Dear Garrison: I will be so familiar, having heard you on the radio over these lo many years, and read your writing and recently actually HEARD AND SEEN YOU (there actually is a Garrison Keillor ! Wonder of wonders !) in your wonderful at Strathmore Theater here in Maryland (Murlun, in true pronunciation). I cannot come to Minnesota to whisper a story in thine ear, but I would offer this short one here: We lived on Norwood Road, about a half mile from the little (now) classic country intersection store labeled "The Red Door Store", which is now owned by the county park system. . Mom and I could walk up there to get a loaf of bread, say, and a popsicle for me. When I became old enough to go there myself, (ALONE!) , my dad offered me this piece of advice: "If you ever shake hands with Mrs. Smith (the owner), make sure you count your fingers afterwards." Seems that Mrs. Smith was not averse to shortchanging a kid, even of a nickel or dime, if she could.... Thanks again for being Garrison Keillor
Congratulation. Some very desired recognition for a very productive and admired career. Your style and genre of writing is well known to the senior class of NPR listeners. I hope that the review will increase your acceptance in a more diverse populace of readers. Again, well done.
At age 82, I am with you, RR and GK. I like being old so much I wrote a book about it, called The Granny who Stands on her Head (which I am and I do). I also write a Substack under this title where you can see me do this.
I have a friend whose second book was reviewed in the NYT. The first sentence began: “It’s hard to even imagine a more confused book...”
Glad to hear April is not always the cruelest month. I agree, these are days to enjoy and be instruments of Light… “where there there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.” Thank you.
Feeling seen and appreciated by someone you respect is a lovely gift and a gold star you may add to what you've been receiving anonymously, sometimes loudly from thousands in crowds. Very, very nice. 😁💙
The upcoming June 15th, all-day/evening celebration, will be the ultimate honor, congratulations, Mr. Keillor!
(Thank you for advising us about the thoughtful/fun/delicious events the Minnesota chamber planned.)
Regarding what you typed about your book review:
"...unremarkable, like a friend’s cat climbing into my lap: not the equivalent of good conversation...";
I had a beloved cat that sat upon guest's laps, and told them stories about his day/life.
His voice had inflections, and tone changes, all the while looking into your eyes, without diverting. Seriously. He would expect you to talk back-and-forth.
I'd found him as a 3-mo.-old stray; he lived to age 17. Never known a cat like him before, or since. Like you, sir, an original. Love your work!
My brother got a kitten when he was 5 and handled it like a baby. We have a cute picture of the two of them rolled up in a blanket on the couch with just their heads showing. The cat became very tame and so tolerant of people that he would climb onto any lap when he got the chance, even in hot weather when he wasn't welcome. When my brother was about 10 he had a friend visiting him and the cat jumped onto the boy's lap. He loved cats, so he was thrilled, and exclaimed, "Animals love me!" My brother and I and our mother were in the room at the time and we broke into laughter hearing this, knowing the cat's reputation for jumping onto any available lap.
We lived in a house that backed onto a field and woods with several other houses on the other side. On day my mother visited a friend who lived on the opposite side of the field and found ot that the woman's cat had recently had kittens. My mother didn't say anything when she saw them, but she immediately suspected their paternity. She later told us that she had found it difficult to keep from laughing because the kittens all looked just like my brother's big, old, unfixed male cat.
Although I was tempted a couple of times when reading your review of your reviewer to comment, "Geez! You two, get a room!" I didn't because I realized that I was just jealous and the better angel of my nature moved me, instead, to say how truly happy that I am for you, Mr. Keillor, someone who doesn't know me but who feels to me, nonetheless, like an old friend of mine. Also, I just bought your Cheerfulness book both the paperback and the audible version, because I tend to be one who sees our world sliding into the fiery abyss, and I don't want to see things like that, even if only for a few moments of blissful delusion. I wish that I could come see you in your writer's booth at the big Avon, MN, celebration of the Lake Woebegone Trail to whisper a story to you for use in your next Lake Woebegone book. It would have been a real hoot, hopefully for both of us. Stay well and cheerful, Old Friend!
