Post to the Host

Comments from the last couple weeks

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QUESTION OF THE WEEK

Dear GK, 

I am hesitant to agree with you that “I wish hitchhiking would make a comeback” but the statement certainly triggered nostalgia in me for a more trusting time. I grew up in the rolling hills of upstate New York. My friends and I as teenagers were allowed to “thumb” our way into town on Saturdays where we would wander the streets following girls who caught our eye. I know that sounds creepy now, but it was an innocent activity then as the girls encouraged our surveillance. We would then go to an afternoon movie and try to build up the courage to talk to the same girls. 

My most memorable hitchhiking experience was in the winter of 1964 when I was serving in the Air Force in Columbus, Mississippi. I longed to come home for Christmas and surprise my mother. As luck would have it, there was a C-47 scheduled to fly from my base to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, a few days before Christmas and there was room for me to catch a ride. That would get me within about 300 miles of my childhood home, and I figured I could hitchhike the rest of the way. Upon landing in Harrisburg, I stuck out my thumb, continuously wiping the falling snow off my uniform, and caught 17 different rides before arriving midmorning to ring our doorbell and have a tearful reunion with my folks. At one point on the journey, I got dropped off in a small dark town around 1a.m. with no traffic in sight and the snow falling heavily. I walked about three miles to a truck stop where I ate, warmed up, and a trucker offered to take me to within 15 miles of home.

It was the kindness of strangers who made that the best Christmas for me and my family. 

Pastor Chuck Schwartz

That sort of kindness is still around us, I do believe, despite our inclination to think darkly. I don’t blame anyone for that inclination — it’s simply a choice, and it has its consequences, and as I drift along in life, I enjoy more and more the casual exchanges with strangers. You wait in line and make small talk and a conversation ensues and to me, this is an indicator of the goodness of people. I’m an old man and people notice my hesitation around steps and inclines and look out for me to make sure I’m okay. But your story is a beautiful story. A man could make a novel out of that. GK

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GK,

I am in complete agreement with your crusade against the misuse and overuse of the word “impact” and its many offshoots. I sincerely wish you well with your campaign; don’t give up or in.

I fear there’s a word that is much more invasive and damaging to the English language than “impact” — that being the meaningless little filler word “like.” While mainly an affliction of the young, it has unfortunately spread to those who really should know better.

Its repeated use is exasperating. It is near impossible to take anyone seriously who is constantly inserting “like” into their conversations.

So to one and all let’s drop “like” as a filler as it is not needed nor wanted.

Leif

Plano, Texas

You’re a better man than I, Leif, to take on this hopeless cause. I don’t mind “like” as a verbal hiccup; it’s just a device to let the speaker indicate hesitation or uncertainty. I don’t even hear it when people do it. In written English, I take it as a joke, a parody. But I wish you well. GK

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Garrison, Are you for real on the marmalade?

Ron

My story about us Keillors being wealthy stockholders of James Keiller marmalade was fiction. I love to eat the marmalade. I have no idea how they grow oranges in Scotland. But have no financial interest in the company, much as I wish I did. GK

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GK,

Your analysis of the incredible Ms. Taylor Swift 
from a fan in her sixties who is really quite miffed
She now writes from a perspective of age, thirty-two
With a fan base of millions shows you haven’t a clue
Take a listen and learn, she’s got a genuine gift

I am a big fan of the column, ordered the book Serenity at 70, Gaiety at 80, and got a signed copy for my mother-in-law at age 96. 

Today, when I read the column, I wondered where Garrison is getting his info. “Word from people who know” is bad info. Those people just don’t know.

Garrison couldn’t be more wrong about Taylor Swift. 

Small suggestions: Maybe give a listen to the single Welcome to New York, that references finding awe in New York, written when she was 24. Maybe listen to the album Folklore, written in 2020. It won the Grammy for Best Americana album and critically was recognized as her most sophisticated. That album broke records for streams. She isn’t looking to become relevant. She is relevant. 

Shortly thereafter, she followed that up with another album, Evermore, with 111 million streams. 

