Editor’s note: This op-ed is by Bob Stannard, a storyteller, musician and lobbyist for Citizens Action Network, an anti-Vermont Yankee group. This column first appeared in the Bennington Banner.
The stage is set. It’s a simple set on the stage; nothing more than a stool with a tall glass filled with ice and topped off with water. The stool sits towards the back of the stage. In front of the stool is a microphone stand, which securely holds a microphone. That’s it. No dry ice to create fog. No mirror ball. No pyrotechnics. Zip.
After a few announcements the man of the hour is introduced. He strolls out onto the empty stage. Before taking the microphone, he picks up the glass chock full of ice and water and gently sets it on the floor where it sits solemnly the entire evening never to be touched again.
The man picks up the stool and sets it near the microphone stand. He removes the microphone from the stand. With his foot, which is adorned with a red sneaker, he carefully pushes the stool off to his right; just a little; not too far. Instead of speaking to the sold out theater he begins by singing a Carol about being an atheist, but hoping that just in case, god might be real, because of the times he had to go to church for Christmas. It was a classic coming from the Minnesotan.
“I’m going to ask you all to sing with me” the lone speaker said to his audience. “It’s a simple part and I’m sure you can ALL join in”. Those who knew they could not carry a tune sat in fear in their padded seats knowing that not singing was not an option.
“Hallelujah….Hallelujah”. That was our part. It was suspended to sound more like, “Haaaaahhhh Laaayy Luu Jah; Haa Laayy Luuuuuu Jah.:”
“You sing beautifully” he says to the audience, which has now immediately bonded with the man with whom most have bonded many years ago.
There are many great story tellers in the world today; John Irving, Stephen King on the international scale and Frank Byran and Wilem Lang on the more local scale. I like to think that most Vermonters can tell a pretty good story or two on occasion. I have never seen a person who can so completely captivate people with the use of words and voice fluctuation better than Garrison Keillor.
His stories told with eyes closed most of the evening, only to open half-heatedly to ensure that no one has left the room (or perhaps sneaking up on him to take the untouched glass of water) are riveting. He is funny, serious, sad, engaging simultaneously.
It’s difficult to determine if his stories are true and simply exaggerated or if they are made up on the fly, out of thin air. Did he really have an alcoholic Uncle Jack who saved the young Garrison’s life when Garrison left his warm sleeping bag inside the cold tent during a frigid winter’s night camping with Boy Scouts, only to get lost as he wandered way far away from the tent to go pee?
“We’re a modest people” was his excuse for getting lost. The ice in the untouched glass has now half melted away. He sang another Carol. Around the third verse his melodic voice sang “You can make up your own words; your own words”. The next verse began with “ Cape Air lost my bags; that’s why I’m wearing jeans”.
We had great seats and could see his facial features clearly. For just about the entire evening the long time host of “A Prairie Home Companion” sat on the stool with his eyes closed lost in his own world of the way life once was and how it is today. He seamlessly drifts back and forth between the decades as gracefully as an ice skater navigates around the oval rink.
I will not try to describe or retell the stories. That would be sacrilege. The only thing worse might be covering the more complicated Beatles’ tunes. There is no way to improve on either. He did say that inasmuch as this is a Christmas show and that there were likely atheists in the house that we should never have to apologize for enjoying Christmas. I’ll leave it at that.
Our nation has many national treasures. Teddy Roosevelt fought for and gave us our National Parks. Gutzon Borglum gave us Mt. Rushmore. Mark Twain, Sinatra, Elvis and other entertainers enriched our lives as well. This country has produced some the best poets, writers, TV & radio hosts, singers and song writers of any country on earth. However, I don’t believe in modern times our nation has had a better gift; a great National Treasure than that of Mr. Garrison Keillor.
The evening comes to a close. The ice no longer occupies space in the glass. It’s a perfect ending to yet another year in America. This is my last column for 2010. I’d like to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and a wonderful 2011. Thanks to Bennington Banner for allowing me to serve as a columnist. I also want to thank ALL of you who have offered your thoughts and comments; both good and bad, over the past year. You make it fun.
