Got the autumn blues, put on my walking shoes – The Property Chronicle
Select your region of interest:

Real estate, alternative real assets and other diversions

Got the autumn blues, put on my walking shoes

The Storyteller

I love October and I hate to see it pass so quickly. My love and I ate dinner outdoors last Friday and it felt like the Last Time and as an old man, I find Lasts rather painful. I rode the Amtrak into New York from Boston, with that delicious flight in Queens as the train descends toward the tunnel to Manhattan and we’re skimming the housetops like Clark Kent in pursuit of evil gangsters, and I thought, “When will I get to do this again?” and it pained me.

It pains me to see the wave of puritanism in the arts, arts organisations competing to see who can write the most militant mission statements declaring their dedication to Equality and Inclusivity and Anti-Elitism, which tells me clearly that the end is near. Art is elitist because some people are better singers than almost anyone else and some plays astonish and others only fill the time, and if equality is now the goal, then where do we go to experience the extraordinary? Art then becomes ideology and for astonishment we must wait for the next blizzard or thunderstorm. A Manhattan thunderstorm is worth waiting for, but still.  

“Anything you do to turkey is an improvement: stuff it with jellybeans, pour brandy on it and light it on fire”

The Storyteller

About Garrison Keillor

Garrison Keillor

Garrison Keillor did 'A Prairie Home Companion' for 40 years, wrote fiction and comedy, invented a town called Lake Wobegon, where all the children are above average, even though he himself grew up evangelical in a small separatist flock where all the children expected the imminent end of the world. He’s busy in retirement, having written a memoir and a book of limericks, and is at work on a musical and a Lake Wobegon screenplay, and he continues to do 'The Writers Almanac', sent out daily to Internet subscribers (free). He and his wife Jenny Lind Nilsson live in Minneapolis, not far from the YMCA where he was sent for swimming lessons at age 12 after his cousin drowned, and he skipped the lessons and went to the public library instead and to a radio studio to watch a noontime show with singers and a band. Thus, our course in life is set.

Articles by Garrison Keillor

Subscribe to our magazine now!