Oh, and regarding try fiction: she actually fictionalized full stories in her albums. 

Lastly, I’d listen to one of her most beautiful songs, “Epiphany.” This song was written during the pandemic. She used both the stories she learned of her grandfather’s war experiences and the stories of the frontline workers to weave a lyrical ode to stoicism. 

Garrison got this one all wrong.

Still a fan, 

Nancy Smith

P.S. Maybe reach out to Taylor and stop listening to those “people who know.” Apologize and perhaps collaborate. We will all be better for it.

Nancy, I would rather you be right than I be right. My slight poke in passing at Ms. Swift was a lead-in to a humorous (I thought) column. It wasn’t a critical analysis of her career about which, as you can guess, I know next to nothing. Good for you to find goodness and beauty in her work and your appreciation is surely shared my millions of others. Thanks for writing. GK

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GK,

Re: Butch Thompson RIP

Such a loss to jazz piano! A finer piano keyboard you could not find. Loved listening to his many renditions in your weekly shows for many years. I think he could have played Rachs #2 if he wanted to.

Damn that Alzheimer’s: too many done too soon even if they are here.

So good, Garrison, to hear your fine comment on Butch in today’s Strib. RIP till we all get together again around the Thompson piano. Beers are on me.

Tom King

He had a big career and PHC was only a small part of it. He made many visits to New Orleans and played with the greats and lived the jazz life, though avoiding alcohol and womanizing. He played Scott Joplin around the world even while maintaining his Minnesota life where he was surrounded by friends, musicians with whom he enjoyed a constant stream of music. He did well enough at his trade so he could afford a fine Steinway and he surely did love that piano. He took some music theory and history courses at the U but he stayed in the traditional jazz lane and what a good life he had. He never had ambitions to compose, not that I was aware of. He maintained a positive outlook. I have no idea what his politics might have been. He did what he loved and never got tired of it. I wish the same for you and me and all the others. GK

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Mr. Keillor,

How can there be misery in limericks?
They’re nothing like COVID or deer ticks.
With humor & laughter
In rhyme ever after,
They keep us from sad solemn antics.

(Written in an airport after being bumped twice, but I trust the good cheer comes through.)

Pax,

Jeff Gill

“Limericks” is impossible to rhyme, though “deer ticks” works okay, but not “antics.” Keep trying. GK

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Dear Garrison Keillor,

I wonder, do you know of your ancestor’s contribution to Ireland?

https://www.mayobooks.ie/Keiller-Knowles-Collection-National-Museum-Ireland-9781869857974

Warmest best wishes,

Brian Lynch

I’ve been in denial of any Irish heritage so that I can skip St. Patrick’s Day and not have to sing those songs. I’m going to continue to ignore it. GK

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Good morning, GK.

Glad to enlighten you on “gunkholing” on the Chesapeake Bay. There’s quite a bit of “gunk” (mud, muck, and such) on the anchor when you get underway in the morning, after a night’s rest in a beautiful cove. And enjoying PHC on the local Public Broadcasting Service before settling in for the night before. 

I did want to share a travel piece I received from my friend in Great Britain. He sometimes starts my week off with just this sort of thing! A wonderful play on our mother tongue. We are as Shaw said: “England and America … two countries separated by a common language.”

I have been in many places, but I’ve never been in Kahoots. Apparently, you can’t go alone. You have to be in Kahoots with someone.

I’ve also never been in Cognito. I hear no one recognizes you there.

I have, however, been in Sane. They don’t have an airport; you have to be driven there. I have made several trips there thanks to my children, friends, family, work maybe, and our Former president.

I would like to go to Conclusions, but you have to jump, and I’m not too much on physical activity anymore.

I have also been in Doubt. That is a sad place to go, and I try not to visit there too often.

I have been in Flexible, but only when it was very important to stand firm.

Sometimes I’m in Capable, and I go there more often as I’m getting older.

I may have been in Continent, but I don’t remember what country I was in. It’s an age thing. They tell me it is very wet and damp there.

One of my favorite places to be is in Suspense! It really gets the adrenaline flowing and pumps up the old heart! At my age I need all the stimuli I can get!

