Garrison Keillor interview 2-8-22

Garrison Keillor interview 2-8-22
Jeff Gill

Songs, stories, and gratitude on stage
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What Garrison Keillor wanted to talk about was gratitude.

"With aging, when your life comes into much clearer perspective," Keillor mused. "I think back to the decades of my so-called career and it was so hectic, so busy. I remember certain events, but I recall my adolescence and childhood more clearly, more than what I was doing in the years with the radio program, and the tours, and the travel. I was consumed with ambition, and the next thing, and the thing after that…"

But now, encountering aging and limits: "You just feel gratitude for everything. What's left is really beautiful. My wife and I play Scrabble every day. When I was so ambitious, I didn't have time for that, but now I do."

I was asking the noted author, performer, and soon third time guest on the Midland Theatre stage about preaching and sermons and storytelling. It was an interview as a long-time fan I'd imagined many times before, and like Lake Wobegon it didn't quite seem real, except there was no mistaking the voice on the other end of the phone advising me on the tension between preparation and delivery in speaking to an audience.

"If you sit down and write out what you're going to say, you find out that when you get up and go out to deliver that manuscript by heart, you will remember what you need to," said Garrison Keillor.

"Memory is a wonderful editor."

A fixture on public radio for many years with his "Prairie Home Companion" Saturday night program, a year after he chose to end his weekly appearances on the air and turn things over to a new host, a former coworker accused Keillor of inappropriate behavior in the workplace. His public radio employers quickly cut all ties with him, and a settlement was reached.

In his now weekly Substack dialogue with fans he said about the incident recently "it's an interesting story but I'm not going to tell it. The old friend who accused me asked for anonymity and I see no reason to disrupt her life. I'm looking at 80 in a few months and so what's the point?"

His recent writing has addressed his age and aging, and I've found myself freshly interested in this new theme of his, just as I dove into his work decades back to understand the gift and grace of public speaking, if not of preaching itself.

Keillor was the very presence on the phone of grace and welcome. He also is persistently very much who he's been through the years, an inquisitive, quizzical, and insightful student of human nature without an excess of optimism about our foibles, but with a strong emphasis on hope. After all, he was the bass anchor for the Hopeful Gospel Quartet.

"We just had a show in Holland, Michigan where we had a singing intermission," Keillor explained. Each "Keillor & Company" program is different; he brings a pianist and vocalist to accompany him, but his goal is clearly to find out if the audience is willing to sing a cappella together — "it's not me, it's not my singing, it's giving people the opportunity to do this, and they almost always rise to the occasion." In Michigan, those assembled responded in four part harmony, a challenge to which I assured him Ohio could rise. Our opportunity to respond in Newark comes on March 3 at the Midland Theatre, with tickets available online for his 7:30 pm show (see the Midland website for details).

"In Easton, Maryland last Sunday, in the monologue I found myself using pieces from my recent novel which had stuck with me, bits from columns I'd written not long ago, stories from my family: I was stealing from myself," Keillor chuckled. "Then we started out with 'My Country 'Tis Of Thee,' and went on to 'It Is Well With My Soul' and 'How Great Thou Art' all a cappella, and since we were near Baltimore, we sang the 'Star-Spangled Banner' and people just responded."

He was very open and candid about his childhood background in a very conservative religious tradition, and the kinds of social limits that were taken for granted by his parents, but also how out of their marriage "doctrine had to give way to love." Keillor's parents took differing views on Christmas observances and musical preferences, but found their way together towards harmonious resolutions as their family story was lived out.

"There's no doubt about it, stories have a certain power," Keillor noted. As we talked our conversation kept coming back to that question of how a community, how a diverse group of people can find in story and song a common purpose, a unifying thread.

"People are wary of a story that carries too clever a moral," he pointed out. "Through stories, we learn about our own culture." And songs, I added. "I worry about how little song some of our younger people know, what songs they have in common." Keillor observed "everyone knows 'Amazing Grace'" and that "Softly and Tenderly" brings everyone together pretty quickly, but what he's trying to keep alive "is the sheer joy you can feel in a room when everyone is singing out and singing together and even in harmony sometimes."