I'm 83-12, a couple of years ahead of you GK. Prompted by a commentary in the paper about a widower still trying to learn how to live alone after the death of his wife, I'm writing another essay, this one on living alone 7-1/2 years after 55-1/2 year of wonderful marriage (to one of your Jr High classmates). I miss her but learning to live alone (easier for an introvert, I guess).
When we were back living in Princeton MN ('02?), before moving to Maine, we biked the Lake Wobegon Trail from Avon to Freeport, past all of the landmarks incorporated into the Lake Wobegon stories. A year later we camped in the great town campground in Sauk Center, visited and ate in the town, and biked the other end of the Lake Wobegon trail south from town (it wasn't finished all the way to the Avon portion). Great biking.
I think the line you quote from Ms. O'Gieblyn's essay is a perceptive one: “The prose throughout the book is both sharp and buoyant, and often arrives, somewhat unexpectedly, at profundity.” It reflects my own reaction to your writing, both in books and in your substack posts. As another old, white male just a couple of years your junior, I would observe that we gain this insight (profundity, if you will) by what happens to us as we navigate the course of our lives. Your gift is to provide your insights in sharp, buoyant prose seasoned by a great sense of humor. You may not aspire to profundity, but you achieve it nonetheless.
While I am new to elder status at a youthful 57, I am told I am much older for still finding a way to read and listen to your work. My journey started as a youth because Uncle listened to your Prairie Home Companion and Grandpa listened to Paul Harvey, both which still remind me to be cheerful all of these years later.
Looking forward to attending your 50th Anniversary in person at the at the Fitzgerald Theater that has so often only been imagined in my mind. I find Cheerfulness that you are still contributing.
Dear Garrison: I will be so familiar, having heard you on the radio over these lo many years, and read your writing and recently actually HEARD AND SEEN YOU (there actually is a Garrison Keillor ! Wonder of wonders !) in your wonderful at Strathmore Theater here in Maryland (Murlun, in true pronunciation). I cannot come to Minnesota to whisper a story in thine ear, but I would offer this short one here: We lived on Norwood Road, about a half mile from the little (now) classic country intersection store labeled "The Red Door Store", which is now owned by the county park system. . Mom and I could walk up there to get a loaf of bread, say, and a popsicle for me. When I became old enough to go there myself, (ALONE!) , my dad offered me this piece of advice: "If you ever shake hands with Mrs. Smith (the owner), make sure you count your fingers afterwards." Seems that Mrs. Smith was not averse to shortchanging a kid, even of a nickel or dime, if she could.... Thanks again for being Garrison Keillor
Go Gary, Go!! It will become the Keillor battle cry! More you do not need, nor we....Tom
Congratulation. Some very desired recognition for a very productive and admired career. Your style and genre of writing is well known to the senior class of NPR listeners. I hope that the review will increase your acceptance in a more diverse populace of readers. Again, well done.
Mr Mencken would have been proud to write this!
Others should try this "getting old" thing. It's amazing, kuz I too enjoy it. RR
At age 82, I am with you, RR and GK. I like being old so much I wrote a book about it, called The Granny who Stands on her Head (which I am and I do). I also write a Substack under this title where you can see me do this.
I have a friend whose second book was reviewed in the NYT. The first sentence began: “It’s hard to even imagine a more confused book...”
Glad to hear April is not always the cruelest month. I agree, these are days to enjoy and be instruments of Light… “where there there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.” Thank you.
Feeling seen and appreciated by someone you respect is a lovely gift and a gold star you may add to what you've been receiving anonymously, sometimes loudly from thousands in crowds. Very, very nice. 😁💙
Have you ever been to South Dakota?
The idea that it's possible that GK has not been to South Dakota is pretty wild.
I've been in it and through it many times.
The upcoming June 15th, all-day/evening celebration, will be the ultimate honor, congratulations, Mr. Keillor!