ATB (All the Best)

Proud Grandfather, USAF (Ret.) né Grasshopper

Brilliant. My hat is off to you. I am in Awe. GK

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Dear Mr. Keillor,

(I’m not trying to make you feel elderly, but I was brought up in Northern Wisconsin, and only to call folks older than myself Mr. or Ms. unless they say, “For Pete’s sake, call me Bob.”) As you prepare for your medical thing, I wish you time to read happy letters.

I have loved your work for 35-ish years. I was an aspiring actress/singer and was helping out a gal named Celia who was working as a costumer for the Milwaukee Repertory Theatre. It was Saturday evening, and two things impressed me: a rack of costumes labeled “Costumes of the Rich and Famous,” which held costumes with name tags from the many people (Glenn Close, Tom Hulce) who spent a season at the Rep and went on to bigger things; and PHC playing on the radio.

Over the years, that show and then your writing got me through bad marriages, a wonderful child, giving up my dream of performing on your show when health issues sidelined my career, many downs and many ups. You and David Sedaris are the two authors who can make me laugh until I cry, no matter what. Thank God.

And the last three years have been doozies. My husband and I lost his dad, my mother, and the friend we called our Jewish mother within 18 months. But you have helped. I keep a clip of Marvin and Mavis Smiley’s “Down Home Diva” on my computer, and read your books when I want to lose myself in another world.

So I am writing to thank you, to tell you I pray for your health (yes, I am Catholic, went to St. Olaf’s school, how’s that for Up Nort’?) and to send you the best limerick I ever heard. I can’t credit the person who wrote it — I heard it at a writers’ seminar 25-plus years ago — but hopefully they’ll speak up if they’re still alive and if not, we tried. And yes, I am a writer now.

A Jew that we knew from the East
 Fell in love with a Jesuit priest.
 Her mother said, “Oy,
 Can’t you find a nice boy
 Or try to convert him, at least?”

Be well, live long, and prosper.

Respectfully and Very Truly Yours,
Brenda W. Quinn

Brenda, I’m sorry you didn’t get the chance to perform on the show and I’m sorry about all those losses you’ve endured, but David Sedaris is a great choice and that limerick is indeed a beauty with the interior rhyme in the first line.

There was a good Catholic named Quinn
Who forgave me my life of sin,
The trouble I've made,
And got down and prayed,
Seeing the trouble I'm in.

GK

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Dear Mr. Keillor,

We may be like two ships passing in the night.

I almost got to see you in 2014 at the Fitzgerald. I was exactly four weeks early. I saw a flyer for your show I thought February, however I was mistaken the show was same date in March of that year.

So now a few years later, I heard about your upcoming visit soon to Rochester in an email. I’m also looking forward at the same time to a trip to the famed hospital. Maybe we’ll see each other walking in the hallways. I can see in my mind’s eye two old men with intravenous carts walking together without modesty kilts. Do they have a photo booth for such occasions? I asked my doctor for some good news. He replied, “You are in all other ways a healthy man. You are going to have heart surgery at the Mayo Freaking Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota.”

Best wishes.
Fred, La Crosse, Wisconsin

I think they keep us heart cases sequestered, Fred, so we don’t get into conversation and start scaring each other. Mayo believed in optimism and hope. And so I have a schedule of shows coming up in the fall, including a Dec. 15 Christmas show in St. Louis at the fabulous Fox. How’s that for optimism? GK

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Dear Mr. Keillor,

Your 8/8 column had laments of nostalgia for bygone eras and norms and I’m wondering how you feel about salutations. I was taught that strangers or casual acquaintances and elders should be addressed by their title and/or last name; not by their first name, except for close family. This was considered an ordinary sign of respect, and moving to a first-name basis an indication of an intimate relationship.

Do you find it grating how this convention has slipped? Did the loss of these small manners and social disciplines help pave the way to our present social dysfunction? 

