Garrison:
What ever happened to "Jack's Auto Repair"? Did you
go out of business?
Thomas Quinn
Thomas, Jack's Auto Repair moved
out of Lake Wobegon due to Jack's antipathy to most of his clientele
who disapproved of his Vargas calendars and his playing Cannonball
Adderley albums so loud so late at night. And his White Owl cigars.
And his white shoes. He moved closer to Minneapolis, thinking
he'd get into the city often for dinner and dancing at Murray's,
but as a man gets older, his urge to dine late at night and dance
afterwards seems to diminish. So Jack has become a major TV viewer
instead, an aficionado of old movies, and he isn't much interested
in radio these days. He's become something of a recluse, holed
up in his back bedroom, propped up on pillows, tuned in to the
Film Noir festival, and getting more and more acerbic by the minute.
An feisty old man. We sort of miss him but not enough to want
to ask him back.
Dear Garrison,
Last Spring a group of friends and I graduated with degrees in
English. Since then, we have all gone our separate ways and set
out on different paths. I was fortunate enough to be the only
one to find employment in which I am able to read and write creatively
every day. In a few weeks, I'm going back home to visit. I'm afraid
that if I discuss my job with them, they might perceive it as
"bragging." What should I do?
Yours,
Holly
Holly, don't rush to tell them about your
job, and if asked, tell them that you doubt it'll last for more
than a few months. Invent some reasons why this may be true. Perhaps
the company is tottering on the verge, perhaps there is a weird
airborne virus, perhaps a mold you're allergic to. A high-pitched
hum that's driving you crazy. Find some way to make this terrific
piece of luck look like an attractive trap. I do this all the
time with my friends, complain about how busy I am with the radio
show, and my friends, who are starting to retire, say, "Why
not hang it up, Old Scout?" I tell them I can't afford to.
I hint at old gambling debts, blackmail payments, etc. In fact,
I'm as lucky as you, but I don't want this to become an irritant
to people I know.
My Dear Garrison:
I have all your books, audio tapes and videos. Will you ever consent
to writing your autobiography?
Joyce Burke
You're sweet to be curious, Joyce. I do
think I've had an interesting life, and suppose it could be told,
but I'm not sure what the motivation should be. To write history,
I suppose ---- to try to describe Anoka, Minnesota, in the Fifties
and the pleasant countryside of Brooklyn Park and my grandmother
Dora Powell and the amazement that was the University of Minnesota
in the Sixties ---- a hotbed of politics and theater and idealism
and literary ambition and upward-striving young Minnesotans. There
were veterans studying on the G.I. Bill and hundreds of Africans
and such a democratic spirit out to change the world and make
it hospitable to all of God's children, white and black, male
and female, gay and straight. I admire the ideals of the folks
I grew up with, my teachers and classmates, and don't find books
that describe them. And of course an autobiography would be a
chance to pay homage to all the people whom I owe my life to.
I just don't know that it'd be a good book, which, being 60, I
very much would want any book of mine to be. And it's hard to
think about writing about loved ones and friends and colleagues
----- what would be gained from this? And then there is the sheer
vanity to be stifled. And finally, at 60, I don't feel I have
time to waste in looking backward --- I want to push forward and
try to write a good novel and try to make something out of "A
Prairie Home Companion". I don't really have any secrets,
and if you and I were sitting in a dark corner and you asked me
something about my life I'd tell you as much as you wanted to
know. But putting it down on paper is a daunting idea. So I'll
postpone.
Garrison:
Has PHC abandoned the annual content for Talent from Towns under
Two Thousand? It was one of my favorites. If so, did you conclude
that you've exhausted the talent pool or did something more pedestrian
such as budget kill the concept?
David Williams
Little Rock, Arkansas
David, the Talent from Towns Under Two
Thousand is taking a breather while we try to figure out how to
do it. We want to put on an amateur contest and some years we've
succeeded but we felt the contest was starting to getting away
from us, and an element of ambitious professionalism was slipping
in, which isn't the spirit we're looking for. It's difficult to
separate one from the other ---- people making music for fun,
people with an eye toward the main chance ---- but I felt we needed
to preserve the difference. How to do it? I don't know. And then
there's the problem of child entrants: they always win. And then
there's the job of weeding out six contestants from a thousand
audition tapes, which is an arduous task for sensitive people
who hate to say No. But I really hope to bring back the contest
in some other form. It's a show that listeners seemed to like
a lot, because the talent was drawn from their ranks and had such
a sweet spirit about them. But doggone it, David, anytime you
put a 13-year-old girl singing "Somewhere Over The Rainbow"
in front of our audience, they're going to vote for her. It's
human nature. My latest idea is that we change it to a contest
for Family Talent. Musical groups of two or more people related
to each other.
