The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
I fished alone that languid autumn evening. Fished as darkness kept coming on. Experiencing exceptional loss and then exceptional joy when I brought a silver salmon to the boat, and dipped a net under the fish. Secret heart! When I looked into the moving water and up at the dark outline of the mountains behind... Read more »
The day I learned my wife was dying I told myself if anyone said, Well, she had a good life, I’d punch him in the nose. How much life represents a good life? Maybe a hundred years, which would give us nearly forty more to visit Oslo and take the train to Vladivostok, learn German... Read more »
It was one of those days when the sun poured gold into the air, and flecks of light floated in shafts that fell through the branches of yellow leaf and green. We’d had dinner at a place on the edge of a lake, and now we were going back to town. There was a simple... Read more »
All day we packed boxes. We read birth and death certificates. The yellowed telegrams that announced our births, the cards of congratulations and condolences, the deeds and debts, love letters, valentines with a heart ripped out, the obituaries. We opened the divorce decree, a terrible document of division and subtraction. We leafed through scrapbooks: corsages,... Read more »
Being too warm the old lady said to me is better than being too cold I think now in between is the best because you never give it a thought but it goes by too fast I remember the winter how cold it got I could never get warm wherever I was but I don’t... Read more »
There was an old lady of Queens Who survived on wieners and beans. Wearing Army surplus, Riding the bus, And stealing from vending machines. A misanthrope living in Raleigh Believed human friendship was folly But he did get it on With a trumpeter swan And was fond of a miniature collie. An old fellow lived... Read more »