The Wake

As I sat silently in my seat, poring over my Spanish flash cards, I took a moment to peep around my surroundings. It was Monday, Oct. 9, and I was in the Coffman Bookstore, awaiting the arrival of heralded author, renowned radio personality, master storyteller and (as of most recently) international movie star, Garrison Keillor.

There were representatives from most age groups present; however, those on the wrong side of 50 greatly outnumbered those of us on the right. Small smatterings of college students were seen here and there. There was a group of freshmen in front of me, discussing the new Michel Gondry movie. To my right was a fellow in his fourth year studying a bit of Arabic and in the very front I spied a wide eyed freshman who could be found minutes later sitting so close to the edge of his seat, it’s a wonder he was able to stay on. The rest of the crowd consisted of turtle-necked moms and dads, husbands looking awkward in collared shirts their wives had clearly forced them into, and (my personal favorite) women wearing standard old lady sweaters with some sort of animal or plant life print on it.

The lack of youths in attendance leads me to this assumption: I’m not alone in my minimal exposure when it comes to Garrison Keillor and his works. There are likely hoards of young Minnesotans out there, who, like me, know only of him as that voice we heard on the occasional Saturday evening when our parents were listening to the radio. I’m glad I had the chance to have my perceptions of him changed. After attending the book discussion for his newest work, Homegrown Democrat: A Few Plain Thoughts from the Heart of America, I see the man in a whole new light.

From the moment he appeared he had my complete attention. Aside from his telling facial expressions, sideways glances, and the occasional goofy bit of posturing, the reason is evident. It’s that voice. I would believe anything James Earl Jones ever told me, I think nearly everything Christopher Walken says is hilarious, and I believe that Morgan Freeman could answer any question I would ever confront him with, all because of their distinctive voices. For this same reason, I could not stop listening to Garrison Keillor, even for a moment. He’s got one of those rare, definite and truly powerful voices. This is something I’d sort of already known, but to experience it in person is to be converted into a fan.

Another revelation, which I’m quite late in uncovering, is that Garrison Keillor is a funny, funny man. For the first of 45 minutes of his talk, he failed to mention his new book even once, electing instead to do what came across to me as a bit of stand-up comedy. Keillor tore down the house. He reps Midwestern democrats and Norwegians in the same way that Dave Chappelle does African-Americans. They both make observations and social commentaries through the eyes of their respective communities, and put their own personal styles and mannerisms on them, which their audiences absorb. They both also touch on some of the same topics, like the criminalization of smokers and the war in Iraq. When I took some time to read his new book, I enjoyed it immensely. It was a great read! Keillor dishes out series of rants and raves, limericks and alliterations, and the most creative disses since rap music started to suck.

I enjoyed learning about his past. He talked in person, and in his new book, about his years here at the U of M. He told stories of eagerly departing his childhood home of Anoka, his start in radio as a freshman (a situation in which he broadcast the whole year on a station which wasn’t even on air), the frat boys on University Avenue and their pajama parties, and getting to hear John F. Kennedy, Jr. speak. I was able to relate to what he was talking about, despite the fact he was here in the early ’60s.

It’s in this way that he helps to bridge the gap between us and our elders. In the first chapter of his new book he talks about being proud to be from the state, “… that produced Fitzgerald and the Mayo Clinic and Lindbergh, and Sinclair Lewis and Hubert Humphrey.” These words, which bring about such unwavering home-state pride in those of his same generation, might not have the same impact on us. But if I were to speak of my sources of pride, I’m sure the reverse would be true. Names like Atmosphere, Mitch Hedberg, Mason Jennings, or Nick Swardson wouldn’t do much for them either. Keillor is like a Prince or a Bob Dylan, someone we can all appreciate. He’s like the Twins, or hating Iowa and North Dakota, or putting ketchup on everything. He’s a Minnesotan, he’s damn funny, and at the end of the day, that’s something we can all hang our (winter) hats on.