Growing up, I had mixed feelings toward Garrison Keillor. (For those of you unfamiliar with The Voice, go here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Garrison_Keillor)
His voice was of course a presence in my childhood since my mother was born and raised in Ada, MN-it truly could have been Lake Woebegon. He spoke to me, soothed me, and sang to me as a child...but it was often accompanied by sharp SHHH!'s from my parents for daring to speak during the program. Noon on Sunday was a sacred hour, devoted to The Voice, so if you had something to say, you'd better spit it out before 11:59.
I grew to appreciate Garrison Keillor's shows for their cleverness and music--the sound effects guy didn't hurt either. I've watched hs movie, gone to a recorded showing of a live Prairie Home Companion, and loved his poetry anthologies. But then, a few week ago, something happened that changed my relationship with Garrison Keillor forever:
I got to meet him.
It was a complete fluke. He was hosting a fundraiser dinner at his home for Al Franken. A good friend of mine knows Al Franken and had been invited to the home of The Voice. It was one of the most shocking moments of my life when I jokingly asked if he needed a personal secretary to accompany him and he said, "Oh, I could get you in--do you want to go?". (Insert feelings of awe, gasps of shock, and exclamations of joy). A few days later, we were on our way to St. Paul to have a nice little visit with Garrison Keillor.
The minute we pulled up to the front door, I felt like a 16-year-old getting ready for her first night as an adult. The surreal feeling of being extremely young intensified from there: we walked in the front door, and all of a sudden I was a gawky 15. We stepped into the huge receiving room containging a baby grand and walls of books, and I was 14. I turned to my left and got my first glimpse of Garrison Keillor in the flesh--red sneakers and all--and I was 13 verging on 12. He was right there. And I was about to meet him.
We were ushered into a short line of people waiting to have their picture taken with The Senator and The Voice. I stepped firmly from 12 right into 11. By the time I came face to face with him, Garrison Keillor, The Voice, I was a solid 8 years old.
It didn't help that Garrison Keillor is extremely tall. I introduced myself to both him and Senator Franken, then obediently turned to step away and let someone else turn into a pre-pubescent pile of goo. But the Senator asked me a question. We chatted for a bit, and I started to grow in metaphorical age again. And then Garrison Keillor leaned close and asked, "What did you say your name was?" and there was The Voice. Speaking to me. Coming out of a body. It was totally disorientating.
I descended straight back into the age of 8. "Rachel, Rachel Wrenn, you know, like the bird, just with two N's." Oh my lord, I am babbling! I thought to myself. He asked a few more questions, but I was feeling completely self-conscious and made my exit soon so I didn't hold up the line.
The next 15 minutes I existed in a strange state of being totally aware of my surroundings--Garrison Keillor's house!!--and totally disconnected. I replayed the conversation in my head several times, always wincing at my answers and marveling at the fact that that was the real Garrison Keillor!
The night passed slowly, for which I was grateful, in a state of heightened excitement. I drank in the house, the books, the paintings, family pictures. I listened to both Garrison Keillor and Al Franken give small speeches, filled with jokes, humor, and politics--I relished the first two and ignored the third. And yet all too soon, the evening was coming to an end.
As we turned to get our coats, I noticed Garrison Keillor standing just a few feet behind me, talking with another clergy member I'd met that night. I stepped closer but still at a distance, intending not to interrupt but to say thank you when their conversation paused. Both men stopped talking and looked at me. Well hello again, 8-year-old Rachel!
"I just wanted to say thank you for hosting us, I had a lovely time tonight, it was a pleasure to be here." Well, that didn't come off so bad.
"You're welcome," came the reply, still disconcerting coming from an actual body. "What did you say your name was? And where did you grow up?"
I soon discovered that Garrison Keillor, for all ist strangeness and eccentricities, has the amazing ability to out people at ease. With just the right combination of questions and comments, he explored my past and discovered my present. "What is it like, being a young female clergy-woman?". It was a thoroughly enjoyable conversation, though I wasn't entirely out of my 8-year-old self, which soon became apparent.
He was in the middle of describing the kind of group that St. Olaf students used to be at Luther Seminary and paused, holding his hands expressively as he searched for a word, and I offered, "Cadre?"
"Cadre! Yes, that's it, that's the word exactly," he said, satisfied.
"Oh my gosh," I squeaked aloud, "I just supplied a word for Garrison Keillor!" We both laughed self-consciously, as I mentally kicked myself for sounding like such an idiot. Soon after that I thanked him again and we took our leave. As we drove home that night, I couldn't help but reflect on the strangeness of the evening. It's a bizarre thing to meet a childhood icon. It's an even more peculiar thing when he turns out to be exactly as you'd imagined him.
I listened to The News From Lake Woebegon that weekend, waiting to see if it felt any different to hear to The Voice after meeting him in person--and, I must confess, to see if any of Pastor Liz contained some of my own story that I'd shared with him. Neither happened. The Voice was still The Voice. Pastor Liz was Pastor Liz. Probably the only person changed out of the experience was me. In one evening, I'd walked hand in hand with my childhood self and met--even confronted, a bit--the personality that had been such a part of my life. It felt good. It felt...whole, somehow. I had braved the creator of Lake Woebegon, and come through it feeling strong...good-looking...and even a bit above-average.
