What so many love about you, Mr. Keillor, if I may say, is not just your creative genius but your honesty and forthrightness in a world of fakes, frauds, phonies and sickening narcissists.
It always amazed me (and probably many others) that you could put together one great Prairie Home Companion show after another, week upon week, year after year.
You will stay "Forever Young" for us, your ardent admirers. Always.
I will cherish this as I go to the opthalmiic surgeon to have my drooping left eyelid adjusted. My prostate is still in good shape as a digital exam (not by me) has shown recently and I got to look at the screen during my echocardiogram and watch my mitral valve (donated by a young pig) working beautifully.
Stacy and I had a standard Garrison Keillor Date every Saturday evening for the decade between 1980 and when he went off the air in 2016-Together or our apart, inside or outside, at home, in the car, or in a hotel, with or with out kids. Our date was on. Our kids knew the Prairie Home Companion radio show was our Saturday nights' entertainment, a loved steady date, and the date would not easily be broken; we listened, laughed, cried, found much to be grateful for while listening to the adventures of Lake Wobegon and so much more with Garrison Keillor, at the end each of our weeks. Garrison Keillor, Thank YOU for 36 years of cheap, fabulous, weekly dates and three life-shows; our marriage held steady with our weekly counseling sessions at your feet. Sweet, wonderful memories.
"a kiss is still a kiss; the fundamental thing apply, as time goes by..."
You can't improve on the fundamentals. It may take a few times to realize that. But, in the end, they hold true. I just hope I can figure that out in my lifetime. You seem to have in yours. Thank you for pointing out the veracity of this old chestnut.
I don't know what parts of this is true and what parts of this you made up, but that's probably what I love best about it. I hope that the boy with the coat hanger is irresponsible, and neglects his chores, and never comes for you at all. I hope that you live longer than Methuselah with your wits and good humor and laptop and get translated into Glory intact, still writing, but then suddenly changed into your Heavenly body when you see our Savior with all our loved ones who have gone before us.
I know this is not an advice column, but beleive it or not, I have gotten some good advice from both you and your peanut gallery here.
My family has a bad habit. Senior members slowly die, get mean, nasty and dangerous, and then leave the family in shambles. It has been terrifying to watch the destruction and I do not want to repeat it.
I have two questions. How will you know when to call it quits? Second, how do you keep the mean and nasty out of your personality as you get older when this seems to be how things progress naturally? I think I kind of know your answer to the second question as you focus on the positive and you also practice letting go. But I would be interested in your thoughts.
I do not think this is an exaggeration, but thanks for enriching my life.
For now you and I and Joe Biden are part of the cohort of 81 year old gentlemen, until you and Joe move on to car 82 on the age train and leave me behind for a few months. I love that you are sharing your adventures, misadventures and musings with us with self- deprecating humor along the way. As far as I can tell, humor and honesty are essential at our age. Along with faith and love.
I added a cardiologist to my team a couple years back but so far pills have lowered my risk of calamity. Vision and hearing deficits risk rendering me senseless. And watching my beloved wife slip steadily into dementia is a daily reminder of uncertainty and powerlessness. Yet, like you, I do not despair. Just to still be alive is a glorious grace with daily doses of beauty, kindness, laughter, tenderness, friendship and pleasure. Life is so mixed and so full.
Joe was not at his best in last night’s “debate” with that cruel, unscrupulous, narcissist who is fighting for his life, impervious to truth, and willing to say and do anything to stay out of jail, country he dammed. Two old men duking it out and the bully/cheater had the upper hand. Here’s an old man without humor or honesty or kindness. What a sad and terrible way to age!
I couldn’t find my wallet last week after a shopping trip. I’m always missing something these days. Scoured our home multiple times. Called places I’d used my credit card earlier but to no avail. It was here in the apartment of course, and it was my wife, the woman fully aware of her cognitive decline, who found it. It made her day and we both had a loud laugh over it. She turned 80 yesterday.
You are no chicken awaiting the guillotine, Sir. But we all do go one way or another. A few years younger than you, at 4 or so I watched my grandpa cut off the head of one of our chickens. He ran around the backyard until he was out of blood and he keeled over, ready for plucking and the evening supper.
There are many ways to go, and for many years the disagreeables also had their heads cut off. Way back,so did St. Paul the Epistle Writer and proselytizer. He lost his head in Rome, where St. Peter was crucified upside down, not being worthy of the standard crucifixion of his Master, Jesus.
You seek to have led a good life sir, as nearly as I know, finally finding a woman of your own loving and equally loved. One don't just find those commitments very often anymore. In fact there's little commitment at all. But, God bless you, you are our pied-piper singer and story-teller from near Lake WoeBeGone, chock-full of well-told stories, and before we know it, some cardio nurse's tweak no longer works for us.
No, it won't be the same without you anymore, but there are your kept-stories of humor and song. It's enough for many, sans our heads. There are other tellers to sing and tell, but none like you, no matter....