In a career which has ranged from short stories in "The New Yorker" to appearing as a version of himself in a Hollywood movie based on his radio show, his latest turn is online through Substack, with "Garrison Keillor and Friends," where his most recent columns and reader response "Post to the Host" entries have become regular reading.

I pointed out to him that his regular writing has made me think of where he lives as a friendly, compact, small town, even though he makes it clear he's living on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. He laughed at the idea, and explained "since COVID, I've been living a very small life. And a small life, perhaps, is perfect for a writer." His wife runs in Central Park, they have their groceries delivered, he walks to his Episcopal church where he speaks warmly about the ministries they provide, from a rich mix of musical styles and offerings to healing services and sermons to which he's clearly happy to just listen.

As we wrapped up our conversation, he said of his daily routines "It's a very simple life, it happens to take place in a very large city." I assured him that the small city of Newark was looking forward to welcoming him again, and his audience would come grateful for the opportunity to hear him, and for the chance to sing together.

Faith Works 2-19-22

Faith Works 2-19-22
Jeff Gill

What about birthing classes?
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Various questions have been asked of me about my idea that worship services are describable as "birthing classes and funeral rehearsals."

Now, I didn't say that's a comprehensive summary of the totality of what Christian worship is or should be, just that I thought it was a useful template to use, imaginatively speaking.

If someone else wants to say "worship should be communion with the Living God" I won't dispute the point; if another argues "Christian assembly on the Lord's Day should be about turning hearts toward heaven and lifting up Jesus" I'd smile and say "Amen!" to you. Each is an attempt to find a model in words how to sum up and guide the ever-challenging question of leading worship, something both my wife and I have done in a variety of settings from Scout camp shorelines to rented middle school auditoriums, let alone a variety of church buildings, over many years. Worship is not something that can be summarized easily . . . any more than God can be, come to think of it.

But the more I think about my off-hand phrase, the more I like it. It kind of grew out of a post I've done multiple times over the years, after first taking our son to Disney World, and seeing a discreet sign over by the Mad Tea Party: "First Aid & Lost Children." For a long time, that was a phrase I would mention in congregational leadership and in social media as a working summary of what church is at its best: "First Aid & Lost Children." An effective congregation, I'd still say, should be a place where the spiritually hurting can hope to find a kind of first aid for the soul, and where those who feel lost and without a loving parent watching out for them can find a refuge, and maybe even be reconnected with the love they once knew.

That's for faith communities in general (and for the nonce, I think it's a nicely ecumenical description, too, not just a Christian model), but it's not quite as descriptive and prescriptive for worship services. I didn't spend much time thinking about that, just a mental placeholder to note I didn't have a neat summary phrase that worked as well.

My phrase "birthing classes and funeral rehearsals" I think has it's roots, as perhaps too much of my thinking does, in the writing of Wendell Berry, and specifically the closing of his blank verse poem "Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front" (trust me, you should read it if you haven't, easy to find online). Two words: practice resurrection.

"Practice resurrection" might do better in two words what I propose in five, but it's a bit opaque. I'm still claiming it as wisdom, but the fleshing out of it ended up with first "birthing classes" and needed the logical bookend of "funeral rehearsals."

If you've never been through a birthing class, male or female, the main thing to remember is that the leaders want you to be prepared to welcome new life into your own. And they want to be honest with you: it won't come easy, you need to breathe, and you need to accept what comes while working with what's happening. Our natural impulses are not always our friends when birth is ready to occur, but with a modest amount of coaching, the pregnant woman and even the hapless male (or friend, as was true for some of the couples when I was in a birthing class) can make it through.

