Amazon is its own nation within the U. You want to tell us how to run Hong Kong, fine, but we embargo clothing. Our lust for Chinese-made clothing, cellphones, computers, and cars will settle the matter. End of story. I walked around looking at the snow and noticed people flocking to the hardware store to buy plastic sliders and tiny toboggans. A good hard winter is a restorative.
A good snowfall for Epiphany is a big boost. Speak the truth and the truth shall set you free. In the other direction is a place you do not want to go. It was front-page in the papers and the subhead said that a U. The blockage of an interstate is the true measure of a serious storm and the headline writer tossed in the senator as further evidence, but it only made me wish there had been numerous senators — say, those from Florida, South Carolina, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana, the five states least accomplished at snow motorism, and if the Senate had come to session the next morning, our nation would get moving again, one blockage breaking a logjam.
My wife took away my car keys a couple years ago when I mentioned casually while driving that I have double vision and so my old Minnesota highway skills have atrophied.
I sit in the shotgun seat and am astonished at her adeptness in traffic, her unhesitant merging, her acceleration upon seeing the light turn yellow, her masterful or mistressful parallel parking. She is a whiz: her training as a violinist, paying close attention to the score while also watching an untrustworthy conductor and listening to your section, has served her well as a motorist. Plus, she swears better than I ever could. Growing up evangelical, I swear like a kindergarten teacher.
I feel no diminution of my manhood whatsoever. On second thought, I do miss the sense of superiority, cruising through a blizzard along Highway 12, seeing a car in the ditch, and the absolute superiority when I stopped to help a ditched driver with his thumb out.
Jesus left that out of the Good Samaritan story, the unseemly pleasure of assisting the helpless. My pleasure. A rather smug pleasure. I have a very close relationship with my cardiologist. The other day, he called in a medical technician to make an adjustment to the device and a tall child who appeared to be about fifteen walked in with an iPad and started tapping on the Pad. It is a sobering experience to have a teenager tinkering with your heart on an iPad as if I were a video game.
One mistake and the defibrillator might defunctionalize me. What made it worse was his black T-shirt. I assumed health care people wear white or pale blue. A boy with a plaything held my life in his hands. There is no smugness after this. Another three hundred serious snowstorms and the Senate might discuss climate matters.
I was in Clearwater Beach, Florida, the morning of the 31st, listening to coffee drip, looking out the picture window at a parking lot, and saw a squirrel sitting on top of a telephone pole at eye level fifteen feet away, looking at me.
On the beach, men with metal detectors searched for lost diamond rings and gold ingots. The squirrel had no good reason to be on top of a pole and I had no reason to be in Florida and the men on the beach kept moving along and not finding anything, we were all just spending time, and eventually the squirrel went racing along a cable to a nearby roof and I flew back home and I assume the men found something else to do, maybe watch football and drink Harvey Wallbangers.
I hate wasting time, now that people my age are dying like flies. I prefer black T-shirts. I hate wasting time. Did I already say this? And I am avoiding certain people who tend to interrupt a conversation with learned monologues and if I were to mention the usefulness of Play-Doh in making temporary repairs around the house, they might offer a lecture on Plato and his influence on Christianity by way of Augustine and while this is impressive, it kills the conversation dead.
I have a few loquacious friends among my many monosyllabic ones and I know their phone numbers and sometimes I let their calls go to voice mail where they can talk to the machine if they like.
My mother took time-saving shortcuts. In her late eighties, she stopped ironing handkerchiefs and sheets and pillowcases. Here's a personal shot of me with guitar hero Leo Kottke -- we shared a manager for many years but rarely get to play in the same place.
Guest Information. Leo Kottke. With his quick wit and astounding virtuosity, guitarist Leo Kottke has amassed a huge and loyal following since making his debut album in String Blues , recorded live at the Scholar coffeehouse in Minneapolis.
Then came major-label releases Mudlark and the seminal 6- and String Guitar , which has been reissued on CD three times since it first came out in the early s. Website Find Merchandise. During her childhood in Aledo, Illinois, Suzy Bogguss loved music. She joined the church choir, played the piano and drums, and bought her first string with the money she earned from babysitting. Since moving to Nashville in the mids, she has won acclaim in both country and contemporary music circles. It was released earlier this year on the Loyal Dutchess label.
The School Forest, on CD 1, could have used a better title. It is really about the Mist County Fair, the story of the Johnson Sisters, perennial runner-ups to the Lennon Sisters, and the importance of being an extremely gracious winner. The News From Lake Wobegon on the second CD is the sad story of Jimmy the bus driver and a rare instance where a Lake Wobegon misfit is not somehow grudgingly accepted. This story is also reminiscence of days of old where children we set free unsupervised to explore life on their own.
CD 2 starts off with the story of Ruth Harrison, Reference Librarian in a somewhat messy but funny skit about a spinster librarian, a guy who cuts out pages from rare books, and the skeleton who lives in the library basement. The Lunchtime Jamboree is one of the many versions of the story of Carson Weillor, radio star. Of course, there is a Lives of the Cowboys story, this time it is about Dusty taking up poetry writing.
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