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+
A writer got locked in Manhattan
And hard was the chair that he sat in
As he wrote fiction,
Prayed for benediction —
Light up your pipe and stuff that in —
It is a comic romance,
Graceful as a tap dance,
And you’ll laugh until
Your coffee you spill
All down the front of your pants.
For the first time in a long time, I have a great deal of time, and I am truly grateful. Up at 6 a.m. and the day stretches ahead. The pandemic has given me something new — the 45-minute phone call. I call up friends who live alone and they launch into ambitious monologues that go on and on and I put the phone on Speaker so if they say something I might put in the novel, I can write it down, but mostly I just listen. Sometimes I do my exercises listening to them. Cousin Elizabeth told me a story about a canoe trip down the Flambeau River on which she and others almost drowned. It was a novel in itself and she is a person who pays close attention to detail. She speaks in complete paragraphs. Her last line was, “God does not come to help us on account of goodness but on the basis of need.” Fascinating. For years I talked to people on the radio and now it’s their turn.
In this sequestered life, the imagination roams freely. Maia is busy with her friends on Facetime and Zoom, locked in her bedroom, laughing, and Jenny is running our lives and reading books and watching movies, and I migrate from kitchen to living room and back, working away. We sit in the kitchen and observe two men who live together in an apartment opposite us, facing the air shaft, who go around all day in white underpants. Why? This is our big question. Where are their pants? We speculate about them and a few other interesting people who leave their shades open and do odd things. We’re not proud of our voyeurism but not ashamed of it either.
An old friend read the memoir and said he thought I was too self-deprecating and that I should take out the chapter entitled “Disasters,” but of course I can’t. Another old friend is reading it and says she loves my aunts and uncles, which pleases me. They were separatists and avoided non-believers and so they didn’t give many people the opportunity to love them. A few weeks ago, I thought the memoir was finished and now I feel it needs another couple months of intense work. So we may extend our quarantine beyond the rest of you. The Minnesota State Fair, an annual staple in my life, has been cancelled and I’ve seen enough Fairs that I can skip one. No plans to travel until I get booked to come do a show. Time to cogitate and get to know my family.
Stay off the Flambeau River today, please. Be well, do good work, etc. Love your life.