Dear Garrison,
Whatever became of the PHC European Tour? In times past, the highlight of the social calender for those of us on this side of the Atlantic was a visit from our friends from Minnesota. But lately we feel abandoned. You have not come to visit. We feel like we sat all day in the rain waiting for you, and you did not arrive. Will you ever come back to see us?
Ian Peattie
Edinburgh
My dear Ian,
We've come to Edinburgh so often in the past that we feared exhausting your hospitality. There are limits after all. It's a handsome city, and the thought of going there is pure pleasure—flying into Heathrow and taking the Flying Scotsman north through Yorkshire, my father's ancestors' land, and into Scotland, my mother's parents' country, and climbing into a majestic cab and riding up the hill to St. George's Hotel and going to a cash machine (a big pleasure for an American) and putting in an American cash card and getting out a little wad of Scottish money! Miraculous! — But in this business, you seek to avoid wearing out the audience. Everyone's act is of limited appeal. So, rather than risk yawns in Edinburgh, among Scots whose approval we desperately crave, we have trotted the act around to the provinces, Chicago, L.A., Washington, New York, trying to learn new embellishments, and when we've poked up our confidence, we'll return to Scotland and try to sneak one past you again.
Dear Garrison:
I suffer from a blank notebook/book/pen fetish. All over my apartment there are books and notebooks strewn about and I can't walk out of The Strand without dropping at least $50. This is bad for several reasons. I move around a lot. When I moved to London I could only take three suitcases, two of which were crammed with books and journals and a shoebox of pens. Having such a large percentage of my luggage taken up with books/stationary made it difficult once winter came and I needed sweaters. And I simply lack the space to store all this stuff. I'm 27—I'm moving to New Zealand soon. So what do I do? Should I sell all my books on ebay and pay back my student loans and then buy more when I have a house and room for a library? Or do I keep collecting them and just deal with the fact that I'm never going to be the kind of girl who can fit her life in a backpack?
Heather A. Buettner
New York, NY
Heather,
I'm happy to meet someone at last who shares my secret predilections. What you describe is all very familiar to me. If I see a stationery store, my heart jumps, and when I go in and see a whole counter of pens, I am helpless to resist. I buy about a dozen, or two. I love Pilot pens and the Sanford Uni-Ball and have tried various German and Japanese things, though I consider the Mont Blanc to be an obscene rip-off.
I also buy books, steadily, more than I can read, and when I stroll into a bookstore, particularly one of those independent ones that's run by people who share my tastes, it's hard to get out with less than a shopping bag full. And now that I'm rediscovering the pleasures of writing in longhand, I'm stocking up on legal pads, and various other paper supplies ... hmmm, graph paper, maybe this could give me a stronger sense of structure.
What to do? Well, don't strain your back, my dear. A person can handle only so much luggage. If you love to buy books, then you should also learn to love to give away books. But if you are actually using the pens to write on the paper, then buying them isn't a fetish. It's simply the sensible pleasure of writing, including the sensuous feel of a lovely pen in the hand and the point against the paper. A person can take a lifetime of pleasure in this. You pick up a sheet of handsome paper and your favorite pen and pick up a book to use for a writing desk and hold it on your knees and proceed to improve the page with a few paragraphs and thus you leave your mark. A noble enterprise, nothing to be sheepish about.
Mr. Keillor,
Have you ever considered starting a book club like Oprah has? I'm always looking for enjoyable stories about engaging, quirky characters living in pleasant, though not necessarily predictable or interesting, lives. For some reason you come to mind as someone who could make some fine recommendations on a regular basis.
Steve McMaster
Steve,
I haven't considered it. I'm considering it right now at this very instant, and I'm weighing all the work involved—the hours of reading—against the time I have available, and I'm deciding not to.
Dear Mr. Keillor,
Are there any great women humorists? There's one female humorist, now deceased, whose writings I enjoy, but I find her humor has not worn well with age. Maybe it's just me. Anyway, any ideas?
Marilyn Mitchell
Marilyn,
Of course there are. Cynthia Heimel comes to mind right away, and Nora Ephron, and Erma Bombeck. And Dave Barry, whose real name is Evelyn Traub. The words "great" and "humorist" don't sit comfortably together, though, and we in the biz shrink at the thought. If someone refers to you as a "great humorist," he's probably about to give you an honorary degree and drop a hood over your head and shoot you. The greatest humorist is my wife who does more with silence and long searching looks than one can do in English prose.
Dear Garrison:
After pursuing other professions to the point of midlife, I would like to write
some, and I think I have a number of worthy ideas. But I don't know which type of book to start first or whether I should start them simultaneously. Also I don't know whether to start each from the beginning or to write individual chapters as they come out of me. What do you do and what do you suggest for others?
