It seems to me that your responses to most of the people who make comments to your Post to the Host pieces are contrarian. If someone remarks on what you've written about, say, a night of lost sleep due to ruminating about regrets and such, you tell that person the piece was about the morning after that night and attending church. If someone offers a kind reply with a Wendell Berry poem (that they say YOU made them aware of) and they offer it to you and other readers as a kind of balm for anxiety and worry, you tell them you hate the poem and that its ideas are lies. If someone recalls with great appreciation and fondness a joke or a song or a moment with you or your PHC program, you often say you don't remember it or you dismiss it in other ways. You seem to be wanting people to leave you alone, to not try to understand your material or pretend you and they have anything in common - except when it comes to buying merchandise or tickets.
When our 'child' decided to marry a man who is a verifiable genius, we learned that he did not like you or your radio program; we wondered if we could ever become fond of someone with such ideas. As it has turned out though, we have come to think his opinion may be correct. That all or almost all of your fans seem to adore you and take comfort and humor from everything you write or say might cause you to think twice before brushing them off like so many annoyances.
Being raised in a particular religion or in a certain area of the country or being old or whatever other characteristics lead to cliches and stereotypes no longer seems to be that funny anymore. Reckon I've gotten old, too, or maybe younger in some ways.
Honestly, methinks you doth protest too much because you really don't seem cheerful at all. I do love the music you brought to all of us radio-lovers though, over the many years of PHC. I wrote to you some months ago to suggest that, if you don't already, that you include the singing of rounds with your audiences. Rounds sung with a large group, a capella, can be beautiful and also funny if people lose their "line." I sent some suggestions for songs but my note didn't appear in your Post to the Host and there was no response. I suggest it again.
I wish you well. It makes me a little bit sad to apparently have fallen somewhat out of love with your work because it brought our family such joy and delight for so long. Seems like grieving a little bit.
I'm so sorry. I honestly don't care for the Wendell Berry poem but of course I didn't need to say so. But I actually am cheerful and I guess last week was a bad week. I will do better.
Well, we're all just trying to do better, I guess. I'm glad to know that you actually are cheerful and I will try to do better about being more cheerful in similar spirit to what you have written about as your practice, that it's a choice. The quote usually attributed to Ram Dass that I like is, "We are all just walking each other home." It seems to me that all of us who have loved what your work has been in our lives have just been reaching out to you (under the notion that you have reached out to them/to us) to say "howdy.... and thanks...." with that feeling that we are all just walking each other home. It's kind of a nice feeling and can be helpful when a bad week or a bad night comes along, as they do.
I appreciate your comment and the kind-hearted spirit of it. Let's all do better. Start with singing a round, maybe: Make new friends, but keep the old; some are silver and the other gold.
I just realized what so attracts me to your musings. They are not one dimensional. You are cheerful and open hearted and then just out and say that you hate the Berry poem. That was refreshing. You manage to be sort of a youthful curmudgeon. In my humble opinion, Berry wasn't talking about the wolf lying down with the lamb, he just meant “Live while you live, then die and be done with.”
The Berry poem: Most wildlife do not live in peace, free of anxiety. Most live in fear of abruptly losing their lives, or losing their young. Some live looking for other wildlife to eat. It's a jungle out there--appearing beautiful because most wildlife are hiding from us when we're out in their territory.
Well, Garrison, it worked. Your dismissal of Wendell Berry’s poem “The Peace of Wild Things” fueled my righteous indignation and forced me out of a funk of disorientation, dismay and despair. After finishing your column, my dog and I bundled up and headed outside on his morning potty walk. At the top of the hill, I noticed February’s full moon lingering on the western horizon amidst pastel clouds just before sunrise. Forgetting my myopic preoccupations, we scrambled a shortcut downhill through the woods and past the sewage treatment plant and slid on ice-glazed rocks along the lake’s shoreline so we could find a panoramic view. No wood drakes to lie among, but the crisp fresh air and the scenic array awakened my senses with a renewed orientation of serenity. Some find their solace in the distractions of sports or the mindlessness of social media but for me (and my dog), we experience moments of contentment most often when we are outdoors and distanced from humans and immersed in “The Peace of Wild Things.” Granted, there are conflicts and culture wars among Nature’s critters too, but there is also a Greater Harmony that surrounds and sustains, (which humans seem to be hell-bent on destroying) that greets us from beyond ourselves and gifts us with moments of peace.
When I do shows, I always start out by singing with the audience, "America" and maybe the "Battle Hymn" and other songs and the loveliness f impromptu a capella audience singing moves me, just as your walk moved you.