Best Regards,

Cory

No, I’m not disturbed by that. I’m more disturbed by my struggle to remember names, which turns into a diligent mental maneuver, putting a last name onto a first, or vice versa, sometimes with longtime acquaintances. The past week, I’ve been at Mayo Clinic, where nurses and technicians go by first names, doctors by last. A formal system that is nonetheless very friendly. People who’ve listened to PHC for years call me by my first name, of course. And then there are a few famous names I wish would disappear, but that’s another problem. GK

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Dear Garrison,

In your reminiscence of August 8, 2022, you lament the passing of the “good time” — the good America — that you grew up in …

“It was a good time, my time. Back in the country I grew up in, namely this one, men didn’t go into schools and shoot little kids, we never imagined such a thing, and what’s the reason? Fewer psychiatric medications? Fewer therapists? No. If drugstores sold licorice-flavored cyanide in drinking glasses, we’d see more of that. I plan to expire before the Supremes decide the Second Amendment guarantees the right to carry knapsacks of dynamite aboard airliners. Why should we give up our rights on the Jetway?”

Perhaps what you really miss is a time when it was easier to overlook the dark corners of our national experience — to sweep them under the rug, to hide them behind a curtain, or just ignore them all together. How else to explain — even with your broad range or experience, education, and reading — your seeming ignorance of the worst school killing in American history in Bath, Michigan — in 1927!

The fact that our elders were able to preserve our innocence for a greater length of time does not mean the times themselves were any less evil. The fact that we were (or are!) ignorant of the evil being done in our world does not preclude its presence all around us.

Perhaps, instead of just lamenting the good times past, we should also use our words to help bring about the good times future.

Grace and peace,

Peter B. Hoffman

I never read about the 1927 school killing in Bath, Michigan, in 1927, but it wasn’t due to my elders trying to preserve innocence — it was due to the uniqueness, singularity, of such a thing, whereas nowadays mass killings seem to have become frequent, almost regular. As for “dark corners of our national experience,” we were curious to know more — the witch burnings of Salem, the Civil War, the horrors inflicted on native Americans, the lynchings in the South, the repression of women, the rampant prejudices against immigrants — and I still am. When I worry about a loss of innocence, I worry about our children and grandkids and I find many young parents worried about this too. Young parents who’ve departed the metro areas for rural places where kids aren’t attached to cellphones and computer screens. Up in Connecticut, I ran across an old summer camp for boys and girls at which cellphones are Forbidden on pain of dismissal, where there’s none of the p.c. lingo you find elsewhere — the camp teaches “friendship, cooperation, curiosity, kindness” — and I’m sure such places still exist. When I was 11, I got on my bike and of my own volition biked ten miles into downtown Minneapolis and back, and I still remember what I saw on that trip. It remains in my mind. Back then, Minneapolis was a city where a kid could do that. I miss it. I hold my fellow Democrats responsible for losing the city I grew up in. GK

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GK,

I saw an article on npr.org that stated that one in four young adults lives with a parent, grandparent, or older sibling. Is it economics, education, nurturing or parental fear of our children failing that is driving this communal approach to facing life? The author of the article seemed to think that all were factors.

While I think that it is extremely important to do everything we can do to help our children be successful, we must also prepare them for the hard realities of competing for positions that will sustain them after we are gone. If we think we are always going to be there for them, we’re lying to them. It is up to us as parents to challenge them to look for jobs that fulfill them, that they are excited about doing and that will create a work environment that will sustain them through a retirement as we have done. They need to understand that we can help them but that they are the ones who are responsible for achieving their goals. We can help but they are the only ones who can make this happen. This is their future and must be their investment.

Thoughts?

Mike Fox

All of that is true enough, but my generation had clear economic advantages over our grandkids’. I supported myself and paid college tuition by working at dishwashing and parking cars and summer camp counseling, and when I married, she and I moved into a $150/month apartment. I was earning about $12,000 annual. It was enough. GK

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Dear Garrison,

My husband celebrates his 60th today, a day before your 80th. This seems appropriate somehow. My parents are in their 80s and often gaseous and we are heading in that direction, but we are old enough to find that nearly as funny as we did when we were small and farting was hysterical. He is an Episcopal priest who sometimes bends Buddhist, so would enjoy a conversation with you about faith and suffering. I grew up Baptist, avoiding sin and sinners like a plague, but now am daily aware of the darkness in my own soul, so try to embrace everyone and love my neighbor as Jesus told us to do. More often than not, something good rubs off and I am changed.