Good morning, Garrison. So glad you found the manuscript, it worried me that it was lost for a while. I too chassed chickens, caught them and did the dastardly deed of ending the life of a living thing. Then finished the job of dressing, or maybe undressing them and on to locker plant where they got frozen and waited for a future Sunday dinner. Oh, we turned off the TV last evening after the third questing, couldn't take any more. rr
I am not the boy with the coat hanger hook but maybe instead of writing a new novel or script for another show which you’re very successful doing here are some other endeavors you could explore:
Embrace new challenges: Instead of relying on past successes, you could explore unfamiliar creative territories or learn new skills.
Deepen community engagement: While you enjoy performing, you could focus on mentoring young artists or supporting local cultural initiatives.
Cultivate personal relationships: Rather than seeking public affirmation, you could prioritize meaningful connections with family, friends, and fellow artists.
Pursue personal growth: You could dedicate time to self-reflection, meditation, or exploring new philosophies to gain fresh perspectives on life.
Give back: You could use his platform and resources to support causes you're passionate about, making a lasting impact beyond your artistic legacy.
By shifting focus from public appreciation to personal fulfillment and positive impact, you can continue to make your life remarkable in ways that transcend your artistic achievements
Wonderful column, again! I helped raise the chickens that my mother would dispatch with an axe. One of my favorites ended up in the freezer, too. This is why I became a vegetarian in 1978, as soon as I was on my own and could eat whatever I wished (or, more appropriately, NOT eat whatever - or whomever, in this case). I still keep hens for eggs, but am also running an old age home for chickens. The eldest resident, Buttercup, is eight years old and going through chicken menopause, which is making her hormones all wonky, so she sort of is a trans chicken: Sometimes she crows like a rooster, but she still lays two eggs weekly. I'm hoping if the boy with the coat hanger ever comes for you, he turns out to be a vegetarian. You are a good man, Mr. Keillor.
I do not understand. This story has been around since 5:01 a.m. local, and only has 60 hearts. What gives, Substack readers? Do we not know where to find good writing that has nothing to do with politics, senility, lies, or (human) death? Or do we know, and just want to read all that crap?
We, greatful fans are probably the older generation and possibly many readers don't express their approval online as much as the young ones. But yes, The Writer's Almanac and Garrison's letter are the first things I read in the morning.
"I went to the East Side, walked around, nothing looked familiar." In my town there's only one real restaurant. And if you left something there with your name on it someone would show up at your door. Hey wait sounds like one of your monologues : )
Your stories always bring pleasure
What so many love about you, Mr. Keillor, if I may say, is not just your creative genius but your honesty and forthrightness in a world of fakes, frauds, phonies and sickening narcissists.
It always amazed me (and probably many others) that you could put together one great Prairie Home Companion show after another, week upon week, year after year.
You will stay "Forever Young" for us, your ardent admirers. Always.
I will cherish this as I go to the opthalmiic surgeon to have my drooping left eyelid adjusted. My prostate is still in good shape as a digital exam (not by me) has shown recently and I got to look at the screen during my echocardiogram and watch my mitral valve (donated by a young pig) working beautifully.
Why did reading your missive this morning choke me up? I don't know.
A few tears fell.
I really am happy for you
Stacy and I had a standard Garrison Keillor Date every Saturday evening for the decade between 1980 and when he went off the air in 2016-Together or our apart, inside or outside, at home, in the car, or in a hotel, with or with out kids. Our date was on. Our kids knew the Prairie Home Companion radio show was our Saturday nights' entertainment, a loved steady date, and the date would not easily be broken; we listened, laughed, cried, found much to be grateful for while listening to the adventures of Lake Wobegon and so much more with Garrison Keillor, at the end each of our weeks. Garrison Keillor, Thank YOU for 36 years of cheap, fabulous, weekly dates and three life-shows; our marriage held steady with our weekly counseling sessions at your feet. Sweet, wonderful memories.
👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽❤️🙏🏽❤️👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽‼️
That was a good one...along with so many others.
"a kiss is still a kiss; the fundamental thing apply, as time goes by..."
You can't improve on the fundamentals. It may take a few times to realize that. But, in the end, they hold true. I just hope I can figure that out in my lifetime. You seem to have in yours. Thank you for pointing out the veracity of this old chestnut.
I don't know what parts of this is true and what parts of this you made up, but that's probably what I love best about it. I hope that the boy with the coat hanger is irresponsible, and neglects his chores, and never comes for you at all. I hope that you live longer than Methuselah with your wits and good humor and laptop and get translated into Glory intact, still writing, but then suddenly changed into your Heavenly body when you see our Savior with all our loved ones who have gone before us.
Today you post this? Serendipity.
Garrison,
Another deeply touching piece. Thanks.
I know this is not an advice column, but beleive it or not, I have gotten some good advice from both you and your peanut gallery here.
My family has a bad habit. Senior members slowly die, get mean, nasty and dangerous, and then leave the family in shambles. It has been terrifying to watch the destruction and I do not want to repeat it.
I have two questions. How will you know when to call it quits? Second, how do you keep the mean and nasty out of your personality as you get older when this seems to be how things progress naturally? I think I kind of know your answer to the second question as you focus on the positive and you also practice letting go. But I would be interested in your thoughts.
