GK, granted that too many of today's politicians have become profit and power suck-ups, how about offering some encouragement to our younger generations to believe in and model politics as an admirable profession grounded in true public service to provide the best for the commonweal? Perhaps we really do get the government we deserve.
Mr. Keillor-- I recently wrote you, defending the elegant pasttime of birdwatching, but now I write to let you know how your reference to Lyle Bradley made me smile. His name is still on my bulletin board as someone to contact and interview regarding T. S. Roberts. Bradley had Roberts for Ornithology at the U of M. I never got around to interviewing him. Perhaps I was given the name too late, and. the book had already gone to press. But Mr. Bradley had a first-class bird education from Roberts and I am sure he was a legendary teacher. Lucky you, I'm quite envious-- though when I think about it now, my ecology professor from Gustavus was also a Roberts student. The man's reach was long. That's all! Sue Leaf
I write poetry too and enjoyed your poem this week but don't you think you could have left off the final line? It seems like a non-sequitur to me. However, please don't imagine I think you should stop writing poetry. I especially love your unlikely rhymes.
When I was a kid I wanted to be a baseball player. I practiced really hard, but I never made the high school team and I was horrible in the intramural league. The only records I would shatter would be the number of times I struck out or pitched a pretty imperfect game.
Then when in my teens, my musical abilities came to be and I thought it would be great to be a full-time musician, become a rock star and make millions. For me it was about the money and the travel, who cares about fame? Fame doesn't pay the bills or put toys in the garage. I've written hundreds of songs and released my own CD 9 years ago, it went nowhere. Then I soon realized that the market was flooded with a gigs-a-million other nincompoops who had the same big hair brained idea, and once again I learned I was not nearly as good as some of the other guys and gals. I needed to be gooder. And even now at 63, I'm waiting for gooder to arrive but I fear the rock star tour bus has long departed.
As a young artist, I realized that I enjoyed the daily comics so much that I wanted to make a living doing it. I created cartoon after cartoon, created 4 different cartoon strips, shopped them to all the syndicate's. I got call backs, I got requests for more artwork...... I got told there are thousands upon thousands of other cartoonists trying to do the same thing and we're going to go with this guy who did a cartoon strip about a cat, dog and squirrel that share an apartment in Miami. Your strip isn't quite that unique. Ugh.
Then one day I realized I had a penchant for writing and more importantly, I liked doing it. Crafting witty stories and brilliant dialog that would make the likes of my literary hero Douglas Adams proud. Not to worry Mr. Keillor, you are running a very close second. I crafted 4 screenplays that went nowhere, I've written one book that has yet to be published, I've started 4 others and am currently working on another. Am I doing this for my own amusement, I wonder?
During all this silliness I also started a podcast about motorcycles and I make no money doing it but I do it because it is fun and I've been told enough times that I have a great voice and face for radio. The podcast is approaching its 7th year and has over 300 shows and it sits in good company of thousands of other Don Imus and Howard Stern wannabe's. Is my show as good as those others, not really, but who cares. My show is different and it entertains and that's all my thousand-ish fans want. But I am the only podcast that has a listener in the South Sandwich Islands. Be unique.... I think I can check that off and while I'm at it. Take that Joe Rogan.
So instead of being successful in a career that I would have loved or liked, I have opted instead to get into a field that I have grown to loath, like dry socks that suddenly become wet when your dog slobbers on the floor or when you pay a bill only to realize you've already paid it and now you bank account is smaller than it should be. Plodding along in a career that one hates for over 30 years to pay the bills was the accompanying scenario to: "Oh so you're a musician/writer/artist/baseball player.... what's your backup plan?"
The backup plan.
So, like you, I continue to be unique in what I do, whatever it is. Be different, if not for fame or money, be different so that your family and friends are justified in their "Oh, that explains it" comment. As I explain to my bride, I will not be able to retire since the cost of living has kept an even pace with my salary and I should be working up to lunchtime on the day of my funeral, where I will not be buried in a fine suit but rather set ablaze in my best ratty old jeans and Harley-Davidson t-shirt.
Go forth and dance your soft shoe, you're allowed.
GK, I cracked up and identified with your wife in an aside you made in one of your recent columns. You said that after you load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, she rearranges them. I'm guilty of that too. And proud of it. Mind you, this is a real thing, not just a little difference of opinion among loaders of dishwashers. It's a source of distress: just ask couples therapists. Or people who work together in an office and have to deal with these matters. In fact, there was a New Yorker story from a few years back in which the writer, a male, was annoyed because after he threw the garlic press into the dishwasher, his wife made him use toothpicks to pick out and scrape off the dried garlic bits that were annealed by the heat of the drying cycle into the perforated inside of the press.
