The story of my life, a brief version

My bio in 100 words is as follows: My parents were in love with each other, had six kids, I was third, an invisible child. I had no interest in crashing into people so didn’t play football or hockey and avoided brain damage. I dabbled in poetry and when I was 14, I read A.J. Liebling and decided to be a writer. I went into radio, which requires no special skill, and took the sunrise shift, which turned me toward comedy, listeners don’t want grievous introspective reflections at 5 a.m. I told stories for forty years and still do. I married well on the third try.

This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit garrisonkeillor.substack.com/subscribe

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:20):
The story of my life. A brief version. My bio
in one hundred words is as follows. My parents were
in love with each other, had six kids. I was third,
an invisible child. I had no interest in crashing into people,

(00:43):
so I didn't play football or hockey. I avoided brain damage.
I dabbled in poetry, and when I was fourteen, I
read aj Leebling and decided to be a writer to radio,
which requires no special skill, and I took the Sunrise shift,

(01:07):
which turned me toward comedy. Listeners don't want grievous introspective reflections.
At five a m. I told stories for forty years
and I still do and I'm married well on the
third try, and there you have it. Perseverance, not brilliance.

(01:32):
It's the key. I walk out on stage. The audience
assumes it's the janitor. I have no stage fright because
my vision is so poor. I don't notice them looking
at me. They pity that old man on stage. But
I'm holding a microphone, and that's the advantage. When I hum,

(01:55):
they hum with me, and we all sing. My country
tis of these sweetland of Liberty, and they're amazed by
how good it sounds. And the audience entertains itself. I'm
lucky when it comes right down to it. Last Monday,

(02:15):
after seeing my cardiologist, I stopped at an Italian cafe
for a big plate of sausage lasagna, and in my
fascination with a nearby conversation between several surgeons, I forgot
my hand corrected book manuscript on the table on the

(02:41):
east side of Manhattan. I discovered this when I got home,
three miles away. I had paid the cafe with cash,
I had no receipt. I couldn't remember the name. I
went to the east Side. I walked around. Nothing looked familiar.
I ran into a couple who knew me from my show,

(03:04):
and they looked up Italian cafes on their phone and
told me it was probably on First Avenue. I was
on third Avenue. So I walked over and recognized the
hot dog stand, the city bank, and there was the cafe.
I walked in. The matre d recognized me. He got

(03:30):
the manuscript out of his desk handed it to me.
I gave him a hundred bucks, and now I wish
I had given him three hundred What a cheapskate. As
we say, the Lord is good and his mercy, endureth forever.

(03:52):
Old age is turning out to be my favorite part
of life. I worked much too hard for my too long.
I was driven, and in the process I did a
whole series of dumb things that we needn't recount here.
I was lucky to live at a time when cardiology

(04:13):
came of age and they could sew up a leaky
valve like you'd fix an old shoe. At the doctor's Monday,
a young woman adjusted my heart monitored defibrillator, standing at
a computer at my elbow. She said, now I'm slowing
your heart, and she did. And then she said, now

(04:37):
I'm speeding up your heart, and she did that. I said,
many women have made my heart beat faster, and she
actually laughed at a joke she must have heard a
thousand times. That's a whole other miracle, the patience of
health care with patients. When I was twelve, I helped

(05:03):
my aunt Josephine slaughter chickens at her little farm. I
was sent with a wire hook fashioned from a clothes
hanger to chase chickens and snatched them by their ankles.
And I chased one into the garage and snatched her,
and then realized it was a chicken. I knew his chuck,

(05:27):
though she was a hen, a trans chicken. Perhaps she
squawked and flapped, and I didn't see how I could
participate in the killing of a chicken I knew personally
I had talked to, had named. But on the other hand,

(05:48):
if not her, it would be some other chicken. An
awesome power in my hand. I stroked her and she
calmed down. I decided it would be better for her
to go to the chopping block with someone who loved
her than with someone rough and cold, and so she

(06:13):
was delivered to the axe. She had enjoyed being fed,
and now she would become food, a sort of symmetry
to her life and aunt Josephine was a tremendous cook,
working at a wood burning stove, and her fried chicken

(06:35):
was memorable. Some day a boy with a coat hanger
will chase me around the yard and into a garage
and take me in his arms and calm me down.
I only wanted to be peaceful. I want to be

(06:55):
useful up to the very end and have all my wits,
but that, of course is for others to design. Thank
you for listening. It was my Pleasure December. We'll be
here before we know it, and so will a prairie
home companion, Christmas. Garrison Keiller and the Troop will make

(07:17):
stops in Saint Paul, New York, and Galveston, Texas. Gear
up for the season with songs, sketches, the news from
Lake Wobegon, and more. For details, click the events page
at Garrisonkeeler dot com.