New life is what we all say we want, but that's not the same as saying we're ready for what it means to let new life be born, or to accept the changes new life brings into our life as it was. Birthing classes do spend a great deal of time on breathing: because that's one of the simple things we need to remember to do when life is changing dramatically, just remembering to breathe. And there's a fair amount of conventional wisdom and outright truism that needs to be shared, because now we're hearing familiar phrases in the context of — now this means us.

Does this description sound more like birthing classes, or preaching and prayer in worship? Stay with me, and I'll get to the second part, too.


Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's practicing resurrection every day. Tell him how you've learned to rise up and go forth at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.

Notes from my Knapsack 3-3-22

Notes from my Knapsack 3-3-22

Jeff Gill

A round trip of the Land of Legend

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If you've got about three hours to spend & have cabin fever, here's my suggestion for a day when the sun is shining. You'll drive a hundred miles and never leave Licking County, but get a great sense of the whole rich wide range of terrain we have.

I'm starting in general around downtown Newark, so adjust from there as suits your location. Head east, exit at Cedar St. and go north on Rt. 79. Drive on through Wilkins Corners, on to turn at Rocky Fork Road heading north: watch you swing left just north of 79 and don't end up on Rainrock Rd., but cross the bridge.

You'll pass Camp Falling Rock but enjoy the geological formations on either side of Rocky Fork, clearly visible from your car this time of year, hidden from the road during leafier seasons. Beware as the pavement ends, keep going until you run into Camp Ohio Rd., turn left. You'll run into Martinsburg Rd., jog north to Richards Rd. then it runs right into Bell Church: get out, enjoy the view from the cemetery hilltop outside the historic church building -- Amish farming to your east makes for a different sort of look to the fields.

Take Bell Church Rd. over to US 62, turn left, roll past Utica (Watts Restaurant just a few blocks north), head across the county with sweeping views north and south and straight ahead. When you hit 657/Marion Rd., turn right; more rolling countryside until you reach the hamlet of Lock and Lock Rd., turning left to shadow the northern county line until you reach Fairgrounds Rd., turning left. Past the Hartford Fairgrounds, into Croton, south on Croton Rd. -- heavily glaciated flat farmfields on either side, after you just saw unglaciated geology all around you up Rocky Fork.

The road ends at Rt. 37, turn left and pass through Johnstown, and just east of town south on 310. Back into rolling terrain, on across Rt. 16 and then south of the highway turn left on Morse Rd., the main road from central Licking County to Worthington and Franklinton in the 19th century. You'll turn right on Outville Rd., and on through one of Licking County's often missed little gems, Outville itself.

Then to US 40, the Old National Road at Kirkersville. This next stretch is straight ahead driving through Luray and Hebron and Jacksontown, but look for old buildings and of course the milestones still often in view on the north side of the road, some nicely maintained, all along the way. Eagle's Nest just before Brownsville, about 15 miles from Kirkersville, is the highest point on the National Road in Ohio, and the views to the south along here are always stunning.

Take Brownsville Road north, aka CR 668; turn right at Flint Ridge State Memorial and pause there as suits you. Flint Ridge Rd. to Gratiot Rd. north (left turn) and at the jog, just turn left and stay on Brushy Fork Rd., making sure to see the Old Stone Church of Christ on your left, the oldest church building in the county still in use (c. 1836, just ahead of St. Luke's in Granville). Meander on down the valley until you reunite with Brownsville Rd., turning right to cross the Licking River, and return to Rt. 16, crossing it, and then veering left on Marne Rd.; you'll pass through Marne village, and watch for Montour's Point on your left (a George Ball home on a site that was a trading post back likely into the 1750s) then Bowling Green Cemetery on the right, oldest pioneer settler cemetery in the county. Cross Rt. 16 again, and enter Newark on E. Main St., returning home as you wish.

About 100 miles, three hours or so depending on stops, and you'll have sampled a grand circuit of this Land of Legend we call home.

Jeff Gill is a writer, storyteller, and preacher in central Ohio; he's driven all of this a few times and backwards, too. Tell him sights you like to share in this county at knapsack77@gmail.com, or follow @Knapsack on Twitter.