A moment of silence can have powerful effects on an audience. I recall a keynote speaker, a mature fellow but younger than I am now, pause for what seemed an eternity. The audience shifted in their seats as he stared out at them. Then he broke the moment by saying, “Did you see what happened just now? You were worried. You felt empathy for a stranger.” It was a quietly powerful reminder that we were good, caring people.
A moment of silence can have powerful effects on an audience. I recall a keynote speaker, a mature fellow but younger than I am now, pause for what seemed an eternity. The audience shifted in their seats as he stared out at them. Then he broke the moment by saying, “Did you see what happened just now? You were worried. You felt empathy for a stranger.” It was a quietly powerful reminder that we were good, caring people.
Hang in there, lad! There are more audiences who will laugh and sing with you. And, if you pause punctually, they will think you are taking a good inhale for the forthcoming exhale. As Dame Julian of Norwich put it, "Joy is a grateful optimism in which, “All will be well, and all manner of things will be well.” It will be either a happy audience singing with you again, or a chorus of angels welcoming you home again. You can't lose! That chorus will be right on key!
I’ll be 69 next month. In Florida I’m often called, “young man.” I’ll take it. I’ve been writing for years, filing away stories and essays. I just began publishing them in books on Amazon KDP. Good for kids and friends at no cost to me. If I’m lucky I’ll sell 20 copies. So your comment about happy writers after age 70? I hope to be cheerful like you.
New London, CT is 128 miles from the UWS of Manhattan. Riverhead, NY is 70 miles away. Just curious how traveling 128 miles on I95 to take the ferry to Orient Point was preferable to traveling 70 miles on the LIE. I know the horror of the LIE. My daughter and son-in-law have a house on the North Fork, but I95 is really no better. While the ferry ride is lovely, I wouldn't nearly double my travel distance just to enjoy time on the Sound.
I loved your column, but you had me at the ferry to Orient Point in order to avoid the Long Island Expressway. Good choice. I drove from Boston to Long Island where I lived in a wonderful house on the Great South Bay thousands of times over the years to visit. Ah, the Long Island Expressway. I remember thinking early on that if I left at 3:00 a.m. I wouldn’t hit much traffic. Here’s the deal. No matter when you drive on the L.I.E. in either direction at any time of the day or night, it’s bumper to bumper with extremely few exceptions. I learned to endure it by playing car games in my head, like making up stories about the people in the cars around me. Nothing mean. Just innocent imaginings. This family is headed to West Islip for a weekend of sailing. That one is headed to grandma’s house for a delicious pot roast dinner you can’t find anywhere else in the whole wide world. So tender you can cut it with your fork.
I grew up on the Great South Bay, and there isn’t an instance where I smell the ocean and don’t get whisked back to that time in my life when all the neighborhood kids rowed out in a fleet of dinghies to go toe clamming in the patches of sand in the shallow waters. Our parents didn’t worry. We could swim like fish. Now I have to drive for half an hour to get to a beach in Essex (cozy little seaside town) where I have to pay $25.00 to park, walk a quarter of a mile to a steep flight of wooden stairs I have to scale over the dunes to get down to the beach, and then walk another quarter of a mile down the beach to reach a stretch of it that isn’t packed with screaming kids and parents screaming at their kids.
So I’ve very sadly had to change my lifestyle. The requirements for where I live now means that train whistles (I love trains, which I’ve mentioned before) and church bells are clearly audible on a regular basis, and I visit my sister in Connecticut regularly where she lives in a sweet little house with a huge yard, a tree farm and woods across the street and a farm silo you can see from a distance. She has a great swimming pool with a deck and a shaded swing and I float for hours under sky and trees peacefully. And you can see fireflies at night. We usually barbecue and eat outside.
But every or every other year I make the trek to my friend’s beach house on Fire Island. On the south side of Fire Island is the oh so familiar Great South Bay, and on the north side, the Atlantic Ocean with a beautiful uncrowded, white sand beach. I have to travel two uneventful state highways, the endless Mass. Pike, and the L.I.E. to get to Bayshore where I finally park and catch the ferry, where I am home again.
Aphasia? Hmmm! With me, there’s some calcium at an intersection in my heart. A doctor went in with a laser beam and blasted a lot of it away, like Luke Skywalker, then sucked it out. But it’s a bit like picking up spilled salt or sugar, trying to pick up one grain at a time. When I’ve been lying down or seated, I get up and my head swims. Before the operation, I’d just faint right away. Now, I just feel – pretty similar to the way you do with aphasia, I suppose, or close to it. I guess that’s one of the “thrills” about being an octogenarian! On the other hand, I “recover” in a bit, and “Keep On Keeping ON.” Then I think about those whose very existence makes a huge difference in my life to me (including our Gracious APHC Host!). Then my head clears. “Onward & Upward!” I go! I really feel sorry for those who have reached an advanced age, and have no one to interact with when their bodies remind them of their many years! Thanks for providing those of us who are "elderly" with a "stream" we can still swim in!
