"Conservatism" now means refusing to recognize any election you lose, accusing dark-skinned migrants of eating American dogs and cats, and lying about everything, constantly. It's a disgrace that so-called conservatives have accepted all this and much more. It's un-American and anti-American.
A marital learning experience, eh? I've had one of those myself. Sort of "training wheels". As with my experience with training wheels, I did end up with my face in the dust, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world. What I learned came in handy for #2.
I spent many hours a few years ago listening to the entire collected catalogue of Gunsmoke radio show episodes.
The two-beat pause after some nefarious character gives Marshall Dillon just a bit too much lip and we hear Dillon's chair scratch back and his two deliberate spurred boot steps forward to confront said villain is pure radio magic. I can still "see" it now.
Anyway. Your mention of the show reminded me of all that.
We admire you more with each quickly passing year . Maybe it's not you but rather us . The snow gets deeper (or I'm getting shorter) and it's getting colder (I moved back to Connecticut from CA) with each passing year. (Hell, each passing week.) But I can't complain. Or I could but what good would it do?
A fun bit of name dropping, but Philip Roth did not write Herzog. Saul Bellow did.
Speaking of name dropping — I once met Calvin Trillin at a gathering of former Yale NEWS editors. When I told him the kinship I felt to one of his books, he nodded and walked away. Where was John Updike when I needed him?
I heard a rendition of our national anthem delivered by a church choir at Keeneland Race Course that you could dance to. It was not a call to war or a funeral dirge, it was joyful . No mournful pauses, no grandiose embellishment or finish. The choir wore street clothes stood at ease in a grassy paddock. It lifted me.
There is no correct way to hear the national anthem.
But when I hear the national anthem I think of Ted Fuller. Ted Fuller was a young man in New Hampshire that loved his White Mountains, heart and soul. Having spent 25 years climbing all over the high peaks in the Adirondacks, I developed a deep love and spiritual apprecition for the mountains. They offered physical, mental, and intellectual challenges. They were more beautiful than words could describe. I considered myself a mountain goat. And like all good mountain goats I had kids, two girls. And they too experienced the physical, mental, and intellectual challenges these mountains had to offer, and as a result, became strong women. Well, Ted was a mountain goat, just like me. He worked for the Appalacian Mountain Club (AMC) at the Lake-of-the-Clouds hut on Mount Washington. The hut was a place where you could spend the night and get fed by a staff of young folks after climbing Mount Washington. Ted became the hutmaster of the Lake-of-the- Clouds hut his second year with the AMC. And his heart and soul became intertwined with the White Mountains much like mine did with the Adirondack Mountains.
In 1943 the United States drafted Ted Fuller, and after his training he was shipped to Germany in 1944. He died in Germany in 1944 and is buried at the Lorraine American Cemetery and Memorial in Lorrane, France. Ted died when he was 19. A wonderful life cut short because of the needs of his country, and quite frankly, the world. I got to enjoy the Adirondacks for 25 years. And I learned something new and wonderful each year. Ted only had a couple of years. I got to introduce these wonderful mountains to my daughters. Ted did not have the opportunity to have any kids, so he could not share those wonderful White Mountains with his offspring. But because of Ted's sacrifices I have had a wonderful life in this free and blessed country.
And so when I hear the national anthem I think of my blessed life that was made possible because of the sacrifices some have made. Like Ted Fuller. More often than not, I shed a grateful tear. I do not openly criticize those that have vastly different views, or even disrepect or protest the national anthem. But I do wish those folks had the opportunity to hear Ted's story.
I'm really appreciate your telling his story. Like Ted, my father was also drafted and sent to Germany in 1944. He was one of the lucky ones who came back.
I loved this post. My favorite lines were: "Every mishap leads to good fortune " and, "God never shuts one door but what He opens another." Thank you Garrison.
"Marital learning experiences" is a good turn of a phase. I once saw a wine labeled THIRD WIFE WINES. We took a couple of bottles with us to dinner that night because we were joining a couple where the husband possessed a similar large capacity to love as did I, and our wives were members of that wine club. Both are adventurous women.