In all my careers, as an engineer, a lawyer, and last as a truck driver, I enjoyed driving the most. Four days a week going back and forth from the SF Bay Area to Reno traveling 7000 feet over Donner Summit. But what made this monotonous journey palatable was listening to PHC segments that I bought from Audio.Com. A performance would get me over my trips much quicker than without them. The good music, laughter, and many great stories I listened to are sorely missed. Now I am retired and living the good life in Isleton, in the heart of the Sacramento Delta. Then one day, it occurred to me. The reason you have probably never been here is no one had ever invited you for tea and a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie. You must have heard of our town. Pat Morita was born here. In fact, Locke, which is a few hamlets up the river from us, is still a quaint Asian-inspired built town. And pontoon boats! We have oodles of them if you want to do a nostalgic river run. Either way, this is an open invitation for lunch at The Point. I'll buy. See you soon.
At the risk of sounding grumpy (on what is really quite a beautiful, crystal-blue day here in southern Vermont) I’m afraid I’m going to have wonder about this often-expressed view that if one makes a conscious, deliberate choice to be cheerful, then one must almost necessarily be “in denial”.
Yes, there are certainly horrible things in the world; and surely no sane person would deny that. But what I guess I mean is that if someone “experience[s] regret, anxiety, and dread” --as certainly everyone does, very likely a huge portion of the time-- then why it seems that it should be seen as almost a moral failing if one doesn’t, consequently, also feel an obligation to make the day worse for everyone around us.
Actually, Nichael, what you said about "being in denial" isn't necessarily so. I used to be a grump on occasion, until I found out about serotonin - the "feel good natural source! Just google "Sources of Serotonin in food" and you'll find several different health databases that can get you on the Gladness/happy track! I accidentally ran across it in a health magazine in the last millennium - and have been mostly able to "keep on the Sunny Side!" ever since! Good luck with your new "Be Nice!" diet!
Experiencing regret, anxiety, and dread a huge portion of the time -- yikes. To anyone feeling an insufficiency of happiness, and who also hold happiness as a goal, I say that even if the arrival of your happiness is off schedule, when it does show up, it will have been worth the wait.
I grimaced at your dismissal of Wendell Berry’s poem, The Peace of Wild Things. Dishonest? Surely you don’t think he actually gets out of bed in the middle of the night and goes outside to lie on the ground. He’s using his memories, imagination and craft to invite his readers to make peace with anxiety. Berry’s poem is no more “dishonest” than your stories about Lake Woebegone, and just as wonderful.
Also, while I too am a fan of cheerfulness and try to practice it daily, I also try to allow my anxiety when it arises. It seems to me that life is much more both/and than it is either/or.
Your reply to Chris C.'s diatribe was beautiful ( Pun intended ). He be havin' a problem with his attitude. Your Evangelical audience should not lose hope for him. He is an agnostic, not an atheist. He seems to think there may be a way to heaven, and that God MAY exist. He thinks Christianity can be improved. He (She?) believes in Lent. Father Emil would love to chat with him/her.
I too am a recovering Catholic and share the gentleman’s concerns re: religion and Christianity. It’s had 2000 years now to do its best: any other undertaking of that length with such meagre results to show would have been abandoned hundreds of years ago. I’m tired of the ongoing religious discussions here, so I’ll just quietly unsubscribe. Bye, all. Take care.
PS and I don’t need anyone to read the beatitudes to me, as I doubt that gentleman did either.
To Chris C. and others who agree with him/her. If you think Christianity was and is a utopian project to create heaven on Earth, you (with all dubious humility on my part) may have completely misunderstood Christ's core truth. No wonder people are angry.
"I hate the Berry poem and can’t remember what I ever saw in it; it’s fundamentally dishonest." That's a little harsh, and not very cheerful at all. "Dishonest"? No, literary. Poetic. And perhaps contrary to your own experience of nature but not to Wendell's.
I guess it's hard to be entirely cheerful after 80. But you don't need to pick a fight with Wendell Berry, or with those of us who admire you both.
I was at my local Riverside branch NYPL, with just a few minutes to grab a book. That unto itself sad as I absolutely love the library. I generally search for fiction and wound up in the “K” stack and saw your The Lake Wobegon Virus. Well, right then and there, I decided thats the book for me and my eyes have not been dry for 5 min. Poor Pastor Liz. I cant get thru a page without laughing at your characters and situations. I have to go now as i am mtg Daryl at The Chatterbox Cafe but my boobs are not like Darlenes!! Thank you for such great story telling about the little things in life
It seems to me that your responses to most of the people who make comments to your Post to the Host pieces are contrarian. If someone remarks on what you've written about, say, a night of lost sleep due to ruminating about regrets and such, you tell that person the piece was about the morning after that night and attending church. If someone offers a kind reply with a Wendell Berry poem (that they say YOU made them aware of) and they offer it to you and other readers as a kind of balm for anxiety and worry, you tell them you hate the poem and that its ideas are lies. If someone recalls with great appreciation and fondness a joke or a song or a moment with you or your PHC program, you often say you don't remember it or you dismiss it in other ways. You seem to be wanting people to leave you alone, to not try to understand your material or pretend you and they have anything in common - except when it comes to buying merchandise or tickets.