Some people just throw the dishes in any which way; others I know (not mentioning any names here) load an item, curved side down, on top of another item, also curved side down. People! All you have to do is use your eyes to see that the dirty inside of the top item is going to be missed by the water spray. We who know these things are emphatic that there is a proper way to assemble dirty dishes in the dishwasher, so we stoically go behind you and rearrange. I sometimes wonder whether disorganized dishwasher loaders are deploying a secret strategy to avoid the task of loading the dishwasher altogether. After a point, they can get away with throwing up their hands, giving the side eye and walking away with just putting the dishes in the sink.
Yours for clean dishes and harmonious relationships,
Some of my young relatives have mentioned the possibility of going into politics when they get out of school. I very much advise against it for the simple reason that they are not adept at lying. That seems to be the first qualification for a career in politics these days. It is all about fund raising. Say anything to get someone to send in a buck. Or get on television and sell opinions and books.
John F. Kennedy and others talked about public service and doing good serving the public good.
But anyone that tried that nowadays would be setting him/herself up for failure and heart ache. Don't do it.
The best poem in the English language is "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost and it should get a prize. See why I don't like many of these prizes in literature or music. The question of which is the best book, or the best poem, is largely a matter of opinion. Often the prizes just reflect the tastes or biases of the people handing out the prize.
I am suspicious of people -- authors, musicians, poets, etc. -- who have large followings. A large following implies that lots of people (as in mass market) like what the author or musician does.
People are always talking about a book being on the NYT best sellers list. In my experience, most of the books on that list are a waste of time to read. In order to appeal to a mass market, they have to be dumbed down and homogenized.
At any rate, enjoyed the column, Garrison, and best wishes to one and all.
Having read a few of your more biographical books, I doubt if your success/ lack-luster performance in many of your high school classes made much of a difference!
In our high school class, we had a math genius, Peter N., who began going to math and engineering classes part time in tenth grade at our local university. Not surprisingly, he entered Harvard as a sophomore the fall that he graduated high school. He had a powerful urge for math.
It seems to me that Our Dear Host has had a powerful language/writing urge from early on, as well. To think of someone so motivated to write that he would go to a local newspaper and get a position covering local sports while he was still a Sophomore! ["Wise Fool" Greek!] No Fool at all!
In the past, I was wildly envious of folks like Peter who knew who they were and landed, feet on the ground and running toward their life's work from an early age. When I was a graduate student in genetics, I read that it was possible to develop strains of laboratory mice that acted as "adults" while most mice would be doing immature mousy things. It could be that there's some genetic background among the Keillor clan that helps you folks "find yourselves" while the rest of us are worried about pimples and partners for high school dances.
Still, in my imagination, I like to envision a high school sophomore up in the broadcasters' booth, hanging around with men in their twenties to forties, and considering himself as "One of the Guys." I wouldn't be surprised if having those "adult experiences" gave you a significant advantage when it came to moving out speedily into the world of radio broadcasting! You could say "I got some breaks along the way," and it's probable that you did. But, I wouldn't be surprised if you made most of those breaks yourself, because of the drive that was inside you!
I note that in your column you write that you sang the Nathional Anthem with a crowd in Carrolton, Ga., with great enthusiam. I hope you (and they) sang more that just the first verse, which ends in a question mark. I've often thought that if only the first verse is sang, the word "say" should be changed to "yes." John Webster, Rogers, Ark.
Let everybody in so we can reason all together what is wrong with the other half (of the world)... As Bush used to say "[the country] is big..." Thank you GKeillor!
Poetry prizes! Please do go on about this and the other trends of contemporary poetry that at best mystify this senior citizen poet and at worst make me feel ready for the pasture.
GK, granted that too many of today's politicians have become profit and power suck-ups, how about offering some encouragement to our younger generations to believe in and model politics as an admirable profession grounded in true public service to provide the best for the commonweal? Perhaps we really do get the government we deserve.
Mr. Keillor-- I recently wrote you, defending the elegant pasttime of birdwatching, but now I write to let you know how your reference to Lyle Bradley made me smile. His name is still on my bulletin board as someone to contact and interview regarding T. S. Roberts. Bradley had Roberts for Ornithology at the U of M. I never got around to interviewing him. Perhaps I was given the name too late, and. the book had already gone to press. But Mr. Bradley had a first-class bird education from Roberts and I am sure he was a legendary teacher. Lucky you, I'm quite envious-- though when I think about it now, my ecology professor from Gustavus was also a Roberts student. The man's reach was long. That's all! Sue Leaf
Garrison, glad you agree on the management of Las Vegas.