(Thank you for advising us about the thoughtful/fun/delicious events the Minnesota chamber planned.)
Regarding what you typed about your book review:
"...unremarkable, like a friend’s cat climbing into my lap: not the equivalent of good conversation...";
I had a beloved cat that sat upon guest's laps, and told them stories about his day/life.
His voice had inflections, and tone changes, all the while looking into your eyes, without diverting. Seriously. He would expect you to talk back-and-forth.
I'd found him as a 3-mo.-old stray; he lived to age 17. Never known a cat like him before, or since. Like you, sir, an original. Love your work!
My brother got a kitten when he was 5 and handled it like a baby. We have a cute picture of the two of them rolled up in a blanket on the couch with just their heads showing. The cat became very tame and so tolerant of people that he would climb onto any lap when he got the chance, even in hot weather when he wasn't welcome. When my brother was about 10 he had a friend visiting him and the cat jumped onto the boy's lap. He loved cats, so he was thrilled, and exclaimed, "Animals love me!" My brother and I and our mother were in the room at the time and we broke into laughter hearing this, knowing the cat's reputation for jumping onto any available lap.
We lived in a house that backed onto a field and woods with several other houses on the other side. On day my mother visited a friend who lived on the opposite side of the field and found ot that the woman's cat had recently had kittens. My mother didn't say anything when she saw them, but she immediately suspected their paternity. She later told us that she had found it difficult to keep from laughing because the kittens all looked just like my brother's big, old, unfixed male cat.
Although I was tempted a couple of times when reading your review of your reviewer to comment, "Geez! You two, get a room!" I didn't because I realized that I was just jealous and the better angel of my nature moved me, instead, to say how truly happy that I am for you, Mr. Keillor, someone who doesn't know me but who feels to me, nonetheless, like an old friend of mine. Also, I just bought your Cheerfulness book both the paperback and the audible version, because I tend to be one who sees our world sliding into the fiery abyss, and I don't want to see things like that, even if only for a few moments of blissful delusion. I wish that I could come see you in your writer's booth at the big Avon, MN, celebration of the Lake Woebegone Trail to whisper a story to you for use in your next Lake Woebegone book. It would have been a real hoot, hopefully for both of us. Stay well and cheerful, Old Friend!
True praise from a peer, is there anything more affirming?!
Time to read another segment of “Cheerfulness.” :-)
I'm 83-12, a couple of years ahead of you GK. Prompted by a commentary in the paper about a widower still trying to learn how to live alone after the death of his wife, I'm writing another essay, this one on living alone 7-1/2 years after 55-1/2 year of wonderful marriage (to one of your Jr High classmates). I miss her but learning to live alone (easier for an introvert, I guess).
When we were back living in Princeton MN ('02?), before moving to Maine, we biked the Lake Wobegon Trail from Avon to Freeport, past all of the landmarks incorporated into the Lake Wobegon stories. A year later we camped in the great town campground in Sauk Center, visited and ate in the town, and biked the other end of the Lake Wobegon trail south from town (it wasn't finished all the way to the Avon portion). Great biking.
I think the line you quote from Ms. O'Gieblyn's essay is a perceptive one: “The prose throughout the book is both sharp and buoyant, and often arrives, somewhat unexpectedly, at profundity.” It reflects my own reaction to your writing, both in books and in your substack posts. As another old, white male just a couple of years your junior, I would observe that we gain this insight (profundity, if you will) by what happens to us as we navigate the course of our lives. Your gift is to provide your insights in sharp, buoyant prose seasoned by a great sense of humor. You may not aspire to profundity, but you achieve it nonetheless.
While I am new to elder status at a youthful 57, I am told I am much older for still finding a way to read and listen to your work. My journey started as a youth because Uncle listened to your Prairie Home Companion and Grandpa listened to Paul Harvey, both which still remind me to be cheerful all of these years later.
Looking forward to attending your 50th Anniversary in person at the at the Fitzgerald Theater that has so often only been imagined in my mind. I find Cheerfulness that you are still contributing.