Dear Mr. Keillor,
Whatever happened to the lost art of good old-fashioned courtesy?
Today, a sullen teenager blundered by me as I held the door for
his siblings and his mother. I was rewarded with a hostile glare
by Mom. From people shoving past me before I can get off the elevator,
to people giving me the one-finger salute in traffic after pulling
in front of ME, it seems no one has any regard for his or her
fellow human beings. Am I being paranoid, or is no one being taught
any inkling of courtesy anymore?
Thank You Kindly,
Sam
Sam, rudeness has many roots, and shyness
is one ---- people can be so self-conscious they neglect to extend
courtesy, they look at their shoes and blunder through like that
teenager ---- and then too the pace of life has picked up, and
people seem more driven, less likely to pause for the niceties.
Ten years ago, Minnesotans were fairly polite on the highway and
would yield to each other and show consideration, and now -----
it's a jungle out there. A sad fact. My own people, in the safety
of their vehicles, have turned into monsters.
Garrison:
We are sick of the leftist crap...Do the music, tell the stories
and stay away from politics. Maybe if your buddy
Hillary runs for President, you could get a job
with her and her Hollywood Commie Bastards...Emptying
the trash or something! Enough already!! We won't
be attending your show when we're in Minneapolis
visiting our daughter. To hell with you!
Tom and Maxine Nelson
Tom and Maxine, you are two of my favorite
people and I love getting letters from you. I'm sorry you missed
the show in which I announced that I've become a Republican. I
trust your daughter is happy and well and please enjoy Minnesota
in the summer.
Dear Mr. Keillor,
Not to sound glib, but what is the meaning of life?
Sincerely,
Aaron Lehde
Aaron, the meaning of life is life itself:
to live, to enjoy all the big experiences and the little ones
too, to arise every day with good humor and hope and kindness
in your heart and to go do your work, to love your people, to
survive your own foolishness and stubborn pride, to tell stories,
to teach your children, and then, when death knocks on the door,
to go with grace and dignity.
Dear Mr. Keillor,
On the radio, why do you always begin the Writer's Almanac with
the
words, "...AND here is the Writer's Almanac for..."?
What are you talking about before you give us your almanac? Can
it be
heard on another program? I am presuming that you are talking
to someone about some other matter, and then MPR simply edits
out your previous conversation.
Love,
Jurgen Vsych
Jurgen, "The Writers Almanac"
is a tiny show and I assume that it's preceded by some other little
thing such as the weather forecast or the basketball scores, and
so I say "And" in order to put it in context. I don't
know. It just feels comfortable to say that. "Here is the
Writer's Almanac" sounds presumptuous to me. The "And"
softens it a little.
Dear Mr. Keillor,
My husband and I have decided to move. We currently reside in
the deepest of the Deep South, and our respective "hometowns"
are not an option. I really like Minnesota, or at least I have
during visits (including winter visits). He has never visited
the state, and is convinced we'll all freeze to death. Any advice?
Thank you,
Stacee
Stacee, don't move to Minnesota unless
your good husband has signed off on the decision. Bring him up
for a test run in September, which is a golden month, and let
him see it at its loveliest, and show him around St. Paul, a very
seductive city. Take him for a walk along Goodrich Avenue or around
St. Anthony Park or Cherokee Heights or Desnoyer Park. Visit the
Minneapolis Institute of Arts and go to a play at Mixed Blood
or Jeune Lune or the Children's Theater and catch a St. Paul Chamber
Orchestra concert. A movie at the Uptown in Minneapolis. Music
at the Cedar Cultural Center or the Dakota Bar & Grill. And
get in a car and drive down the Mississippi River valley through
Red Wing and Winona, or head up north to Sauk Centre and Fergus
Falls and Moorhead and take a look at the prairie, which is the
really magnificent scenery. There's a good life here for you,
I'm sure, and if you want to meet people, you'll have to take
the initiative: Minnesotans tend to be clannish. Of course you'll
need good jobs to make the move, and if you find really good ones,
then winters are more than bearable. It's work that gets us through.
You can soften winter a little by living in an apartment in a
high-rise and planning a February escape, but the real answer
is to dress warmly: lightweight thermal clothing has taken a huge
weight off our shoulders and changed the winter experience completely.
It's actually a rather festive, busy, productive time. And conducive
to sensuous pleasure, if you want to know the truth. You're brave
people to make such a decision, and if you move to Minnesota,
I hope we're worthy of you.
