Las Vegas, NV
May 20, 2020
Garrison Keillor hits Las Vegas with a new solo show!
April 18, 2020
Garrison Keillor comes to the Rochester Civic Theatre for a night of stories, songs, poetry, and humor. Tickets $50 and up
February 19, 2020
Garrison Keillor with Heather Masse at the Dakota. Night 2 of 2. Tickets $30+
February 18, 2020
Garrison Keillor with Heather Masse at the Dakota. Night 1 of 2. Tickets $30+
The quarantine goes at a crawl
And I miss eating out and baseball
But life is fine
As we sing “Ninety-nine
Bottles of Beer on the Wall.”
A peaceful day Sunday, almost warm. Maia got fancied up and Jenny took a video of her dancing with me and making a grand entrance in a ball gown. No Prom this year so a teacher is making a Prom video. The girl is busy on Facetime rehearsing a play with her friends. My novel has been printed out so I can make pencil corrections. I believe I’ll make my deadline in two weeks. Today we give up our semi-vegan diet— what’s the point? — and cook a pot roast. Life is good with spring on the way. People are dying but friends on the phone are very funny, almost giddy. Maybe we’re going batty. Back in my 50s I was more anxious about life and following the warnings. “Do not touch when hot.” “Sharp: may cut skin if pressure is applied. “Open with an extreme sense of foreboding.” Fearsome books about worst-case scenarios. Every week some ordinary thing was found to have bad consequences. You Google “may be fatal” and it finds 23,457,863 sites in .85 of a second, including stoop tag and Girl Scout cookies. You do a search on “therapy” and find Wounded Sons of Emotionally Distant Fathers and Anger Anonymous, for parents who have yelled at their children and Men Coming to Terms with Their Urge To Exercise Regularly.
A person is tempted to be troubled, depressed, consider the worst, and yet the quarantine feels rather restful, like the Fifties. I come from fundamentalist people who taught me to avoid the things of this world, movies, card games, drink, dancing, worldly pleasures, worldly talk. We were quarantining ourselves years ago and nobody noticed it. The habit sticks with you. I want to do wicked things but I don’t have the aptitude. This makes me think that after the lockdown ends, it will keep on keeping on. Tonight we’ll have pot roast, which Jenny hasn’t fixed in ages and my mother served every Sunday. For amusement, I do what I’ve done since I was 13 — I make up stories. Solomon said, “That which has been is that which shall be. There is nothing new under the sun.” I get a lot of pleasure out of talking on the telephone to people I’ve known for ages. We do this out of civic duty but maybe I’m entering a graceful old age and maybe I’ll go straight from the quarantine to the Home for Aged Radio Hosts. Back to the novel now. Improve the day.