Dear Garrison,
I write poetry too and enjoyed your poem this week but don't you think you could have left off the final line? It seems like a non-sequitur to me. However, please don't imagine I think you should stop writing poetry. I especially love your unlikely rhymes.
Susan Shields
When I was a kid I wanted to be a baseball player. I practiced really hard, but I never made the high school team and I was horrible in the intramural league. The only records I would shatter would be the number of times I struck out or pitched a pretty imperfect game.
Then when in my teens, my musical abilities came to be and I thought it would be great to be a full-time musician, become a rock star and make millions. For me it was about the money and the travel, who cares about fame? Fame doesn't pay the bills or put toys in the garage. I've written hundreds of songs and released my own CD 9 years ago, it went nowhere. Then I soon realized that the market was flooded with a gigs-a-million other nincompoops who had the same big hair brained idea, and once again I learned I was not nearly as good as some of the other guys and gals. I needed to be gooder. And even now at 63, I'm waiting for gooder to arrive but I fear the rock star tour bus has long departed.
As a young artist, I realized that I enjoyed the daily comics so much that I wanted to make a living doing it. I created cartoon after cartoon, created 4 different cartoon strips, shopped them to all the syndicate's. I got call backs, I got requests for more artwork...... I got told there are thousands upon thousands of other cartoonists trying to do the same thing and we're going to go with this guy who did a cartoon strip about a cat, dog and squirrel that share an apartment in Miami. Your strip isn't quite that unique. Ugh.
Then one day I realized I had a penchant for writing and more importantly, I liked doing it. Crafting witty stories and brilliant dialog that would make the likes of my literary hero Douglas Adams proud. Not to worry Mr. Keillor, you are running a very close second. I crafted 4 screenplays that went nowhere, I've written one book that has yet to be published, I've started 4 others and am currently working on another. Am I doing this for my own amusement, I wonder?
During all this silliness I also started a podcast about motorcycles and I make no money doing it but I do it because it is fun and I've been told enough times that I have a great voice and face for radio. The podcast is approaching its 7th year and has over 300 shows and it sits in good company of thousands of other Don Imus and Howard Stern wannabe's. Is my show as good as those others, not really, but who cares. My show is different and it entertains and that's all my thousand-ish fans want. But I am the only podcast that has a listener in the South Sandwich Islands. Be unique.... I think I can check that off and while I'm at it. Take that Joe Rogan.
So instead of being successful in a career that I would have loved or liked, I have opted instead to get into a field that I have grown to loath, like dry socks that suddenly become wet when your dog slobbers on the floor or when you pay a bill only to realize you've already paid it and now you bank account is smaller than it should be. Plodding along in a career that one hates for over 30 years to pay the bills was the accompanying scenario to: "Oh so you're a musician/writer/artist/baseball player.... what's your backup plan?"
The backup plan.
So, like you, I continue to be unique in what I do, whatever it is. Be different, if not for fame or money, be different so that your family and friends are justified in their "Oh, that explains it" comment. As I explain to my bride, I will not be able to retire since the cost of living has kept an even pace with my salary and I should be working up to lunchtime on the day of my funeral, where I will not be buried in a fine suit but rather set ablaze in my best ratty old jeans and Harley-Davidson t-shirt.
Go forth and dance your soft shoe, you're allowed.
I wrote my own little ditty for geezers called SUCK IT UP. I will admit that much of it is autobiographical. Think calypso rhythm.
Suck it up suck it up
Geezerhood is rough
Beats dying most the time
Get down n’ drink some wine
Suck it up suck it up
Mirror mirror on the wall
My boobs in free fall
Pants up to my pits
Love handles doin flips
Should I laugh or bawl
Got belly fat to loose
Can’t see or touch my shoes
My pipes almost gone
Not feeling very strong
And I’m down to five foot two
I get the posture talk
‘Bout the way I walk
Lopsided gait
Can’t stand up straight
Honey it’s not my fault
My hearing kind of sucks
Why do folks yell at me so much
Can’t see too well at night
Do I go left or right
Forget which end is up
I peed to often Day n’ night
So got my prostate sliced
Cum don’t come out any more
Sure lot neater than before
But no loss in appetite.