Erstwhile Writer
Dear Erst,
Wat I do is muddle around in unremitting chaos and confusion until some shape suggests itself and then, after enormous expense of time and effort, I dispose of most of what I've done and strike out in the direction of land, or what appears to be land, but which may be only a dead walrus floating among the ice floes. What I suggest for others is that they take up golf and enjoy themselves. Golf is a beautiful game, and when I see large men in bright pants striding along the dew-bedecked fairway on a summer morn, I think, "There are some novelists who came to their senses."
Garrison:
I was wondering if you ever considered compiling a collection of your "English Major" bits. I love them. They are brilliant. In fact, I, too, am an English major currently expanding my repertoire of life experience and material in my current profession as a childcare worker/secretary. Only until I complete my novel, screenplay, and anthology of humorous anecdotes extracted from the drudgery of daily life, of course.
Lisa Robertson
Lubbock, Texas
Hey Lisa, the world has enough collections right now and doesn't need that one. If you like, we can collect all the English Major stuff and put it on the Web site and you can scroll through and read it for free. One good reason not to put it in a book is that you'd peruse them and think, "Hmmm, they're not as brilliant as I thought." Radio gives the illusion of brilliance, and that's one more good reason to go into it. Whenever I start to think I'm brilliant, I go back to work on my screenplay. Good luck on yours and enjoy those children.
Dear Garrison,
How closely do the characters in Lake Wobegon Summer 1956 resemble the people you actually grew up around?
Thank you,
Susan Kenstler
Susan, I don't want to make life any more difficult for the people I grew up with than it already is. Those people are in their 60s now, and becoming fragile and saggy and weary, and the last thing they need is for their old author pal to finger them as the kid who laughed until tapioca came out of his nose. That kid is now a grandpa. So is the kid who taught me the 10 varieties of farts. He is retired and has grandkids and a wall full of plaques for various things and should not have to be reminded of his wayward youth. I grew up with boys who all were humorists and gradually the others have gotten out of the business. I ain't telling you nuthin, copper.
Whatever happened to Prudence Johnson? Her rendition of "I Cover the Waterfront" on PHC was one of the most memorable musical performances on radio, in my
opinion. As a friend of mine remarked, "she has a voice like a saxophone." And,
as you remarked, her singing could make grown men pull their cars over to the
curb to sit and listen.
J. McFadden
Overland Park, Kansas
Dear J.,
Prudence has had a fine career, recorded some terrific albums, including one of Greg Brown songs, did some time in Nashville, came back to Minnesota, and from what I hear, is still singing great and following her own artistic beam wherever it leads. She could do you an hour of Ellington and then an hour of Hank Williams and come back with an hour of lullabies. She covers the waterfront.
Dear Garrison:
Are you considering making peace with any former Minnesota governors? Is it possible an appearance on the show would soften Jesse Ventura's heart and amuse the audience? Whenever I look at the man I think there is a sketch comedian waiting to burst through his skin.
Bill Colley
Marcellus, New York
Bill, whenever I look at the governor I think that he is just about to hit somebody with a folding chair. The comedians I know are pretty genial guys and Jesse is famous around Minnesota for being up-tight about the smallest things. If we invited him on the show, we'd have to meet with his staff to discuss where he'd park his Porsche, who'd park next to him, who would be allowed to stand near him in the wings, and what color gels would be on his spotlight. It would wear us out.
Garrison:
I am just wondering, as I was browsing your Web site, that you have NO CANADIAN
DATES listed, and I believe that you should think about adding a few CANADIAN
dates to your upcoming tours. Is this possible?
Shawn
Dear Shawn,
I am fond of Canada in principle, admire your health care system and so forth, and my father's family came from there, but ... the last time we did a show there, in Vancouver, getting through Canadian customs was exquisite torture. An officious young Canadian woman took me into a small room and questioned me for 20 minutes about my intentions—the papers were all in order, the CBC was our sponsor, it couldn't have been more legit—and if her purpose was to exercise a little hostility toward Yankees, well, she succeeded.
I realize that American customs can be petty and mean-spirited, too, but it occurred to me that maybe I didn't have to do that again. And the little exit fee you have to pay at the Vancouver airport was a sour experience, too. And then a few months ago, we submitted an hour-long version of A Prairie Home Companion to the CBC, which they declined. Not because they didn't like it, not because they had no room for it, nor because they couldn't afford it, but because it was too American. That really burned my toast. That is stupidity on a scale I'm not used to dealing with. That is invincible stupidity. So I don't think the show is going to head north. We'll happily go to Germany, Ireland, Scotland, Switzerland, France, Norway, any place there's an audience, and think fond thoughts of our neighbor to the north.
