A New Prairie Home Companion: Big Shoes to Fill

If you think Saturday Night Live hasn't been funny since the 70's, you probably won't listen to A Prairie Home Companion this year.

For the first time in 40 years, Garrison Keillor is not hosting the popular public radio show. In his place is mandolin player, Chris Thile. Can you imagine how difficult it must be to replace Garrison Keillor? Mr. Thile must have been a nervous wreck as he hosted his first show on October 15.

I've listened to PHC for many years. I've enjoyed the understated sense of humor. I relate to the midwestern sensibility of Lake Wobegon. I love the public service messages about ketchup. I laugh out loud at the Professional Organization of English Majors.

Most of this, I've heard in the car. I don't think I've ever heard the full two hours all the way through. I listen to most of it in bits and pieces on my way to dinner on a Saturday evening or to the store during the replay on Sunday.

To be honest, I haven't always been in the mood for the musical performances. They have tended to be overly folksy and too sentimental. It's not that I haven't liked the style of music, it's just that a little goes a very long way. In fact, over the years, if I've turned on the car radio and PHC has been in the middle of a twangy number, I'd usually switch to the other public radio channel to see if Wait Wait Don't Tell Me was on.

If, on the other hand, if it was Guy Noir solving a case, or Dusty and Lefty out on the range, I'd listen with rapt attention.

So, like everyone else, I was curious about Chris Thile and how he'll do at the helm of the show which has been, for all these years, Garrison's heart and soul. It's kind of like getting a new minister at church. Or a new teacher. Will we like him? Will he be as nice as the old one? Will he be funny? Will he measure up?

He probably won't.

Face it. Public radio listeners, particularly those who listen to PHC, are old and we old people don't like change. We always think it was better with the original cast - like with Saturday Night Live. Chris Thile doesn't stand a chance, no matter how good he is.

So on my way home from church the other day, the Sunday morning replay of the previous night's Companion came on, featuring the young new host. Much to my delight, it was the beginning of a comedy sketch. The captain of a sinking ship was radioing in for help and an English major was receiving the call, correcting the grammar of the captain's pleas. Hilarious!

Then, as Chris Thile began to introduce a musical number, I reached for the button to change the channel. But instead of a folksy, sentimental twang, I heard a sort of rocky, jazzy tune by Lake Street Dive. I listened to the whole song, and the next. And then I arrived at home.

Maybe the new Prairie Home Companion won't be so bad after all.

Reflections on a French Honeymoon

"Paris has that feel of a huge walking city, people from all over the world, constant movement, and human drama all around. It's a little like New York City, except it doesn't smell like urine and the people are nicer."

As we get back into our normal lives of work and piles of laundry, the past month recedes into a happy memory. We loved our wedding. The best part was having our loved ones all together as we celebrated. Clyde and I followed that with some honeymooning in France, seeing the sights of Paris, lounging poolside on the Riviera, kicking back beach side, and napping in comfortable hotel rooms. The latter we were able to do without the feline company we have at home, what we've come to call "catus interruptus," the sudden need for attention cats have whenever humans lie down together. But that's a subject for another time.

France is just as great as they say it is. It's beautiful and romantic. It's dripping with history. There is much to see. Naturally I came away with some observations and generalizations:

• You really can just sit and relax over food and coffee at an outdoor cafe, taking in the sights as well as second hand smoke from others' cigarettes. People smoke a lot more over there.
• Is there any place more appropriate for a romance than the French Riviera? It felt like James Bond or Brigitte Bardot might walk by at any moment, having just stepped off one of the giant yachts anchored nearby. 
• The French are very stylish and beautiful. They dress well. The only people wearing shorts out on the street are tourists. Upon coming home, I'm very aware of what slobs Americans are. I include myself in that observation.
• Many French have cute little dogs, at least in the urban places we visited. I swear, they seem to yap with a French accent and a bit of stylish attitude.
• France is a capitalist western country where bejeweled shoppers rush by homeless people outside the high-end shops of the Champs Elysee, just like you'd see on Fifth Avenue in New York or 16th Street in Denver.   
• Paris has that feel of a huge walking city, people from all over the world, constant movement, and human drama all around. It's a little like New York City, except it doesn't smell like urine and the people are nicer.
• Subways. I love subways.
• Of course, some things are universal. People everywhere have their noses pointed at smart phones, only glancing up enough to see where they should be going.
• Remember that old Marianne Faithfull song, The Ballad of Lucy Jordan? "She realized she'd never ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair." Well suck it Lucy. I got to do it. Ok, it was on top of a big double deck tourist bus instead of a sports car, but still ... And please, no comments about the amount of hair the wind may or may not have blown through on my particular head. 

I miss eating in France. Not just the food, but the act of eating. You don't just fill the hole in your face in France. You sit, you converse, you savor. You don't eat out before an evening out. Eating out is the evening out. The waiter doesn't rush you out the door by bringing you the check before you are finished. You are expected to linger as long as you need to before asking the waiter to bring you the check. It's a whole different outlook.

But the food itself - it's so much better over there.

The pastry is flakier. The fruit is sweeter. The cream is somehow creamier. The butter is butterier. The cheese is cheesier. The coffee richer, without a hint of bitterness. Even the pre-prepared sandwiches in the convenience stores are made with fresher ingredients, as if just in from the farm. Even the cheap roadside frozen soft serve is better than what we have here.

And don't get me started on the bread. Before going to France, I used to look forward to scones in my office building cafeteria. Now, I can barely look at them. American bread is crap. I don't know why the French make it so much better. Maybe they just demand it fresher and don't tolerate it after it's a day old. I don't know. But seeing overcooked, plastic wrapped cinnamon rolls baked Godonlyknowswhen, made my stomach lurch this morning. And the coffee at work? Forget it.

Travel normally makes me appreciate home. Well, in spite of the lower quality of naps, it's good to see the cats. And it feels great to be married on any continent.

As for the rest, I guess I'll just have to power down the car window and stick my head out to feel the wind blow through my hair.