I do not think this is an exaggeration, but thanks for enriching my life.
For now you and I and Joe Biden are part of the cohort of 81 year old gentlemen, until you and Joe move on to car 82 on the age train and leave me behind for a few months. I love that you are sharing your adventures, misadventures and musings with us with self- deprecating humor along the way. As far as I can tell, humor and honesty are essential at our age. Along with faith and love.
I added a cardiologist to my team a couple years back but so far pills have lowered my risk of calamity. Vision and hearing deficits risk rendering me senseless. And watching my beloved wife slip steadily into dementia is a daily reminder of uncertainty and powerlessness. Yet, like you, I do not despair. Just to still be alive is a glorious grace with daily doses of beauty, kindness, laughter, tenderness, friendship and pleasure. Life is so mixed and so full.
Joe was not at his best in last night’s “debate” with that cruel, unscrupulous, narcissist who is fighting for his life, impervious to truth, and willing to say and do anything to stay out of jail, country he dammed. Two old men duking it out and the bully/cheater had the upper hand. Here’s an old man without humor or honesty or kindness. What a sad and terrible way to age!
I couldn’t find my wallet last week after a shopping trip. I’m always missing something these days. Scoured our home multiple times. Called places I’d used my credit card earlier but to no avail. It was here in the apartment of course, and it was my wife, the woman fully aware of her cognitive decline, who found it. It made her day and we both had a loud laugh over it. She turned 80 yesterday.
You are no chicken awaiting the guillotine, Sir. But we all do go one way or another. A few years younger than you, at 4 or so I watched my grandpa cut off the head of one of our chickens. He ran around the backyard until he was out of blood and he keeled over, ready for plucking and the evening supper.
There are many ways to go, and for many years the disagreeables also had their heads cut off. Way back,so did St. Paul the Epistle Writer and proselytizer. He lost his head in Rome, where St. Peter was crucified upside down, not being worthy of the standard crucifixion of his Master, Jesus.
You seek to have led a good life sir, as nearly as I know, finally finding a woman of your own loving and equally loved. One don't just find those commitments very often anymore. In fact there's little commitment at all. But, God bless you, you are our pied-piper singer and story-teller from near Lake WoeBeGone, chock-full of well-told stories, and before we know it, some cardio nurse's tweak no longer works for us.
No, it won't be the same without you anymore, but there are your kept-stories of humor and song. It's enough for many, sans our heads. There are other tellers to sing and tell, but none like you, no matter....
Good morning, Garrison. So glad you found the manuscript, it worried me that it was lost for a while. I too chassed chickens, caught them and did the dastardly deed of ending the life of a living thing. Then finished the job of dressing, or maybe undressing them and on to locker plant where they got frozen and waited for a future Sunday dinner. Oh, we turned off the TV last evening after the third questing, couldn't take any more. rr
Your stories always make me smile. Thank you kind sir~
I am not the boy with the coat hanger hook but maybe instead of writing a new novel or script for another show which you’re very successful doing here are some other endeavors you could explore:
Embrace new challenges: Instead of relying on past successes, you could explore unfamiliar creative territories or learn new skills.
Deepen community engagement: While you enjoy performing, you could focus on mentoring young artists or supporting local cultural initiatives.
Cultivate personal relationships: Rather than seeking public affirmation, you could prioritize meaningful connections with family, friends, and fellow artists.
Pursue personal growth: You could dedicate time to self-reflection, meditation, or exploring new philosophies to gain fresh perspectives on life.
Give back: You could use his platform and resources to support causes you're passionate about, making a lasting impact beyond your artistic legacy.
By shifting focus from public appreciation to personal fulfillment and positive impact, you can continue to make your life remarkable in ways that transcend your artistic achievements
Wonderful column, again! I helped raise the chickens that my mother would dispatch with an axe. One of my favorites ended up in the freezer, too. This is why I became a vegetarian in 1978, as soon as I was on my own and could eat whatever I wished (or, more appropriately, NOT eat whatever - or whomever, in this case). I still keep hens for eggs, but am also running an old age home for chickens. The eldest resident, Buttercup, is eight years old and going through chicken menopause, which is making her hormones all wonky, so she sort of is a trans chicken: Sometimes she crows like a rooster, but she still lays two eggs weekly. I'm hoping if the boy with the coat hanger ever comes for you, he turns out to be a vegetarian. You are a good man, Mr. Keillor.
I do not understand. This story has been around since 5:01 a.m. local, and only has 60 hearts. What gives, Substack readers? Do we not know where to find good writing that has nothing to do with politics, senility, lies, or (human) death? Or do we know, and just want to read all that crap?
We, greatful fans are probably the older generation and possibly many readers don't express their approval online as much as the young ones. But yes, The Writer's Almanac and Garrison's letter are the first things I read in the morning.
Alas, I think your reference about the age reference is correct.
"I went to the East Side, walked around, nothing looked familiar." In my town there's only one real restaurant. And if you left something there with your name on it someone would show up at your door. Hey wait sounds like one of your monologues : )