My second go-round in the marriage business was the charm. It happened because I had a job in television that I did not like, and like is too kind. I instead decided that graduate school was a good alternative. Shortly after leaving tv, I met with a friend who thought that I should go to a movie in San Francisco with him and his girlfriend. His girlfriend and I had a meaningful conversation that day, and we still have them almost fifty years later. So much for tv and that long ago friendship.
We should all be truly thankful that, whether for the sake of propriety or fiscal conservatism, your parents didn't have a TV in the house. Not saying I wouldn't have bought your books--I love them, especially "The Book of Guys." If I'm feeling in need of a good belly laugh, there's nothing quite like revisiting "The Chuck Show of Television." But, then again, how would I have known about the books if not for your comforting presence on the radio? Oh, sure, you could have done the interview circuit--but I've only ever bought one book based on an interview with Terry Gross: "Skin Tight" by Carl Hiaasen. His world--semi-fictional toward Florida the way your world takes a "really might be mostly true" view of Minnesota--can also provoke an outburst of laughter. But he's not that good on the radio and I sincerely doubt he knows even one verse of one hymn. When I see you at the Ryman, it's like revisiting the old Broadman Hymnal, and that's not a bad thing, either. So thank you, sir. Hope to run into you sometime at the Hotel St. Paul, which to my way of thinking is the only rational place to stay in that fine city.
I believe that the idea of a door opening when another closes originates with Alexander Graham Bell, and I think the second half of his sentence is vitally important and should be better known. He said “When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us.”
Your essay really illustrates why you were able to use your life challenges as opportunities to grow and improve. As someone once said, ‘Twenty four ministers, up to their smiles in water, chins up, trying to understand this experience and its deeper meaning.’
"Conservatism" now means refusing to recognize any election you lose, accusing dark-skinned migrants of eating American dogs and cats, and lying about everything, constantly. It's a disgrace that so-called conservatives have accepted all this and much more. It's un-American and anti-American.
A marital learning experience, eh? I've had one of those myself. Sort of "training wheels". As with my experience with training wheels, I did end up with my face in the dust, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world. What I learned came in handy for #2.
I spent many hours a few years ago listening to the entire collected catalogue of Gunsmoke radio show episodes.
The two-beat pause after some nefarious character gives Marshall Dillon just a bit too much lip and we hear Dillon's chair scratch back and his two deliberate spurred boot steps forward to confront said villain is pure radio magic. I can still "see" it now.
Anyway. Your mention of the show reminded me of all that.
Thanks! Carry on! :)
We admire you more with each quickly passing year . Maybe it's not you but rather us . The snow gets deeper (or I'm getting shorter) and it's getting colder (I moved back to Connecticut from CA) with each passing year. (Hell, each passing week.) But I can't complain. Or I could but what good would it do?
A fun bit of name dropping, but Philip Roth did not write Herzog. Saul Bellow did.
Speaking of name dropping — I once met Calvin Trillin at a gathering of former Yale NEWS editors. When I told him the kinship I felt to one of his books, he nodded and walked away. Where was John Updike when I needed him?
I heard a rendition of our national anthem delivered by a church choir at Keeneland Race Course that you could dance to. It was not a call to war or a funeral dirge, it was joyful . No mournful pauses, no grandiose embellishment or finish. The choir wore street clothes stood at ease in a grassy paddock. It lifted me.
There is no correct way to hear the national anthem.
But when I hear the national anthem I think of Ted Fuller. Ted Fuller was a young man in New Hampshire that loved his White Mountains, heart and soul. Having spent 25 years climbing all over the high peaks in the Adirondacks, I developed a deep love and spiritual apprecition for the mountains. They offered physical, mental, and intellectual challenges. They were more beautiful than words could describe. I considered myself a mountain goat. And like all good mountain goats I had kids, two girls. And they too experienced the physical, mental, and intellectual challenges these mountains had to offer, and as a result, became strong women. Well, Ted was a mountain goat, just like me. He worked for the Appalacian Mountain Club (AMC) at the Lake-of-the-Clouds hut on Mount Washington. The hut was a place where you could spend the night and get fed by a staff of young folks after climbing Mount Washington. Ted became the hutmaster of the Lake-of-the- Clouds hut his second year with the AMC. And his heart and soul became intertwined with the White Mountains much like mine did with the Adirondack Mountains.
