Post to the Host

Comments from the week of 12.06.21

G —

Just as I think I must abandon you and your wonderful writing because of the latest thing you wrote that irritated me, your people give us your Christmas column from 2016 and I melt. Guess I’ll hang in. I sometimes ponder about having a conversation with you in person to see what you’re like. I’m a retired state prosecutor in your much-maligned state of Florida, and we probably would have an interesting talk. I had a brief email exchange with you a couple years ago (pre-post-to-the-host) when I took you to task for your un-Christian remarks re POTUS Trump. Our exchange was informal, brief, and friendly. I do enjoy reading PTTH now and your responses to the letters although sometimes you seem kind of mean. I know you do not mean to seem that way. It makes me feel sorry for the person who wrote because they only admire you in some way. Anyway, bye.

Anne M.

Thanks for this gracious note and I’d be very sorry to see you go but I’m sure there’s a great deal else you could spend your time reading and probably it’d be more enlightening. And you’re entitled to your views and I’m too old to think I could change them. That’s one reason I so seldom write about politics.

GK

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Sir,

I am writing to you to express my disgust that I cannot find any way to hear Leilani Clark’s version of “Nitey Night” from your Talent from Towns Under 2,000. This is obviously your fault, and I shall build a Bonfire of the Vanities to all folksy, homespun tales in our town square. Yours will, of course, be on the bottom row. We will build a pyramid to the sky, with you, O. Henry, Mr. Clemens, who marked the Twain, and followed by succeeding levels of, um, well, there must be someone. At least enough to provide coals for a Kuala pig roast, if not for a Bonfire of the Vanities.

Please, if you have any humanity in your decrepit soul, provide me with a link to the “Talent from Towns under 2,000,” in which she sings “Nitey Night,” as her dad accompanies her.

If you will not or cannot, surely you are history’s greatest monster, and I will not loan my copies of your books to others, for that would be giving other people hope, when so little exists.

Best, and all that BS,
Jay

Jay, this is one of the best abusive letters I’ve ever received and I appreciate it, especially “decrepit soul.” You hit the mark with that one. I shall notify our archivist that you need to hear “Nitey Night” and if it exists in our decrepit electronic files, we shall produce it.

GK

Ed. note: You can hear Leilani Clark’s performance of “Nitey Night” at https://www.prairiehome.org/shows/57679.html (begins at 38:46).

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Dear Garrison,

My question re your last column about the darkness of life is why you do not speak to your unvaccinated friends. Not all are Trump supporters, in fact most that I know have been liberal democrats or alternative health practitioners. Most have questions about safety and no long-term data. Most just want to live their lives free of segregation and discrimination because that is, in fact, the dark path we are going down. This whole nearly two years could have been handled in a much more ethical and moral way. Instead, we have chosen to demonize, pressure, coerce, and shame those not willing to take the jab. What kind of world do we want our children and grandchildren to take away from this experience? What happened to “be kind”? I feel shame, as an American, that we treat others like this. I don’t know one person, vaccinated or not, that would knowingly expose someone to the flu, colds, or COVID. Everyone has an ethical responsibility to care for others, but it doesn’t mean putting something in the body one objects to. Where will all this lead to? We cannot live in fear forever … or can we?

With respect, 

Lady V in SLO

I don’t have anything to say to the unvaccinated that they haven’t heard a hundred times. Doctors have said it, epidemiologists have said it, so what is the point of a humorist repeating it?

GK

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Dear Garrison,

I hope you and your family are well these days. During our years of living in Pennsylvania, we rarely missed one of your radio shows or The Writer’s Almanac. We once saw you in NYC in your show with Ed Koch, an unforgettable day (23-04-2011). Afterward, I tried to get a signature from you in one of my G.K. books, but it was not possible. What to do? There was a truck outside with a truck driver, I asked him as a “substitute.” And guess what! Russ Ringsak signed my book as “Prairie Home Truck Driver.” That made my day complete. Thank you for your work, we miss you so much. Be well and continue to write. You are the best.

Sigrid (Germany)

I’m sorry you were turned away but at least you had the honor of meeting Russ, a friendly guy, former architect who took up the guitar and drove truck for us and we celebrated his retirement by having him sing “Six Days On The Road” on the show from the Opry in Nashville. He was tickled.