Hang in there, Mr. Keillor. Being one who loves the quote from Ram Dass, "We're all just walking each other home," you can imagine that those of us who love music, singing, stories, laughing, and the ephemeral kinship derived from those shared experiences and thus love those who give us those precious gifts, are figuratively holding your hand - not too long, not too hard, but gently, with friendly affection - all to say "we're with you, it will be ok, we're all walking each other home..."
Paradoxically, we all also have to accept the notions of the old song:
You've got to walk that lonesome valley,
You've got to walk it by yourself.
Ain't nobody else can walk it for you,
You've got to walk it by yourself.
So, I reckon that ultimately means that we have seen the EMT; the EMT is us.
So when the US Senate Minority Leader has aphasia we say that it's time for the torch to be passed to more vigorous, sane leadership that has all its marbles, but when an aging raconteur has aphasia during a show we say "Thank God for EMTs" and go on with life?
In public leadership, at least one "marble" is the ability to communicate lucidly and vigorously, unlike most leaders of both parties today. I certainly accept you point that aphasia is not madness, but it's not what you want from public leaders or even entertainers.
You say you dread the prospect of retirement because in some cases ('so many?') it leads to disintegration and dementia. You are not some cases, it's questionable to spend energy dreading the unknown, and I'm pretty sure I had a third thing, but I retired six years ago. Oh, right -- very glad to hear you denied that shark a light snack! By the way, although you attest to much greater pleasure than those who golf and such, you will never really know, wouldn't you say?
Hold on, Garrison. The last I knew, you said you were a writer. Now you say you're a performer. Does this mean you're no longer a writer? Was it the aphasia?
A moment of silence can have powerful effects on an audience. I recall a keynote speaker, a mature fellow but younger than I am now, pause for what seemed an eternity. The audience shifted in their seats as he stared out at them. Then he broke the moment by saying, “Did you see what happened just now? You were worried. You felt empathy for a stranger.” It was a quietly powerful reminder that we were good, caring people.
A moment of silence can have powerful effects on an audience. I recall a keynote speaker, a mature fellow but younger than I am now, pause for what seemed an eternity. The audience shifted in their seats as he stared out at them. Then he broke the moment by saying, “Did you see what happened just now? You were worried. You felt empathy for a stranger.” It was a quietly powerful reminder that we were good, caring people.
Repetition is also said to be powerful for some.
Haha 😂!
You seem to be having too much fun for retirement. George Burns kept working, too, and he made it to 100!
Hang in there, lad! There are more audiences who will laugh and sing with you. And, if you pause punctually, they will think you are taking a good inhale for the forthcoming exhale. As Dame Julian of Norwich put it, "Joy is a grateful optimism in which, “All will be well, and all manner of things will be well.” It will be either a happy audience singing with you again, or a chorus of angels welcoming you home again. You can't lose! That chorus will be right on key!
IF I'M THERE, GET OUT YOUR PITCH PIPE AND CHECK ME. I MIGHT BE JUST A BIT OFF...THAT'S THE WORST..
You are so good.
Eloquent aphasia, that's you. Relining the points on the track takes time, sometimes, before more deep thoughts.
I’ll be 69 next month. In Florida I’m often called, “young man.” I’ll take it. I’ve been writing for years, filing away stories and essays. I just began publishing them in books on Amazon KDP. Good for kids and friends at no cost to me. If I’m lucky I’ll sell 20 copies. So your comment about happy writers after age 70? I hope to be cheerful like you.
New London, CT is 128 miles from the UWS of Manhattan. Riverhead, NY is 70 miles away. Just curious how traveling 128 miles on I95 to take the ferry to Orient Point was preferable to traveling 70 miles on the LIE. I know the horror of the LIE. My daughter and son-in-law have a house on the North Fork, but I95 is really no better. While the ferry ride is lovely, I wouldn't nearly double my travel distance just to enjoy time on the Sound.
I think he was in CT already, GK, confirm.
I loved your column, but you had me at the ferry to Orient Point in order to avoid the Long Island Expressway. Good choice. I drove from Boston to Long Island where I lived in a wonderful house on the Great South Bay thousands of times over the years to visit. Ah, the Long Island Expressway. I remember thinking early on that if I left at 3:00 a.m. I wouldn’t hit much traffic. Here’s the deal. No matter when you drive on the L.I.E. in either direction at any time of the day or night, it’s bumper to bumper with extremely few exceptions. I learned to endure it by playing car games in my head, like making up stories about the people in the cars around me. Nothing mean. Just innocent imaginings. This family is headed to West Islip for a weekend of sailing. That one is headed to grandma’s house for a delicious pot roast dinner you can’t find anywhere else in the whole wide world. So tender you can cut it with your fork.
