The Writer's Almanac
Each day, Garrison Keillor reads a poem and relates stories of significant events touching literary history.
I’ve fallen many times: the usual stumbles over secret schoolgirl crushes, head-over-heels for teen heartthrobs. I loved them all. I’ve fallen so many times: tripped down the aisle over husband, daughter, son. Madly and deeply, I love them all. I’ve fallen again and again: new friends, a mentor, a muse, numerous books, a few authors,... Read more »
for Marilyn After the white balloons were swept away on the wind that had swallowed most of our vows, after the embraces and tears, the flung rose petals, after new friends and old friends and aunts from everywhere, after you tossed the bouquet, and the cries of the children raised coyote cries on the rim,... Read more »
My hygienist likes to include me in the decision-making. “Shall we use the hand scaler or the ultrasonic today?” she asks me. I like the way she says “we,” like we’re doing something intimate and collaborative, like building a snowman, or more like dismantling one after an ice storm, flake by frozen flake. “The calculus... Read more »
My stepdaughter says I’m boring. “Everything you say is boring and like so seventies.” Her mother says I’m wonderful, though. “She’s being fresh. Don’t listen to her,” she says. But I can’t help listening because I want to be fresh and not boring, and I want to say ‘like’ like my stepdaughter because everything is... Read more »
Great-Grandmother Murphy was a proud woman. She came from a well-to-do family that had con- nections back east. She had presence and bearing. Great-Grandpa Murphy was an Irishman of dubi- ous ancestry and background. Nevertheless they got married, as people do. Grandpa Murphy shuf- fled along as they walked downtown, looking at the ground or... Read more »
Crossing the porch in the hazy dusk to worship the moon rising like a yellow filling-station sign on the black horizon, you feel the faint grit of ants beneath your shoes, but keep on walking because in this world you have to decide what you’re willing to kill. Saving your marriage might mean dinner for... Read more »