GK

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Dear Garrison,

My friend Lissie Sorensen, who is of Danish descent, had something to say about your description of Danish Christmas traditions, which I shared with her: “I am not sure about this man’s Danish Christmas. It seems he did not experience some of the best parts — the juicy pork roast with new potatoes covered in tasty gravy (next to the traditional goose), for dessert the almond flavored creamy rice dish covered with cherries, and lovingly baked cookies (my family had some fantastic bakers!). Mulled wine? Maybe beer and schnapps. And the greeting is God Jul, so God is not left out at all, is He? Dancing around the tree is quite fun, and the real candles now are LED lights … okay, I know he is supposed to be funny. I’ll take Danish Christmas anytime.” I thought you might enjoy reading Lissie’s correction! God Jul! (as we Swedes say as well).

Stream

Your friend knows more about Danish Christmas, of course, and I yield to her. My memory is now thirty years old and somewhat decrepit.

GK

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Dear Garrison,

The Christmas season now being upon us, I went for a holiday walk yesterday. Imagine my delight at running into The Almighty on a seldom-used wooded path. We must have chatted for twenty minutes! I can’t remember how your name came up, but when it did, He looked off into the distance, so I pressed Him on it. He assured me that as a member of the Sanctified Brethren you have made The Great Cut. However, He seemed a bit miffed at your disdain for something He finds innocent and charming. Accordingly, although conceding that you are generally a good man, you can expect to spend the first one thousand years of Eternity confined to a small room and listening to an endless loop of “The Little Drummer Boy.” I just thought you would want to know.

Merry Christmas,

Ren Hood

Duluth, Georgia

Thanks for the information and now I plan to live another twenty years so that perhaps He will soften his judgment to four or five hundred years.

GK

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Will you please issue another volume of Good Poems. I very much enjoyed the first three and am ready for a fourth (and fifth).

Stan Wellman

I’d love to but I’ve been too busy with other things and I think that the poems are beautifully available online and for no cost.

GK

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GK,

If you love rhubarb as much as you claim, you’ll be thrilled with this recipe my wife, Joanna, and I have developed.

Joanna cuts the rhubarb stalks into inch-long pieces and places them in a steamer basket over about 2 litres of water and steams the rhubarb until it is soft. The steamed rhubarb becomes our stewed rhubarb and the liquid (rhubarb juice) collected in the bottom section of the steamer gets saved in a large, glass pouring bottle. Glass, because this juice is a lovely pink colour that makes your mouth water every time you open the fridge door and the light shines through it.

When I want a nice, tart, refreshing drink, I pour some (diet) ginger ale in a glass and add a splash of rhubarb juice and some ice. Then Joanna thinks that looks good, so I make another one for me.

Try it; you’ll like it!

John McEwen

I plan to take you up on this, John, as soon as I get home and get myself to a farmers market and find a rhubarb dealer.

GK

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GK,

After reading some of the recent posts that your readers send to you, this season of light, peace, and hope might be a good time for all of us to practice a little humility. Lord knows, there is more than enough self-righteousness being offered up today by our nation’s partisan political leaders, in many church pulpits and among the Tucker Carlsons and Rachel Maddows of cable news. When reading your posts and most of your responses to your readers, I often appreciate your modesty about your own sense of self-importance and about your peculiar perspectives on life. As a friend of mine noted recently, we should never mock anyone who still believes in Santa when there are so many of us in America who believe with absolute confidence everything we read on Facebook or hear from our favorite cable news personalities. I remember fondly your description of Dark Lutherans and Happy Lutherans in a chapter of Wobegon Boy. To be sure the self-righteous are always convinced that they are the true believers, the true patriots, and the moral savers of the world while it is difficult for the humble to be militant about mercy and kindness. Thanks for doing what you can to keep us on the straight and narrow pathway of humility.

Frank Assisi

Humble, Texas 

This is a fine sermon on humility and I shall take it to heart, though in my line of work, the amusement business, it is often useful to be bold and even aggressive.

GK

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Sir:

Just finished your memoir on Audible. It was a companion through many hours in my truck commuting between Philipsburg and Kalispell, Montana. The wistfulness of being done with the book is something I have only experienced on a couple of occasions, one being with an anthology of American Short Stories and the other being with WLT.

