Needing company for my 2 plus hour drive to Sacramento on Friday night and back again on Saturday, I grabbed an old CD collection of Garrison Keillor’s Lake Wobegon Stories. I had been a pretty faithful fan up until his retirement and was not about to renounce him when what seemed like an innocent transgression was treated like Harvey Weinstein’s flagrant abuse. People, we really need to be able to discern degrees, levels, intentions and so on.
But the point here is that listening to him again evoke his portraits of Lake Wobegon, they held up. He is a consummate story teller, deep philosopher, wonderful humorist, poetic speaker, dramatic narrator and all of that is artfully woven together in each 15- minute gem of a story. How I wish I could be half so good telling stories here!
My “quiet week in Lake Wobegon” is filled with happy and sad little bits and pieces of the human comedy and drama, but the time it would take to put it all together in a coherent narrative and of course, some talent that I’m not convinced I have. But a few notable events in the last couple of days that could be a future short story:
• For the first time ever, I left my house Friday night without my wallet and didn’t discover it until I was two hours from home. What?!! And of course, had to drive home the next night without my wallet. Luckily no police stopped me.
• My beloved Clay Theater, one of only three single-screen theaters left in San Francisco, closed yesterday. Now there are two.
• Papyrus Stationary store is closing soon. Haight Ashbury Music Center has two more days. Isn’t Amazon wonderful?
• Today I went through a stop sign and was halfway through a red light on my way to smash a car before I realized it. Maybe too engrossed in Garrison’s story telling? Thank you, angels watching over me.
• I gave a talk at my school to interested parents about my book and also previous books, all of which are praising the school. 5 people came. It was a great talk.
• Tonight I’ll give a talk to Orff teachers nationwide online. Last time, there were over a hundred.
• Now I have to walk to the bank. Garrison Keillor, if you’re reading this, you’ll either be pleased that you have no competition whatsoever or depressed that I have the nerve to waste electrons on such a poorly told story. Let me know. J