Remember no man is a failure who has friends.
From the January 11, 1997 broadcast of A Prairie Home Companion:
Singing In The Snow
We’re singing in the snow, just singing in the snow
What a glorious feeling, it’s twenty below
There’s three feet of snow,
So lovely and white,
And the weatherman says,
We’ll get more tonight.
Some folks may head south
That’s fine, let ’em go,
But I’m singin’, still singing’ in the snow.
From Winnie The Pooh – A Very Merry Pooh Year
Snow, snow
On my eyes, my ears, my toes
I suppose
It even froze my nose
If you were listening in this past Saturday night to A Prairie Home Companion’s live broadcast from The Town Hall, West 43rd Street in New York City, you would have heard this:
Another fun evening spent with Garrison Keillor, this time with Edith and the kids. Elvis Costello was on the show. Elvis’ was the very first concert I ever attended back in April, 1979, and here I was 31 years later with Will and Katie, watching and listening to the very same Elvis perform.
Here is the whole show.
From The Writer’s Almanac:
Tonight is Midsummer Night’s Eve, also called St. John’s Eve. St. John is the patron saint of beekeepers. It’s a time when the hives are full of honey. The full moon that occurs this month was called the Mead Moon, because honey was fermented to make mead. That’s where the word “honeymoon” comes from, because it’s also a time for lovers. An old Swedish proverb says, “Midsummer Night is not long but it sets many cradles rocking.” Midsummer dew was said to have special healing powers. In Mexico, people decorate wells and fountains with flowers, candles, and paper garlands. They go out at midnight and bathe in the lakes and streams. Midsummer Eve is also known as Herb Evening. Legend says that this is the best night for gathering magical herbs. Supposedly, a special plant flowers only on this night, and the person who picks it can understand the language of the trees. Flowers were placed under a pillow with the hope of important dreams about future lovers.
I truly love this night, as it makes me want to revel and enjoy the warmth and relaxation of a summer evening. I always feel like something magical is just waiting to happen tonight, and that there really are fairies in my backyard dancing in the moonlight.
Just returned home from the Somerset County 4-H Fair out at North Branch Park in Branchburg. It was probably the best weather we’ve had for the fair in years, which explains why it was probably the most crowded fair we’ve attended in years, but it was also the muddiest fair in memory. The fair runs for three days, Wednesday through Friday, during the second week of August, and at this time of the year it’s not unusual to experience high humidity and isolated afternoon thunderstorms. A few storms were in the area on Wednesday and Thursday, but absolutely nothing today, hence the huge turnout, but even after getting caught at the fair last year in a torrential downpour, last year’s mud was miniscule by comparison to the mire we slogged through. Next year, I’m wearing my Wellies.
K. was excited to see some sheep up close and personal – at one point a sheep even licked her face – and W. had fun holding the baby ducks, chicks, and checking out the model train exhibits. Lots of beef cattle, dairy cattle, goats, llamas, alpacas, horses, dogs, poultry, rabbits, hamsters, civets, snakes, toads, lizards… radio controlled airplanes and race cars, huge tractors, diggers and front-end loaders on display and for the kids to try out… and a big food tent in the middle of it all. No rides or corn dogs, mind you, and it’s not quite the Midwest state fair, but it’s as close as we get in New Jersey.
By the way, the July 2009 National Geographic carries a pretty good piece by Garrison Keillor on the Midwest state fair, complete with some not-too-bad pictures. Check it out right here.
Anyway, now we’re all showered and cleaned-up, the kids are in bed, and it’s time to unwind. You can view the photos from the 4-H Fair over in the photo gallery.
From The Writer’s Almanac
Poem: “If You Are Reading This” by Lynn Levin, from Imaginarium. © Loonfeather Press, Bemidji, Minnesota. Reprinted with permission.
If You Are Reading This
GIRL WITH DOG IN RAIN! Sweetheart, where are you now?
Saw you at 16th and Walnut with your chocolate lab under an awning.
It was raining parking lights and car horns. I was the guy double-
parked delivering a tray of bagels to a corporate meeting. Nice stuff, 5
flavors, cream cheese and chives, butter daisies. Our eyes met, do you
remember? I can’t get you out of my mind. [Box 347]OLD LADY AT QUIK MART. When I weighed your peppers, you
said I had my thumb on the scale, then you called over the manager
who yelled at me and docked my pay. You: Old bag in a tan overcoat,
muffler, purple pocketbook, evil eye. Me: Goatee, geek glasses, facial
hardware. Please give me the opportunity to stab you. [Box 1601]CHAD, LET ME EXPLAIN. That guy you saw me with on R7
local on Columbus Day meant nothing to me. He’s just a commuter.
