsten

Present Desert Dweller

I didn’t “make it” in New York, I made it in Minnesota where, if you can make it there, you can possibly make it in North Dakota or Wisconsin. For me, Manhattan is a place where I feel completely anonymous, which makes me feel young. I’m a big nobody and that suits me fine. I don’t go to the Natural History museum but I do walk around the Reservoir and sometimes take the C train downtown and stand in the front car looking ahead down the tracks and I feel ten again. GK

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Dear GK,

I chided you once for your constant reference to “getting old,” when you are only 80.  When you were one year old, I was on a destroyer in the North Atlantic escorting convoys to England. Yes, I’m nearing 102 and still enjoying your comedy, your writing and yes, even your singing on past PHC shows.

What we share in common is a love of New York and jazz. New York was one end of our convoys, during WW2 and I enjoyed many liberties there.  Got to see the Rockettes at Radio City, ice skating at Rockefeller Center at Christmas, big bands at the Paramount and exciting jazz at Nick’s in Greenwich Village. I heard many of the “greats” of that time,  Eddie Condon, Miff Mole, Tony Spargo, Muggsy Spanier, Pee Wee Russell, Sterling Bose, etc. I had many talks with Eddie Condon in a club across the street where the drinks were cheaper than at Nick’s.

Then there was the Statue of Liberty. On our return to New York, after witnessing the devastation in England caused by German bombing and the effects on the people, the statue of that Lady became a symbol of what we were fighting for and how fortunate our country was to not experience what other countries had to endure.

Thanks for sharing the News from Lake Wobegon and some wonderful music and comedy. It gives me a rest from all the insane stuff that is filling the news these days. Have seen a lot in the last 100 years, but nothing like this.

Ken Lyon

Olympia, Washington

Good to hear from an elder and thanks for your service on the destroyer escorting convoys. You don’t mention the dramas of U-boats and storms but I’m sure the service was eventful and it was good to read your letter and imagine sailing through the Narrows and into New York harbor after a couple weeks at sea. The lights, the lady with the lamp. You lived in exciting times, my friend. GK

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Dear Mr. K,

We’ve had a passing acquaintance for the past few decades, so I write to update you. Back in the days of Mr. Blue at SALON, I wrote to you two or three times, and you answered. The important letter told you about my sore heart and my fear I would never find a Good Man and have a child. You reassured me.

Well, a few years later, along came the man, and we got married. Shortly thereafter, we had a baby. The marriage didn’t last, but the Kid flourishes: a brilliant 17-year-old ... kind, loyal, and snarky, loving theater tech and languages and science. Sir, I got the joy of my life, and I am grateful.

There’s lots of other stuff, good and bad, but I’ll spare you. Thank you for lifting me up and giving me hope.

Stephanie

It's a long time since I wrote that MR. BLUE advice column and I’m happy to think I gave you a lift and that this kid is brightening your life. I was a good advice columnist because I’d made so many mistakes and my life was a series of sunken ships, which gave me a basis for empathy, maybe more so than if I were a professional therapist. Nobody asks my advice anymore and that’s good because the world has gotten so crazy and I hesitate to guide people beyond saying, “Follow your heart and maintain cheerfulness and treasure the time and do good work.” GK

A SONNET FOR MEMORIAL DAY (GK)

We're here to honor those who went to war

Who did not wish to die,

but did die grievously in 1861, 2009,

though they were peaceable as you or me.

Young and cheerful, knowing little of horror,

singers and athletes, and all in all well-bred.

good sergeants, turned them into warriors,

and at the end they were moving straight ahead.

As we look at these headstones row on row on row,

Let us see them as they were, laughing and joking

on that bright, irreverent morning long ago,

and once more, let our hearts be broken.

God have mercy on them for their unhappy gift.

May we live the good lives they would have lived.