Garrison Keillor

You've heard the voice. I know you have; that smooth, soothing, melodic baritone, waxing philosophic, or poetic or nostalgic - or all of the above - as the narrator of (and giver-of-life-to) A Prairie Home Companion. If not, then perhaps you've read his syndicated column (or his 77 Love Sonnets). If none of the above applies, then I'm afraid you, sir or madam, have truly missed out; there is a hole in your life you don't even realize exists! I implore you, find his column (in the editorial pages, for those of you who still read newspapers), find his books, or find A Prairie Home Companion somewhere on your radio dial (590 public radio stations carry the weekly broadcast), on the internet, or via podcast. Trust me, your life will be better for it. (Want to find out more? Go to http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/

People, Garrison Keillor is a national treasure. Yes, a walking, talking, wiser-than-most-of-us-could-ever-hope-to-be NATIONAL FREAKING TREASURE. And we nearly lost him recently - to a stroke. He's a national treasure, but he's human - and he ain't gettin' any younger. He's OK, thankfully, and brilliant as ever. So that's why I pay tribute to him here - while he's still very much vertical. He deserves to be recognized in the here-and-now, rather than the here-after.

There are those who might say Garrison is old-fashioned, or even out of touch, considering his wistful Lake Wobegon ways and references to bygone days, but trust me, this dude has it going on, and has for over three decades. Don't judge a book by its Lake Wobegon cover. Consider this excerpt from a recent Keillor column:

"The right believes that if you throw enough mud, some will stick, and if you characterize healthcare reform as an evil plot by one-eyed space aliens, you can defeat the thing. The fact is that there are 40 million uninsured Americans and soon, if nothing is done, there will be more. This is a moral dilemma, the same as if habeas corpus only applied east of the Mississippi or that green-eyed children will only be educated through the sixth grade. Not acceptable in the country I live in. And it's up to people who care about the common good not to be scared off.

The right is operating in the grand old irreverent American middle-finger spirit of contrarianism. The cars full of kids who drive country roads busting mailboxes with baseball bats are expressing the same freewheeling spirit, and the computer hackers, and graffiti artists, and every conscientious rock 'n' roll band for the past 50 years.

But the price of being an angry jerk is that nobody wants to invite you over for supper except your mother, and even she feels a little uneasy. . ." (copyright, Garrison Keillor, all rights reserved.)


Brother, that's good stuff! Eloquence need not be uppity. It doesn't require arcane, high-brow Dennis Miller-esque references that only a few people ever really get. We need more Garrison Keillors - people, who with wit and wisdom, evenhandedness, depth of knowledge and incredible, insightful, historical perspective, can declare that the emperor has no clothes and do it without sinking into the hateful, spiteful mosh pit of a monologue (Yes, monologue, because a dialogue requires two voices, and we seem to hear only one these days. You know the one, its full name is Seanglenn Rushann Limbaughcoulter-Hannitybeck) that has become the standard for those who lean to the right.

So, this day, I revel in the survival of our National Treasure, Garrison Keillor, and I raise a pint to his ongoing battle against the forces of ignorance (and clogging arteries), and his love of the Lake Wobegon life, where the fish are biting, "all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average." And that makes me think . . .

. . . I Wish I Was Fishing.