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Garrison Keillor: The Snow Shovel Is the Secret of Happiness

Garrison Keillor loves winter. He always talks about it. He always romanticizes it. In fact, I don't even think he owns a place in the south at all. I know that he owns a house in Wisconsin, an apartment in  New York City, and he lives in St. Paul, MN. I wouldn't call those places warm areas. I, however, just can't agree with him. As much as I love snow, I still love warm weather better. But, in the end, really, happiness is where your roots are. My roots are where my children are. Lucky for me, we don't live in Minnesota. We live in an area that has some winterish days and lots of warm days. I am happy that we did settle where we are, because, as, I said earlier, I really don't cherish snow and winter weather 7 out of the 12 months of the year. This essay, as it is usual for just about anything he writes, is a good essay—a nice read. I hope that you enjoy it.

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By Garrison Keillor
Nov. 19, 2008 |

Winter is what we were meant for. Even we older guys in heart-attack country attack the snowdrifts for the sheer heroism of it.

 

( I don't know why flight attendants put a skinny plastic swizzle stick in your cup of coffee, but there it is, and the other day, I brought the coffee to my lips and stuck the stick way up into my nostril, which gives an odd sensation, pain and also shame of course and slight nausea like when a doctor snaked a probe with a tiny video camera into my nostril and down into my gullet and on the video monitor I saw red inflamed tissue all wet and twitching and some droopy things that might have been adenoids or the rudiments of gills, the creaturely innards of me that I do my best to ignore. I prefer the white shirt and herringbone jacket aspect of myself. )