We look forward to seeing you in Peekskill and wish you a happy birthday!

Peace and good health,

Sharon Lunden

Sharon, I’m looking forward to that Peekskill show because it’s one of my first outings after heart surgery, a solo performance, and my intent is to create hilarity and not to share recent experiences. Farting will certainly be in the routine and maybe some reminiscence of fundamentalist youth but mostly it’s about the pleasures of aging. Eighty is an age at which I feel fairly certain that I’m no longer capable of doing the dumb things I’ve done in my life. GK

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I am a single woman, newly 60, and I work in a place that is 78 percent male! It was one of the reasons I took the job. Most of these men are exceptionally well educated. Unfortunately, they are almost all engineers and wear shorts in the summer at the office and do elaborate computations and most are shy and easily startled. I came upon one almost hidden in an office filled with papers. It was like sighting a silverback gorilla. He was friendly. How can I meet the man of my dreams when I cannot add and would never wear shorts unless aliens threatened my family? 

I know somewhere in the depths of the office is the engineer for me. I would like a mechanical engineer as software engineers can’t even pound a nail in a wall — talk about useless — and electrical engineers blow things up with some sort of wave we can’t even see. I am already afraid of most of my own home appliances and don’t need this sort of stress. 

Please help. 

Your friend, 

Ruth Morss 

Ruth, I am no help. I met my true love when I was 50. Her sister gave me her phone number and said I should call her and so I did. So it’s sort of an arranged marriage. We’re quite different — she’s the capable one, I am the one trying to figure out how to open the washer door — but I adore her and make her laugh and we have good conversations. One of these engineers must have a sister who’ll connect the two of you. GK

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Dear Garrison,

I guess I’m “taking issue” with you. The man my wife and I watched (livestream) in the Ryman show was gifted, funny, considerate, etc. Had I been watching that show with no prior knowledge of the man, the last thing I would have thought of him would have been OLD. Yes, I know it was tiring and that we can’t do everything we once did, or at the same level, but stop thinking of yourself as old. 

Now you are being replumbed with a porcine valve job. My expectation is that it will be successful and that you will have a newfound energy that you have forgotten you ever had. I am happy to be related to a family with folks who live to be 100, 105, etc., so 80 isn’t old. Neither are you. 

Thank You,

Will Jumper

Thanks for the boost. My wife tells me the same, that I should give the meditations on aging a rest, that people are tired of hearing about it. I shall try. GK

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Dear Garrison, 

You accept turning 80 with good grace, but at 85 I’m finding life to be harder and lonelier than it used to be when I still had a husband to hug in the night. Now, people around me keep dying. But my grandchildren are unbowed by taxes and death. They keep on texting and posing for selfies as if the world will never end. They don’t need paper maps. They don’t bother with cash. For the answers to questions, they have Siri or Alexa. They live in a wonder world of technology and are teaching me new tricks every day. I wear a watch that will call for help if I fall down. I locate my family on my phone, and … who knew it is possible to scan a document with an iPhone? Who knew it was possible to scan at all? At the age of 85, I am glad there are still things to learn, and young people willing to teach me. Soon I will turn in for another lonely night, but not till I check my messages. 

Elizabeth

Brava. Yes, there’s great new stuff. I haven’t looked in my Roget’s Thesaurus for years, I just google for synonyms. No more need for reference books. I do still love my enormous atlas however and opening a page to see a whole sweep of the West or all of the British Isles. And I still believe in the handwritten note. GK

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Hi, Garrison.

After reading your column about forgiveness, I have to say it’s time for me to get over your admiration for the antisemitic AOC. That is certainly not the quality you admire.

Wishing you an easy recovery and looking forward to your next column.