In 1943 the United States drafted Ted Fuller, and after his training he was shipped to Germany in 1944. He died in Germany in 1944 and is buried at the Lorraine American Cemetery and Memorial in Lorrane, France. Ted died when he was 19. A wonderful life cut short because of the needs of his country, and quite frankly, the world. I got to enjoy the Adirondacks for 25 years. And I learned something new and wonderful each year. Ted only had a couple of years. I got to introduce these wonderful mountains to my daughters. Ted did not have the opportunity to have any kids, so he could not share those wonderful White Mountains with his offspring. But because of Ted's sacrifices I have had a wonderful life in this free and blessed country.
And so when I hear the national anthem I think of my blessed life that was made possible because of the sacrifices some have made. Like Ted Fuller. More often than not, I shed a grateful tear. I do not openly criticize those that have vastly different views, or even disrepect or protest the national anthem. But I do wish those folks had the opportunity to hear Ted's story.
I'm really appreciate your telling his story. Like Ted, my father was also drafted and sent to Germany in 1944. He was one of the lucky ones who came back.
To Ted🍷
What a beautiful and meaningful story. Thank you♥️
I too wandered the Adirondacks for 25 years.
Your beautiful story—and it’s poignant ending—reminded me of hearing that the mighty Hudson has its source in Lake Tear of the Clouds. Same lake?
I was there at Keenland. Wonderful singing and a gorgeous
race track.
As GK and others have pointed out, in the key of G, our national anthem is accessible.
Maybe the Congessional mandate to do it in Bflat where most of us struggle would be a great target for our incoming efficiency experts?
thank you for being the first thing I read this morning. Such sweetness and joy. You ARE a very lucky man.
Good luck.
I loved this post. My favorite lines were: "Every mishap leads to good fortune " and, "God never shuts one door but what He opens another." Thank you Garrison.
I invented a word for the mishaps that lead to good. Oopsortunity.
Wonderful post!
We almost met in Tucson but didn't.
I'll tell that story into my fast-approaching dotage and make it better every time I tell it.
Enjoyable. Much needed relaxation 2 days before chaos ensues.👏🏻
"Marital learning experiences" is a good turn of a phase. I once saw a wine labeled THIRD WIFE WINES. We took a couple of bottles with us to dinner that night because we were joining a couple where the husband possessed a similar large capacity to love as did I, and our wives were members of that wine club. Both are adventurous women.
Lucky, blessed, or concealing?
My second go-round in the marriage business was the charm. It happened because I had a job in television that I did not like, and like is too kind. I instead decided that graduate school was a good alternative. Shortly after leaving tv, I met with a friend who thought that I should go to a movie in San Francisco with him and his girlfriend. His girlfriend and I had a meaningful conversation that day, and we still have them almost fifty years later. So much for tv and that long ago friendship.
We should all be truly thankful that, whether for the sake of propriety or fiscal conservatism, your parents didn't have a TV in the house. Not saying I wouldn't have bought your books--I love them, especially "The Book of Guys." If I'm feeling in need of a good belly laugh, there's nothing quite like revisiting "The Chuck Show of Television." But, then again, how would I have known about the books if not for your comforting presence on the radio? Oh, sure, you could have done the interview circuit--but I've only ever bought one book based on an interview with Terry Gross: "Skin Tight" by Carl Hiaasen. His world--semi-fictional toward Florida the way your world takes a "really might be mostly true" view of Minnesota--can also provoke an outburst of laughter. But he's not that good on the radio and I sincerely doubt he knows even one verse of one hymn. When I see you at the Ryman, it's like revisiting the old Broadman Hymnal, and that's not a bad thing, either. So thank you, sir. Hope to run into you sometime at the Hotel St. Paul, which to my way of thinking is the only rational place to stay in that fine city.
I believe that the idea of a door opening when another closes originates with Alexander Graham Bell, and I think the second half of his sentence is vitally important and should be better known. He said “When one door closes another door opens; but we so often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door, that we do not see the ones which open for us.”
Your essay really illustrates why you were able to use your life challenges as opportunities to grow and improve. As someone once said, ‘Twenty four ministers, up to their smiles in water, chins up, trying to understand this experience and its deeper meaning.’