Post-Keillor Roundup

Last night we hosted Garrison Keillor to a full and enthusiastic crowd. Months ago over a beer, I had promised Paul that he could do the introduction after he confessed how adamantly he loved A Prairie Home Companion. He did a magnificent job getting the audience amped and ready, and when Garrison Keillor took the mic we were all holding our breath because we couldn't quite believe that he was there, within arm's reach, leaning against the pole Rob Sheffield once danced around, breathing the same air we were while talking in that voice we knew so well. 

He spoke for about an hour and a half, telling stories, reciting a poem, and at one point walking so far into the audience that he unplugged the microphone by accident. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard and so consistently during an author event at the store ever, and when I looked around the room everyone was laughing as hard as I was, if not harder. He signed books, posed for pictures, and charmed the daylights out of everyone. At the end of a two+ hour signing line, he gamely posed for several photographs with booksellers. I had just gotten a haircut, and Garrison admitted that he wanted to ruffle my hair. I offered up my head, and he placed his giant hand upon my head and ruffled my hair a few times, much to all of our amusement. 

Shuchi, Garrison, Paul and I laughing about our "double date" pose

This was definitely one of my favorite author events, and I'm glad we were able to host him. The audience was delighted (and delightful!) and I'll sign out with my favorite photograph of the evening: 

Paul was really really starstruck.

 

Garrison Keillor TONIGHT

A few years ago I quit my job in publishing and my husband and I moved to Cape Cod so I could pursue writing. The house, which was more of a cottage, was really only meant to be lived in during the summer. It was set back from a road that led to a beach, the driveway lined by old unkempt trees that were choked up the trunks by vines. My husband would leave at 5am to commute to Boston every day and it was just the dog and I, alone in this house up on a hill. It sounds idyllic, I know, but early on I had no friends in the area, and didn't yet have a job. The first morning alone I sat down at my writing desk a bit stunned.

It was at this time, when I was feeling the most vulnerable and lonesome, that I began religiously reading The Writer's Almanac. It waited for me every morning, the first item in my inbox, the message in it simple: a reprint of a poem, a list of the birthdays and bios of writers and artists. I'd skim the birthdays first, taking comfort in the gnarled paths of famous writers, and then I would read the poem. After the first couple of emails I saw that I could click on listen instead, and so I did, and out from my email came Garrison Keillor's voice, syrupy and luxurious and patient, reading aloud to me. Those quiet mornings, Garrison Keillor's voice would echo throughout the house; sometimes, he'd be the only other voice I'd hear that day until late that night, when my husband came home from work. Garrison's storytelling voice would then follow me to the page, narrating the words I put down, letting me trick myself into believing that what I was writing was indeed a story. I owe many rough drafts to that voice. 

Tonight Garrison Keillor will be at the store, on tour for his new book The Keillor Reader. I imagine many will have a similar story that they'll want to share with Garrison when they get to meet him in the signing line. That is the power of oral storytelling, of radio, really. Books are portable, your imagination's physical companion, but radio voices become part of your family, sharing the space of your home or car. Tonight his reading will be hooked up to speakers throughout the store. I'm helping out with the event but I know I'll be tempted to go upstairs and quietly shelve some books in my section, in my home away from home, as I listen to the voice that kept me company so long ago.