Your silent treatment is unbearable! I’m beggin’ you baby, come back!
[Box 776]PENN CENTER ELEVATORS FROM 16th TO 30th FLOOR. I
want to push your magic buttons. I want to draw Mona Lisas on your
beautiful skin. You: Backless red dress, black heels. Me: Bald guy, 35.
We rode up together, you got off at 19. I was too shy to talk to you.
Now full of regrets. How about sushi or tantric sex? [Box 1446]GUY ON R7 LOCAL OCT. 10, EVENING COMMUTE. You sat
next to me and suddenly it was Valentine’s Day. You liked my Offspring
button. I told you about med tech school. You let me take your pulse. It
was almost like holding hands. You: Hilfiger sweatshirt, laptop, got off
at Somerton. Me: Hip chick, red hair, Capri jeans. Let’s pick up where
we left off. [Box 777]YO! YOU THERE ON DEERPATH DR. I’m the telemarketer you
dissed. Wasn’t selling you anything, SOB, just giving you a free estimate
on kitchen cabinets. I know your number and where you live. Call now
to apologize. [Box 961]OFFICEMAX, FEASTERVILLE, YEAR AND A HALF AGO. You:
long black trenchcoat with three-piece suit. Me: Asian girl with black
jacket, wet curly hair, tight black pants, sunglasses on my head. You
stared at me a long time waiting at checkout. We looked at each other
as you walked out. Will renew until I find you. [Box 1674]
As you may have surmised, I am a big fan of The Writer’s Almanac. I love the written word (when well written) and my personal collection of books, while not as vast as my collection of music, numbers more than the average household. (In addition, I am also a big fan of Garrison Keillor, who reads The Writer’s Almanac daily for American Public Media on National Public Radio. I love Mr. Keillor’s deep rich voice, and I could listen to his stories about Lake Woebegon for hours, and I have, but I digress…)
I receive a daily email from The Writer’s Almanac, some of which have been referenced here over the past several months, which provides daily insight to literary related events in world history. Additionally, each day a poem is presented. On some days the poems move me beyond words, but I would venture that on most days I tend to skim over the poem to get to the ‘this day in history’ piece.
Today, the line about ’16th and Walnut’ caught my attention immediately, as it is, to anyone familiar with downtown Philadelphia, right in the heart of Center City. I made further connection with this poem when reading about the R7 (the SEPTA rail line from Trenton, NJ to Chestnut Hill East, which I used to sometimes ride, aside from the R3 line, when travelling into Philly by rail,) Penn Center, and Feasterville. It’s been a while since I’ve moved away from Philadelphia, and I rarely get the chance to visit anymore (I visit Manhattan much more… sigh) but reading this poem made me realize how much I miss the familiarity of my hometown.
From The Writer’s Almanac
It was on this day in 1974 that Richard M. Nixon resigned the office of the presidency, the first American president in history to do so. His policies as president had been rather liberal. He began arms control agreements with the Soviet Union. He eased relations with China. He established the Environmental Protection Agency, expanded Social Security and state welfare programs and tried to create a national health insurance system.
He won re-election in 1972 in a landslide, but in that same year a group of men broke into the Democratic Party headquarters at the Watergate Hotel, and in that break-in were the seeds of his downfall.
The title of this post is taken from Garrison Keillor’s Homegrown Democrat
There is no doubt that Richard Nixon was a deeply flawed individual, whose paranoia and distrust brought about his own downfall, but Watergate aside, his Presidency was one of significant accomplishment out of genuine concern for the well being of the American people, not corporate America.
View President Nixon’s resignation letter here.
Saturday, April 23, 2005, The Town Hall, NYC. Guests: Renée Fleming, Aly Bain and Phil Cunningham.
A fine show. We sat in the second row – spitting distance, literally, no more than 8 feet – from Phil and Aly as they performed, among other pieces, a very moving song, Johnny’s Tune, that Phil wrote for his deceased brother.
Renée Fleming? Yowza! So many zippers…
http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/programs/2005/04/23/
© 2025 This is walto.com
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
You must be logged in to post a comment.