Back in the late '70s when I was a lad, my father would listen to Prairie Home Companion every Saturday evening without fail. And every Saturday evening if I was around I would sneer at the show for its homey folksiness, its old-timey fiddle and gospel music, its cornball radio skits and of course its "News from Lake Woebegone" recited by the man I thought was probably the biggest dope on the planet. So when my mother showed up the other day with this book by Garrison Keillor and told me I should read it, I sneered a little inside. I couldn't help myself. I took the book rather grudgingly, turned somewhere in the middle and started reading, thinking I could hand it right back to her to take on her merry way. Instead, I was drawn into the book immediately, and I was drawn in by that same folksy voice of Keillor's that I had scorned so intently in my youth.
At this point in my life I'm older than my father was back when he first started listening to Prairie Home Companion, but I don't think it has anything to do with age. Instead, I think I better understand what Keillor is doing now, and how what he does is such an integral part of what it means to be an American, and how he is a part of that tradition of American voices that have delivered homespun wisdom in a folksy and funny down-home way over the years. So now I can put Keillor on that same list as James Thurber, Mark Twain and Will Rogers, but not Mencken because there's nothing cynical in that voice of Keillor's, only an earnestness tinged with an irony that reflects his Minnesota roots that give him so much of his material.
Here in Homegrown Democrat Keillor channels Twain, and maybe even more so Whitman whom he references in a few places throughout the book, as he draws on those Minnesotan roots to reflect on the experiences and influences that developed his political consciousness first as a boy (I am a Democrat, which was nothing I decided for myself but simply the way I was brought up, starting with the idea of Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, which is the basis of the simple social compact by which we live and also You are not so different from other people so don't give yourself airs, which was drummed into us children back in the old days when everyone went to public schools) and later as a young man at the University of Minnesota (John F. Kennedy made a big impression on me, but attending the University was what confirmed me as a Democrat, the thought that the taxpayers of Minnesota really had faith that knowledge and understanding ennoble us. An egalitarian spirit prevailed at the U that truly was noble. There was no rank, no hazing, no freshman beanies, we were all in the same boat. You were Mr. Keillor to your professor and he was Mr. Brown to you. You looked him in the eye. You said, "I don't get this" and he explained it to you. That was his job. Yours was to pay attention). And throughout, from the limericks that begin each chapter to the final chapter about 9/11 (Keillor was in Manhattan in September 2001), Keillor looks at the kindness and generosity of spirit that he sees in Democrats and that he mourns the loss of in Republicans since the days of Richard Nixon.
In fact, Keillor has some kind words for Nixon, the last Republican president "to feel a Christian obligation toward the poor." Since Nixon, he writes, The party of Lincoln and Liberty was transmogrified into the party of hairy-backed swamp developers and corporate shills, faith-based economists, see-through fundamentalist bullies with Bibles, Christians of convenience, freelance racists, hobby cops, misanthropic frat boys, lizardskin cigar monkeys, jerktown romeos, ninja dittoheads, the shrieking midgets of AM radio, tax cheats, cheese merchants, cat stranglers, taxi dancers, grab-ass executives, gun fetishists, genteel pornographers, pill pushers, chronic nappers, nihilists in golf pants and on and on for another page and a half. (Despite all the piss and vinegar here, though, Keillor in 2004 couldn't even imagine what was in store for the country in the Republican primaries of 2012!) Here rather uncharacteristically you can feel Keillor bordering on anger, as if he has begun to channel a little Hunter S. Thompson in place of his more gentle muses, but Keillor is writing in the lead-up to the 2004 election and he's right to be angry at the direction George W. Bush has taken the country. But instead of anger, the predominating emotion throughout the book is a gentle appreciation for all the public institutions that America has built and the goodness that have come to all of us through them. He meditates on the public school, the public university, the public library, and how important each has been in the creation of our citizenry: When you wage war on the public schools, you're attacking the mortar that holds the community together. You're not a conservative, you're a vandal. The sorehead vote is out there. the guys who have a few beers and wonder why the hell they should have to pay taxes for the schools when their kids have graduated. What's the logic there, Joe? and you can rouse them up and elect a school board to take revenge on the teachers and you do your community no favors.
Keillor should add a chapter or two and re-release this excellent little read in the months here leading up to November's election. Everything he is talking about in this book is perfectly embodied in the triumphant apotheosis of that empty greedhead Mitt Romney over the clowns and jackals he ran against in the primaries. As Keillor writes on the final page, Dante said that the hottest place in hell is reserved for those who in time of crisis remain neutral, so I have spoken my piece, and thank you, dear reader. It's a beautiful world, rain or shine, and there is more to life than winning. The thing that has been is the thing that shall be; and the thing that is done is that which shall be done: there is nothing new under the sun. And the race is not to the swift nor the battle to the strong nor riches to men of understanding, but time and chance happeneth to them all. Lord, have mercy.
And those fine words can probably be said again this November as well.