When our 'child' decided to marry a man who is a verifiable genius, we learned that he did not like you or your radio program; we wondered if we could ever become fond of someone with such ideas. As it has turned out though, we have come to think his opinion may be correct. That all or almost all of your fans seem to adore you and take comfort and humor from everything you write or say might cause you to think twice before brushing them off like so many annoyances.
Being raised in a particular religion or in a certain area of the country or being old or whatever other characteristics lead to cliches and stereotypes no longer seems to be that funny anymore. Reckon I've gotten old, too, or maybe younger in some ways.
Honestly, methinks you doth protest too much because you really don't seem cheerful at all. I do love the music you brought to all of us radio-lovers though, over the many years of PHC. I wrote to you some months ago to suggest that, if you don't already, that you include the singing of rounds with your audiences. Rounds sung with a large group, a capella, can be beautiful and also funny if people lose their "line." I sent some suggestions for songs but my note didn't appear in your Post to the Host and there was no response. I suggest it again.
I wish you well. It makes me a little bit sad to apparently have fallen somewhat out of love with your work because it brought our family such joy and delight for so long. Seems like grieving a little bit.
I'm so sorry. I honestly don't care for the Wendell Berry poem but of course I didn't need to say so. But I actually am cheerful and I guess last week was a bad week. I will do better.
Well, we're all just trying to do better, I guess. I'm glad to know that you actually are cheerful and I will try to do better about being more cheerful in similar spirit to what you have written about as your practice, that it's a choice. The quote usually attributed to Ram Dass that I like is, "We are all just walking each other home." It seems to me that all of us who have loved what your work has been in our lives have just been reaching out to you (under the notion that you have reached out to them/to us) to say "howdy.... and thanks...." with that feeling that we are all just walking each other home. It's kind of a nice feeling and can be helpful when a bad week or a bad night comes along, as they do.
I appreciate your comment and the kind-hearted spirit of it. Let's all do better. Start with singing a round, maybe: Make new friends, but keep the old; some are silver and the other gold.
Good wishes to you~
Annie
I just realized what so attracts me to your musings. They are not one dimensional. You are cheerful and open hearted and then just out and say that you hate the Berry poem. That was refreshing. You manage to be sort of a youthful curmudgeon. In my humble opinion, Berry wasn't talking about the wolf lying down with the lamb, he just meant “Live while you live, then die and be done with.”
The Berry poem: Most wildlife do not live in peace, free of anxiety. Most live in fear of abruptly losing their lives, or losing their young. Some live looking for other wildlife to eat. It's a jungle out there--appearing beautiful because most wildlife are hiding from us when we're out in their territory.
Well, Garrison, it worked. Your dismissal of Wendell Berry’s poem “The Peace of Wild Things” fueled my righteous indignation and forced me out of a funk of disorientation, dismay and despair. After finishing your column, my dog and I bundled up and headed outside on his morning potty walk. At the top of the hill, I noticed February’s full moon lingering on the western horizon amidst pastel clouds just before sunrise. Forgetting my myopic preoccupations, we scrambled a shortcut downhill through the woods and past the sewage treatment plant and slid on ice-glazed rocks along the lake’s shoreline so we could find a panoramic view. No wood drakes to lie among, but the crisp fresh air and the scenic array awakened my senses with a renewed orientation of serenity. Some find their solace in the distractions of sports or the mindlessness of social media but for me (and my dog), we experience moments of contentment most often when we are outdoors and distanced from humans and immersed in “The Peace of Wild Things.” Granted, there are conflicts and culture wars among Nature’s critters too, but there is also a Greater Harmony that surrounds and sustains, (which humans seem to be hell-bent on destroying) that greets us from beyond ourselves and gifts us with moments of peace.
When I do shows, I always start out by singing with the audience, "America" and maybe the "Battle Hymn" and other songs and the loveliness f impromptu a capella audience singing moves me, just as your walk moved you.
Dear GK,
In all my careers, as an engineer, a lawyer, and last as a truck driver, I enjoyed driving the most. Four days a week going back and forth from the SF Bay Area to Reno traveling 7000 feet over Donner Summit. But what made this monotonous journey palatable was listening to PHC segments that I bought from Audio.Com. A performance would get me over my trips much quicker than without them. The good music, laughter, and many great stories I listened to are sorely missed. Now I am retired and living the good life in Isleton, in the heart of the Sacramento Delta. Then one day, it occurred to me. The reason you have probably never been here is no one had ever invited you for tea and a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie. You must have heard of our town. Pat Morita was born here. In fact, Locke, which is a few hamlets up the river from us, is still a quaint Asian-inspired built town. And pontoon boats! We have oodles of them if you want to do a nostalgic river run. Either way, this is an open invitation for lunch at The Point. I'll buy. See you soon.
