Prairie Home

One of my classmates mentioned Garrison Keillor the other day, and I couldn't help but feel much closer to Mr. Keillor these days. (I also confess that half of the people we were chatting with didn't know who he was and I suddenly felt like a 54 year old savings and loan officer at the local credit union who also volunteers to help people register to vote). I've had a long history with Garrison Keillor. During my late teens and early twenties I was an avid Prairie Home Companion listener. Every Sunday at noon during college, I could turn on NPR and he was there, singing a little off key and telling me stories. He was part of my sabbath. As the years went by, I listened to the show less and less, but could still hum along to Ketchup and the Powdered Milk Biscuit song. Then about 5 or 6 years ago, I realized that sometimes it was actually kind of annoying. All of the weird skits and sound effects, and loud nose breathing in a microphone started to drive me crazy. However, since moving to Michigan, I feel a kindredness with Mr. Keillor and the stories he tells about how cold it is in the Midwest. Because I too, live that cold. I find myself wanting to listen to the show more these days because there is a camaraderie I feel with him, and everyone in his audience in Beautiful Saint Paul. I have a greater understanding for butterscotch pudding and the humor that is evident here, which oftentimes didn't make sense to me in Seattle. Maybe by this time next year I'll be able to call myself a true Midwesterner.