30 Comments

That piece was poetry itself Mr Keillor. Insightful and moving.

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I agree! Thank you so much, Garrison!

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Mr Keillor, you are a treasure... every day. Or almost. Because on non-treasure days, your are the voice our country needs. Onwards into the Fall (...fall) . Spring will, of course, spring, but we first have to weather a Fall whose bruises will remain imbedded into our bones.

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Mr. Keillor,

Do you still stream your shows? If so, where can I watch them?

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At my age of 84 my tank has shrunk and so has much of me. Your column reminds me of what 80 was, and the energy of even younger years. It is all amazing, this slowing down whether one likes it or not. My beloved, 4 years younger than I, keeps me afloat when my dementia and I shout, "What does our day hold?" and for which I remember and repeat myself. We don't even drive to St. Cloud anymore. It's a fine town of many dear friends, as it looks east to your Fair City of Woebegon, and like yours, beats Saginaw's, but that should never be said. Visit those towns again to remind them, like Paul Simon did in his "America" ballad:

"It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw

I've gone to look for America...." and so it goes. Even Sawganites move on, looking for America. Keep up the visits, Garrison. A program full of your former America may be brought to our seats from which we can clap and sing, "America."

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PS:Oops! I forgot to add, "It keeps guys like me younger a bit, too."

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Thank you for this...it's lovely

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Beautiful essay today, a path we’ve followed from Connecticut and points north for many years, to Riverside Drive. I don’t know why it reminded me of visiting my poet uncle, Robert Lax, on the island of Patmos, the ferry rounding the corner in midnight darkness and suddenly seeing the twinkling island lights.

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Beautiful.

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Theodore Roethke was my favorite poet as far back as when I was in college. I won an Oral Interpretation contest using his poetry. My favorite poem of his is a relatively simple one. My lizard, my lively writher

May your limbs never wither

May the eyes in your face

Survive the green ice

Of envy's mean gaze;

May you live out your life

Without hate, without grief,

May your hair ever blaze

In the sun, in the sun

When I am undone

When I am no one.

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Such a brilliant piece of writing, Garrison. Thank you for brightening my morning. R. L. Stine

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I see by the comments that everyone is really effusive with this offering- and I should be- but for some reason I can’t get past “and what a congress of stinks.” For me the C should be capitalized and applied to our current House of Representative. But I am only75- still young enough to be literal, I guess.

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Glen: I'm 87 and have been an admirer of Garrison's sense of irony for as long as he's been in the public eye during the PHC days. However, I liked it better when he was grumpier and more inclined to be more realistic in his appraisal of things. He has lost his punch lately with all this "wonder" when the reality is that the world is on the edge of falling apart as Mother Nature has her way in all regards. His new approach seems to me to be more like Nero's. I spent many years making music with my jazz band in Saginaw. Now a shadow of its former self.

And as Lily Tomlin's character, Edith Ann, would say, "That's the truth."

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Grumpier like David Letterman after his health scare no doubt. Yes, it's ok to be human even if Nature is crumbling away into the Atlantic seas.

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Best way to start the day…photos of cows and autumn leaves, a few lines about a happy couple with their baby, and Garrison going back in time to poems that never aged even though we have.

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founding

This came on the morning that our 3rd grandchild entered the world. His name is Fritz, so he will need to be strong. Reports are that he is. Saginaw is just down the road from our home where my good friend and poet Al Hellus lived. He also drank and smoked himself to death way too soon, as I think he thought a poet should. The sky is gray today and the leaves are all down but the richness of my thoughts this morning deserve another cup and a bowl of apple crisp made by a woman, beautiful in her bones, who told me 42 years ago on a sidewalk at Cornell that her goal in life was to be a grandmother.

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The poetry and reflections got my day off to a good start. Thank you. I hope today is as beautiful in the big city as it is in Alabama!

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I'm a Roethke fan. His collected poems are on my nightstand. I love the Chinese poets from the T'ang period; I find their beatiful influence in his work. My I suggens his poem "The Waking" for your readers enjoyment? A lovely work indeed. Wonderful letter today too, BTW.

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Moody and immersive, this one touched me as well. Prose. 💛

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wow. That's really good.

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