Suck it up suck it up
Geezerhood is rough
Beats dying most the time
Go drink a sh-t load of wine n’
Suck it up suck it up
Cha cha cha
GK, I cracked up and identified with your wife in an aside you made in one of your recent columns. You said that after you load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, she rearranges them. I'm guilty of that too. And proud of it. Mind you, this is a real thing, not just a little difference of opinion among loaders of dishwashers. It's a source of distress: just ask couples therapists. Or people who work together in an office and have to deal with these matters. In fact, there was a New Yorker story from a few years back in which the writer, a male, was annoyed because after he threw the garlic press into the dishwasher, his wife made him use toothpicks to pick out and scrape off the dried garlic bits that were annealed by the heat of the drying cycle into the perforated inside of the press.
Some people just throw the dishes in any which way; others I know (not mentioning any names here) load an item, curved side down, on top of another item, also curved side down. People! All you have to do is use your eyes to see that the dirty inside of the top item is going to be missed by the water spray. We who know these things are emphatic that there is a proper way to assemble dirty dishes in the dishwasher, so we stoically go behind you and rearrange. I sometimes wonder whether disorganized dishwasher loaders are deploying a secret strategy to avoid the task of loading the dishwasher altogether. After a point, they can get away with throwing up their hands, giving the side eye and walking away with just putting the dishes in the sink.
Yours for clean dishes and harmonious relationships,
Some of my young relatives have mentioned the possibility of going into politics when they get out of school. I very much advise against it for the simple reason that they are not adept at lying. That seems to be the first qualification for a career in politics these days. It is all about fund raising. Say anything to get someone to send in a buck. Or get on television and sell opinions and books.
John F. Kennedy and others talked about public service and doing good serving the public good.
But anyone that tried that nowadays would be setting him/herself up for failure and heart ache. Don't do it.
The best poem in the English language is "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost and it should get a prize. See why I don't like many of these prizes in literature or music. The question of which is the best book, or the best poem, is largely a matter of opinion. Often the prizes just reflect the tastes or biases of the people handing out the prize.
I am suspicious of people -- authors, musicians, poets, etc. -- who have large followings. A large following implies that lots of people (as in mass market) like what the author or musician does.
People are always talking about a book being on the NYT best sellers list. In my experience, most of the books on that list are a waste of time to read. In order to appeal to a mass market, they have to be dumbed down and homogenized.
At any rate, enjoyed the column, Garrison, and best wishes to one and all.
Agreed on the whole lot. Great piece.
Having read a few of your more biographical books, I doubt if your success/ lack-luster performance in many of your high school classes made much of a difference!
In our high school class, we had a math genius, Peter N., who began going to math and engineering classes part time in tenth grade at our local university. Not surprisingly, he entered Harvard as a sophomore the fall that he graduated high school. He had a powerful urge for math.
It seems to me that Our Dear Host has had a powerful language/writing urge from early on, as well. To think of someone so motivated to write that he would go to a local newspaper and get a position covering local sports while he was still a Sophomore! ["Wise Fool" Greek!] No Fool at all!
In the past, I was wildly envious of folks like Peter who knew who they were and landed, feet on the ground and running toward their life's work from an early age. When I was a graduate student in genetics, I read that it was possible to develop strains of laboratory mice that acted as "adults" while most mice would be doing immature mousy things. It could be that there's some genetic background among the Keillor clan that helps you folks "find yourselves" while the rest of us are worried about pimples and partners for high school dances.
Still, in my imagination, I like to envision a high school sophomore up in the broadcasters' booth, hanging around with men in their twenties to forties, and considering himself as "One of the Guys." I wouldn't be surprised if having those "adult experiences" gave you a significant advantage when it came to moving out speedily into the world of radio broadcasting! You could say "I got some breaks along the way," and it's probable that you did. But, I wouldn't be surprised if you made most of those breaks yourself, because of the drive that was inside you!
You may have lost a step- but you are still way ahead of most of us.
I note that in your column you write that you sang the Nathional Anthem with a crowd in Carrolton, Ga., with great enthusiam. I hope you (and they) sang more that just the first verse, which ends in a question mark. I've often thought that if only the first verse is sang, the word "say" should be changed to "yes." John Webster, Rogers, Ark.
Let everybody in so we can reason all together what is wrong with the other half (of the world)... As Bush used to say "[the country] is big..." Thank you GKeillor!
Poetry prizes! Please do go on about this and the other trends of contemporary poetry that at best mystify this senior citizen poet and at worst make me feel ready for the pasture.