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Post to the HostComments from the Week of 01.22.23
This week’s posts include the fascinating news that ketchup was once sold as a health tonic (“ketchup pills will cure your ills”) recommended by doctors as a cure for indigestion, and a fine reminiscence of Minnesota snowstorms, and a reflection on the joy of riding a bicycle on lightly traveled roads, and a note that I’m doing a show in Fort Lauderdale on Ash Wednesday and should people bring ashes, and an endorsement of the worth of majoring in drama — that it teaches you “how to create (and finish) difficult projects with too little time and almost no money and how to get along with other people and how to face rejection and keep going” — and also a number of posts defending Texas. I had mentioned in a column that I planned never to visit the Republic of Texas and readers sprang to disagree with me. Someone quoted a Yankee named S.C. Gwynne, who wrote: : “When we moved to Texas, my wife and I never expected to find, nestled among the clichés, stereotypes, and sweeping mischaracterizations about our new state, good old-fashioned friendliness. People being nice, courteous, and helpful when they didn’t have to be. People acting in a spirit of generosity and decency. Texas, to our surprise, turned out to be by far the friendliest place we had ever experienced. Nothing was even a close second. When we first arrived, moving to Austin from New York City nearly three decades ago, we were often not sure what we were looking at. After we had crossed the Arkansas border and were pushing through East Texas, we noticed something very strange. Cars in front of us on two-lane state highways kept pulling over onto the shoulder and driving slowly. Lots of them. After the tenth time it happened, we realized: They were just being nice. They were letting us pass. We found this same spirit all over the state. I am a Connecticut Yankee — pretty much everything Texans should hate. I compound that sin by being a reporter, cold-calling people who frequently don’t want to talk to me, nosing into their business and speaking in a voice that drips with Eastern boarding school, the Ivy League, and summers on Cape Cod. But I have never, in a long career as a journalist, been treated as politely and considerately as I have in Texas — by secretaries, switchboard operators, CEOs, felons, ranchers, shrimp boat owners, and candidates for office. They do something very odd here: They give you the benefit of the doubt.” Garrison, Hearing you announce you’ll never return to Texas grieved me deeply. You and I sang “Abilene” a cappella a dozen years ago at my alma mater. Perry Flippin Women there in Abilene don’t treat you mean, I guess, but what I said about Texas comes down to “It’s a foolish goose who attends the foxes’ church.” I’ve done shows in Indiana and Ohio and Tennessee where there were plenty of “Trump In 2024” bumper stickers and the crowd was wonderful, but Texas strikes me as hostile territory and I am a natural coward. I want to live to be 90, maybe 95, and that means not taking the chances one would’ve taken in his 20s and 30s. GK Hello, Mr. Keillor! I read that you’re looking for younger friends and my invitation from several months ago to attend one of my Candlelight Dinner Society dinners with your wife still stands. I am located in Spokane, Washington, a bit far from you, but I promise the trip will be worth it! I’m currently rehearsing for a play (an all-female version of Lord of the Flies), so I probably won’t have a Candlelight Dinner until March. Here’s hoping this 36-year-old millennial can entice you and your wife into a friendship. All the best, Spokane, Washington We’re mostly over on the right coast, leading fairly small lives between the Upper West Side of Manhattan and rural Connecticut where my wife is renovating a little summer house that her great-grandfather built along the Connecticut River. I fly off and do shows — Kansas City, Omaha, Fargo, Sioux Falls, coming up soon, and some in Colorado — but mostly I sit at a screen and type, as I am doing now. A candlelight dinner sounds formal, as if I’d need to rustle up my old tuxedo and my white shirt with French cuffs. What would we talk about? What would appeal to me is your extensive knowledge of something I am abysmally ignorant of. Thoughts? GK Garrison, Your comments on cursing in today’s column remind me of Mark Twain’s observation that, “There is a relief to be found in cursing that is denied even unto prayer.” Of course, he also advised us to “Cultivate your vices. You never know when you might have to bargain with the Almighty and will need some ballast to throw overboard.” Regarding your comments on the stupid bank robber, I believe that it was Albert Einstein that said, “The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits.” Stay warm, Coleman Thanks, especially for the Einstein. I didn’t know he was a humorist. GK "With fame I become more and more stupid, which of course is a very common phenomenon." — Albert Einstein 1919 letter to physiology professor Heinrich Zangger THE HOLLAND THEATRE in Bellefontaine, OH Friday, February 3rd Garrison Keillor and Company (Prudence Johnson, Dan Chouinard and Dean Magraw) You’re on the free list for Garrison Keillor and Friends. 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