Ann

As I recall, my admiration of her had to do with her enterprise as a bartender in taking on an entrenched Democrat who no longer represented his constituents very well. I didn’t endorse her, simply admired her style. But thanks for forgiving me. GK

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GK,

You snubbed me on the boat in 2013: the Mediterranean cruise. My sister Candy was offended, thinking you a snob, but by the end of the tour, she felt more kindly toward you. Accosting you with my outstretched hand as you stepped off an elevator and we three were the only ones around, just minutes after the sing-along as we disembarked, I knew immediately that I was the transgressor, giving in to celebrity awe even after promising myself I would not. I impeded you when you were working hard while we vacationed. You walking straight by us muttering “I’m not sure where I am here,” made sense given your schedule. And at coffee and Danish on the upper deck a few days later, your friendly conversation and photo pose with Candy and me compensated handsomely. 

Gosh, that tour was fabulous, a highlight of my life. We greatly enjoyed our dinner partners, an ancient Norwegian sea captain and his sister, who gossiped about folks she knew from other PHC cruises. The grand tourist sites and adventures were splendid, but even more special to me were the events on the ship: shows, storytelling, lectures. ’Twas great fun meeting cast members’ families in the hot tub or omelet line, especially Heather Masse’s little child and husband in several encounters till we remembered each other’s names and he introduced me to Heather, “This is the lady I was telling you about …” Wow. I’m pretty sure I could be married now to a Minnesota man on the cruise whose sister was friends with your sister (he told me several times). Or traveled the world more with Father Jake, another cruiser, who guided us around Venice on the last day. 

But I played my cards differently and life’s been awfully good, maybe because I’ve kept up my ketchup intake and kept up with you and the treasures you continue to offer that enrichen life each day, beginning with The Writer’s Almanac as I exercise. Thanks for keeping those archives available to us. I don’t know how you do it all. Fueled by happy satisfaction at 80, you say, and I believe you. Best of wishes with surgery and feeling even better after recovery.

Cristy Fossum

Comer, Georgia

I am horrified that you felt snubbed. I’m sure I gave that impression to a great many people. I was so busy and I went crashing around trying to fulfill my obligations and didn’t observe the niceties of shipboard socializing. I met Bruce Springsteen once and he is a genuine celebrity and he was as nice as could be. Robin Williams was a little brusque, but so be it. Senator Alan Simpson of Wyoming was my favorite celeb, I think. He was warm and friendly and I’ll always remember visiting him. GK

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Garrison,

With regard to your comments on forgiveness in today’s column, it strikes me that you are on the path to discovery, along with a little assistance from Fred Luskin. Like you, I struggled with forgiveness toward my own Judas. Not to be trite, but I carry these three aphorisms in my heart:

Better to be occasionally cheated, than perpetually suspicious. After you have consumed the feast of revenge, you realize that the carcass on the platter is you. An act of mercy closes the book on a misdeed; an act of revenge writes a new chapter.

Before your medical procedure, give yourself the great blessing of letting go of the hurt and resentment of having been betrayed. What they did is their problem, not your fault.

Peace and Godspeed,

Coleman Hood

Bishop, Georgia

Thanks for the three aphorisms. I feel very calm coming to Mayo, a clinic I’ve visited often in the past twenty years. It’s quite astonishing for a writer to put himself in the hands of science, a whole other tribe from mine, but there is so much human goodness here. I carry a notepad with me and I write limericks for the people who take care of me and then trot off to the next appointment. A simple orderly life. GK

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Dear Garrison,

A while back, my wife and I were having a disagreement over the pronunciation of the word “calliope,” and when we went to the dictionary to look it up, I discovered the word “callipygian” beneath it. I felt a word so beautiful deserved its own poem, so I wrote one. Since I know you appreciate limericks, I thought I’d send it along to you. Enjoy!

There once was a lusty Bemidgian
Whose buttocks were quite Callipygian
When she started gyrating
Guys began salivating, 
And their thoughts … well, they weren’t on Religion!

Matt Berven, Minneapolis

A new word to me, and thanks, and an excellent limerick to go with it. Bravo. GK