I grew up on the Great South Bay, and there isn’t an instance where I smell the ocean and don’t get whisked back to that time in my life when all the neighborhood kids rowed out in a fleet of dinghies to go toe clamming in the patches of sand in the shallow waters. Our parents didn’t worry. We could swim like fish. Now I have to drive for half an hour to get to a beach in Essex (cozy little seaside town) where I have to pay $25.00 to park, walk a quarter of a mile to a steep flight of wooden stairs I have to scale over the dunes to get down to the beach, and then walk another quarter of a mile down the beach to reach a stretch of it that isn’t packed with screaming kids and parents screaming at their kids.
So I’ve very sadly had to change my lifestyle. The requirements for where I live now means that train whistles (I love trains, which I’ve mentioned before) and church bells are clearly audible on a regular basis, and I visit my sister in Connecticut regularly where she lives in a sweet little house with a huge yard, a tree farm and woods across the street and a farm silo you can see from a distance. She has a great swimming pool with a deck and a shaded swing and I float for hours under sky and trees peacefully. And you can see fireflies at night. We usually barbecue and eat outside.
But every or every other year I make the trek to my friend’s beach house on Fire Island. On the south side of Fire Island is the oh so familiar Great South Bay, and on the north side, the Atlantic Ocean with a beautiful uncrowded, white sand beach. I have to travel two uneventful state highways, the endless Mass. Pike, and the L.I.E. to get to Bayshore where I finally park and catch the ferry, where I am home again.
"With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy."
Carry on, beautiful souL.
x x x x Teri
Sorry to hear about your talk generator pausing, it's happened to me a few times over the years. Reading, music and recitation help.
Aphasia? Hmmm! With me, there’s some calcium at an intersection in my heart. A doctor went in with a laser beam and blasted a lot of it away, like Luke Skywalker, then sucked it out. But it’s a bit like picking up spilled salt or sugar, trying to pick up one grain at a time. When I’ve been lying down or seated, I get up and my head swims. Before the operation, I’d just faint right away. Now, I just feel – pretty similar to the way you do with aphasia, I suppose, or close to it. I guess that’s one of the “thrills” about being an octogenarian! On the other hand, I “recover” in a bit, and “Keep On Keeping ON.” Then I think about those whose very existence makes a huge difference in my life to me (including our Gracious APHC Host!). Then my head clears. “Onward & Upward!” I go! I really feel sorry for those who have reached an advanced age, and have no one to interact with when their bodies remind them of their many years! Thanks for providing those of us who are "elderly" with a "stream" we can still swim in!
Hang in there, Mr. Keillor. Being one who loves the quote from Ram Dass, "We're all just walking each other home," you can imagine that those of us who love music, singing, stories, laughing, and the ephemeral kinship derived from those shared experiences and thus love those who give us those precious gifts, are figuratively holding your hand - not too long, not too hard, but gently, with friendly affection - all to say "we're with you, it will be ok, we're all walking each other home..."
Paradoxically, we all also have to accept the notions of the old song:
You've got to walk that lonesome valley,
You've got to walk it by yourself.
Ain't nobody else can walk it for you,
You've got to walk it by yourself.
So, I reckon that ultimately means that we have seen the EMT; the EMT is us.
So when the US Senate Minority Leader has aphasia we say that it's time for the torch to be passed to more vigorous, sane leadership that has all its marbles, but when an aging raconteur has aphasia during a show we say "Thank God for EMTs" and go on with life?
Aphasia is caused by a physical medical problem, not loss of marbles.
In public leadership, at least one "marble" is the ability to communicate lucidly and vigorously, unlike most leaders of both parties today. I certainly accept you point that aphasia is not madness, but it's not what you want from public leaders or even entertainers.
You say you dread the prospect of retirement because in some cases ('so many?') it leads to disintegration and dementia. You are not some cases, it's questionable to spend energy dreading the unknown, and I'm pretty sure I had a third thing, but I retired six years ago. Oh, right -- very glad to hear you denied that shark a light snack! By the way, although you attest to much greater pleasure than those who golf and such, you will never really know, wouldn't you say?
Hold on, Garrison. The last I knew, you said you were a writer. Now you say you're a performer. Does this mean you're no longer a writer? Was it the aphasia?
My question as well, GK has written several books recently.