(CHOPIN PIANO)


Sue Scott: What's your plan for today?


Garrison Keillor: I don't know. What do you want to do?


SS: I thought we could go for a drive...go out to Stillwater...visit an orchard...have lunch...you want to do that?


GK: I don't know.


SS: What's on your mind? You seem so distant...
(BRIDGE)


GK: It's fall, the leaves are on the ground, and so what's on your mind of course is death and you think about your memorial service you want and what people will say about you. What you wish they'd say about you is...


Tom Keith: Look, he's moving! His eyes are opening!


GK: Or at the least you'd like a mysterious woman in a black mantilla to throw herself at your coffin, weeping. (SS ELABORATE WEEPING IN ITALIAN)


GK: But what if you've been sick for a long time and by the time you expire, they've sort of forgotten about you.

(PHONE RING)


Tim Russell: Hello? Yes...Who? ...Huh. I thought he'd died a long time ago. ---Well, I'll be darned.


GK: And your grandson Butch decides to have the memorial service at a mega-mortuary in the suburbs, called WalMort, a big barn of a place divided by plastic room dividers, and the music is recorded...


Rich Dworsky (SINGS): Like a bridge over troubled waters, I will lay me down...like a bridge over troubled waters...I will-- bridge over troubled waters...I will-- bridge over troubled waters...I will-- bridge over troubled waters...I will-- ...


GK: Attendance is not that good. Twenty-four people. (ELDERLY SHUFFLING IN) You've had more than that at your house for Thanksgiving. Where are they? Your friends? Your co-workers? The people on your Christmas card list? And who is this woman standing up to speak?


SS: He was the sort of person you only meet once in your life, a man who more than anyone else inspired me to go on and accomplish what I have done. People sometimes tell me, "It's unbelievable that someone as young as yourself could have attained the heights that you have" but then I think of him and of his faith in me, and now that he's gone, this modest modest little man with the funny hair and the odd shoes, and that little habit of picking earwax out of his ears and rolling it into balls -- now that he's gone, wherever I go in the world -- last week to Hong Kong, tomorrow to Paris, next week to Brazil and Australia -- I shall always think of him and how much he taught me -- above all, to believe in yourself. Oh, I do, Carson. Thanks to you, I do.


GK: Where's the weeping? Who are these people? Seventy-eight years you lived and this is all you have to show for it?


TR: Carson Wyler was the person who pushed me and that year I spent selling popcorn at his radio show was the year that turned me around and taught me the lessons that I later applied as vice-president for marketing at Gopher Cesspool Excavation & Maintenance.


GK: You don't want this. You want to be beloved.


GK: You want people to care about who you were. And you discover that they only looked at you and saw themselves.


TK: I was Carson Wyler's sound-effects man for thirty-some years and he taught me the importance of getting the details right. Accuracy. So important. The sound of a caribou, for example (CARIBOU) -- is not the same as the sound of an elk (ELK) -- you hear the difference? He taught me how important it is to get it right. Caribou. (CARIBOU) And elk. (ELK) Thanks, Carson. Hard to express in words what you did for radio, so I'll just express it the best way I know how. (CARIBOU)
GK: Someone has sprayed room freshener around and the minister is an old guy in a suit two sizes too small who mispronounces your name...


TR (MINISTER): Truly this is a sad day for Carson Weeler's friends, a day of saying goodbye, but for Carson Weeler, this is a joyous day. A day when the corruptible puts on the incorruptible. (A DEEP CROUPY COUGH AND LIQUIDY THROAT CLEAR) Excuse me. Let us turn to the epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians...(FADE) Chapter 11...


GK: The flowers look like people paid half-price. And who's the couple in the jeans and sweatshirts who come up to sing? And why this song? (GUITAR STRUMMING)


Shawn Colvin & GK:
On the wings of a snow-white dove
He sends His pure sweet love
A sign from above
On the wings of a dove.


GK: Who picked this song? Who picked the terrible picture of you in the little booklet? And who invited your cleaning lady to come and say a few words.


SS (DEEP): Yes, he certainly had his faults. He left a mess in the kitchen like you wouldn't believe and he was a little tight around Christmas, but he was okay. I'll say this: he used a wastebasket, which is more than you can say for some people, and right up until the end, when it came to using the toilet, his aim was pretty good. Pretty darn good.


GK: What you'd like is for your body to be put in the nose cone of a rocket and (ROCKET BLAST) sent out into space...(SPACE CHORDS DRIFTING)...or wrapped in a canvas bag and slipped over the stern of a battleship...(FIRST NOTES OF TAPS, SLIDE, SPLASH) ...or maybe be embalmed in a seated position and put right here at the kitchen table...


SS: What's on your mind anyway? Something wrong? Cat get your tongue? Hello----


SC & GK: On the wings of a large gray goose
He sets your spirit loose
He will introduce
You to Hera and Zeus.


SS: You want to go to Stillwater? We could eat at that little place down by the river. Remember? Where we went with Dave and Jodie? Near the bookstore? Are you listening?


SC & GK:
On the wings of a chickadee
He sets your spirit free.
For eternity
You'll be glad as can be.


SS: Or we could go to a movie. And then to dinner. Any movies you want to see? There's a Meryl Streep movie out. I hear it's really good. Not the one with what's-his-name-- that's a real downer -- the one about the fashion editor. You want to go?


SC & GK:
On the wings of an albatross
He takes our souls across
And comforts our loss
With horseradish sauce.


SS: If you want to stay home, I'll go by myself. It's okay. I'll be back in a few hours. If Mother calls, tell her I'll come by tomorrow. If you think of it, could you put the recycling out by the curb? Okay?


SC & GK:
On the wings of a great white swan
We rise to meet the dawn
Then we will be gone
To the beauty salon.


SS: I saw in the paper that that writer died. You remember him. The one who wrote those stories-- you know. He was from here. I think. Somewhere around here. What was his name?


SC & GK:
On the wings of a great horned owl
We will join other fowl
Let the timberwolves howl
We'll throw in the towel.