Your forever fan,
Dea
Thanks. I'll keep it in mind.
At the risk of sounding grumpy (on what is really quite a beautiful, crystal-blue day here in southern Vermont) I’m afraid I’m going to have wonder about this often-expressed view that if one makes a conscious, deliberate choice to be cheerful, then one must almost necessarily be “in denial”.
Yes, there are certainly horrible things in the world; and surely no sane person would deny that. But what I guess I mean is that if someone “experience[s] regret, anxiety, and dread” --as certainly everyone does, very likely a huge portion of the time-- then why it seems that it should be seen as almost a moral failing if one doesn’t, consequently, also feel an obligation to make the day worse for everyone around us.
Actually, Nichael, what you said about "being in denial" isn't necessarily so. I used to be a grump on occasion, until I found out about serotonin - the "feel good natural source! Just google "Sources of Serotonin in food" and you'll find several different health databases that can get you on the Gladness/happy track! I accidentally ran across it in a health magazine in the last millennium - and have been mostly able to "keep on the Sunny Side!" ever since! Good luck with your new "Be Nice!" diet!
Experiencing regret, anxiety, and dread a huge portion of the time -- yikes. To anyone feeling an insufficiency of happiness, and who also hold happiness as a goal, I say that even if the arrival of your happiness is off schedule, when it does show up, it will have been worth the wait.
I grimaced at your dismissal of Wendell Berry’s poem, The Peace of Wild Things. Dishonest? Surely you don’t think he actually gets out of bed in the middle of the night and goes outside to lie on the ground. He’s using his memories, imagination and craft to invite his readers to make peace with anxiety. Berry’s poem is no more “dishonest” than your stories about Lake Woebegone, and just as wonderful.
Also, while I too am a fan of cheerfulness and try to practice it daily, I also try to allow my anxiety when it arises. It seems to me that life is much more both/and than it is either/or.
Dear Mr. Cheerful,
Your reply to Chris C.'s diatribe was beautiful ( Pun intended ). He be havin' a problem with his attitude. Your Evangelical audience should not lose hope for him. He is an agnostic, not an atheist. He seems to think there may be a way to heaven, and that God MAY exist. He thinks Christianity can be improved. He (She?) believes in Lent. Father Emil would love to chat with him/her.
Roger Krenkler LA
I admire feistiness in my equals, I being 75. You do a great job of staying amusing and I think your voice still has a ring. Stay Gold.
The Fitzgerald would love to see you again, I bet. That space had your back for so long. You say it has gone through changes -- who hasn't?
I don't think I've seen such graceful answers to internet questions before. Thank you, and please keep showing me how to do it.
I too am a recovering Catholic and share the gentleman’s concerns re: religion and Christianity. It’s had 2000 years now to do its best: any other undertaking of that length with such meagre results to show would have been abandoned hundreds of years ago. I’m tired of the ongoing religious discussions here, so I’ll just quietly unsubscribe. Bye, all. Take care.
PS and I don’t need anyone to read the beatitudes to me, as I doubt that gentleman did either.
To Chris C. and others who agree with him/her. If you think Christianity was and is a utopian project to create heaven on Earth, you (with all dubious humility on my part) may have completely misunderstood Christ's core truth. No wonder people are angry.
Your comment on the Wendell Berry poem made me laugh out loud. (I would have typed LOL, but I wasn't sure you'd understand.)
I understand. Glad you laughed.
"I hate the Berry poem and can’t remember what I ever saw in it; it’s fundamentally dishonest." That's a little harsh, and not very cheerful at all. "Dishonest"? No, literary. Poetic. And perhaps contrary to your own experience of nature but not to Wendell's.
I guess it's hard to be entirely cheerful after 80. But you don't need to pick a fight with Wendell Berry, or with those of us who admire you both.
I am now off the subject of Wendell Berry. I promise.
I found a poem from your reply about doing laundry or maybe it was petty thieft, I can't tell nowadays when I see things sitting around. "Wrinkled Sheets" https://docs.google.com/document/d/1lqv94s-yYndtxxETpRrXdoJeQuH1ODtBPoNsnvp7sT4/edit?usp=sharing
Wonderful poem. Thanks. I'm honored.
I was at my local Riverside branch NYPL, with just a few minutes to grab a book. That unto itself sad as I absolutely love the library. I generally search for fiction and wound up in the “K” stack and saw your The Lake Wobegon Virus. Well, right then and there, I decided thats the book for me and my eyes have not been dry for 5 min. Poor Pastor Liz. I cant get thru a page without laughing at your characters and situations. I have to go now as i am mtg Daryl at The Chatterbox Cafe but my boobs are not like Darlenes!! Thank you for such great story telling about the little things in life