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+
Who knows what the future will bring?
Will we rise? Will we fall? Will we swing?
Whatever our fate,
Let us sing as we wait,
“I’ve got the world on a string,
Sitting on a rainbow,” sang Frank.
I’m in luck, I got love in the bank.
I’m in the right place,
The wind in my face,
And plenty of gas in the tank.
Another sunny day. The mockingbirds seem to be making a home in the vines on the wall of our terrace. Two red finches too and maybe a couple of bluejays. We don’t put out birdseed for fear of attracting pigeons who tend to be bullies. Anyway, there’s plenty of food around. The novel is racing along and every morning I’m awakened around 5 a.m. by new ideas — this morning, I awoke thinking that a Norwegian bachelor farmer in Lake Wobegon is struck by a cow’s tail during milking and there’s fresh manure on the tail and in that minute he decides to sell the farm and go for an ocean cruise and he makes a life out of that, Mediterranean, Baltic, Pacific, Caribbean. Brilliant idea. I plan to finish it in three weeks. When you’re 77, you don’t take long views. Writer’s block is for kids in their twenties — I’ll be blocked when I die and that’s soon enough. I grew up on 77th Avenue North in Minneapolis so this is a magical year for me. Maybe it’s the end of my writing career and now I’ll get into yoga and baking and take ballroom dancing lessons. The pandemic has been good. I don’t kill time, I don’t watch movies or read books to keep busy. I love the sameness of the days. Up for morning prayer and to write a limerick and post a journal. Maia awakens and comes in and has breakfast, then calls her friend in London. I write. There is the beautiful moment when Jenny steps into the room and we embrace. There is a nap. We have dinner and hold hands and say table grace, something we never did regularly before but quarantine needs rituals and prayer is a good one. Also the 7 p.m. neighborhood racket, everyone sticking their heads out and whooping and clapping. I go to bed early. In this strange new life, my dream life has come to life, long elaborate dreams. Last night, J and I, along with our friends Jon and Marcia, went to a mysterious stone castle which turned out to be a prison and there I was reunited with a son I didn’t know I had, a teenage boy, very quiet, fearful, hesitant to leave the institution, and he and I walked together and then we threw a ball back and forth, and that pleased him. And now I shall get back to work.