Your memoir has saved me a lot of trouble. Why are you slowing down? Work harder. I’ve got a lot of driving to do.

(Submission that actually won me first place in the first — and only — University of Chicago freshman class limerick contest. It came to mind after the female kazoo player story.)

A gifted young lass from Australia
Was born with musical genitalia
With the wink of an eye
She would lift her skirts high
And with songs from Down Under, regale ya

Bert Jones

Thanks for the limerick. It reminds me of what my friend Arnie Goldman’s sergeant said when Arnie married Pat from Australian: “Nothing makes the privates happier than a pat from down under.” I am going full steam, meanwhile, having finished a Lake Wobegon screenplay, a new novel, Boom Town, that comes out in March, and am out doing shows and having a big time. Don’t know that I’m due to go to Montana but am only waiting for an invitation. Good luck trucking.

GK

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Hello! Random question: Does Garrison ever use ham radio? My dad is a big ham, and on the off chance he could casually speak to his favorite person on his favorite media, his call handle is KD9KNB. It’s a long shot, I know. Thanks for a childhood of great memories — car rides home from church every Sunday as a family listening to Prairie Home Companion.

Whitney

Ham radio was too complicated for me and so I skipped it in favor of broadcasting. I went to work in public radio, which is a bunch of Americans trying to be British, and I did comedy. The Car Talk guys and I were pioneers back in the ’80s. Now I’m just a writer. It’s good enough.

GK

Dear GK,

I do appreciate your irony in response to over-the-top meandering lunacy. But I’m afraid it will be lost on those lunatics who, if they have their way, are bent on ensuring that our country will be consigned to the trash heap of failed democratic experiments. Besides, there’s a surfeit of other venues to find their meanderings without seeing them on yours.

Michael Finity

Tum Tum, Washington

Michael, I hesitate to censor people I disagree with. I happily edit long-winded people and admiring fans and outright obscenity but I have readers on both sides of the aisle and I feel honored by that.

GK

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Dear Mr. Keillor,

I am holding your children hostage. Not actually but my English teacher always told me to start with an engaging hook. Anyways I’ve been reading your columns every week for the last two months and I’ve grown quite fond of your writing method. You provided a refreshingly personal sense that I feel is missing in most modern columnists or any published sources of writing really.

My favorite part of your columns is your in-depth anecdotes from either your own life or the complex hypothetical situations that you create with storytelling, such as from your most recent post “How we raised the dough to go to Florida.” I found that whole story very funny. I especially liked the section about you telling the bank teller you were sticking him up just to see what it felt like, it actually made me L.O.L., which isn’t very common these days when reading columns. Another notable time you made me laugh when I was sitting alone in my room at 1 am was reading the “Our House is on Fire: Let’s Talk” column. Even though that was a much more serious topic than most of your writing, I appreciated the comedic relief in the comment “the effect of the apocalypse on the stock market would not be good.” That brings me to the next element of your writing that I appreciate and implore you to not change.

In a particularly polarizing time of political, social, and all other kinds of strife, all of which you address in your columns, it is very important to “keep your chin up,” and your writing exemplifies that. You discuss all kinds of tribulations and conflicts that would be quite easy to get depressed about, but the constant humorist twist you put on your writing helped me to realize that nothing is as serious as it seems as long as you look forward and keep a smile on your face. Anyways thanks for bringing this uncommon perspective to the modern world, and please never stop doing so.

Sincere Thanks,
Drew Bomar

Thank you, Drew, and I shall do my best. As I write this, I’m on tour in the Midwest. I did a show in Joliet, Illinois, the other day and I had a perfect humorous moment at the top of the show when I said, “You probably think I look down on you because when you think of Minnesota, you think of adhesives and the Mayo Clinic and Scott Fitzgerald and Charles A. Lindbergh and defibrillators and pacemakers and when we Minnesotans think of Illinois, we think of …” and there was beautiful anticipatory laughter, they knew what I was going to say and I said it … felons. This is a delicious moment for a humorist, when you finish a sentence they already thought of. I’m a lucky guy to get to do this. I was in the prison of public radio for forty years, a network devoted to pretentiousness, without an ounce of the genuine, and I am glad to be free of it. I’m having the time of my life. There is nobody in public radio I’d want to talk to for five minutes. The advent of podcasting has made NPR as irrelevant as wax cylinders.

GK