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Current Occupant
The view of 1600 Pennsylvania
Avenue from Garrison Keillor
I love Garrison Keillor, but from
this point forward I say radio schmadio. I just returned from Minneapolis
and trust me, you have to be there to see our generation’s Will Rogers
in Red High Tops pitching blue state gospel. No one can entertain you in
live lecture like Garrison. And no one can use the term “current
occupant” (of 1600) with the dismissive disdain Dubya deserves than our
Minnesota man.
Yes, folks, there’s 435 days left
before we move the brush-clearing bubba from Crawford back to the cow
pasture, and it’s ever so heartening to know that Keillor will dance in
the streets with his red high tops celebrating blue victories with us once
this court-ordered national nightmare is over. The appointment of boy
blunder in 2000 which resulted in a 2004 “reelection” sentence of four
more years has but 435 excruciating days left. It begs the question how an
appointed President can be “reelected” but I cease to be shocked or
awed at their audacity.
The good news is that in the
heartland, led by inimitable passionate progressives like Garrison Keillor
we can nail this good ole boy with the droll and the dismissive disdain
he’s earned with flying colors. Can we get that approval rating below
Tricky Dick’s? You betcha.
Our Prairie Home Companion is
someone you just know would fight for companionship in all forms. He tells
the tale that in his classroom in the ‘50s, there were adjacent photos
of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln above the blackboard. He thought
they were married. Would the vaunted Republican “one man and one
woman” rule apply to two male presidents who fell in love? It’s not
just an anachronistic farcical fantasy. Thanks to the red state warriors,
it’s also illegal centuries later. (Isn’t it big D Democratically
delicious to think of the Clintons being the first to be married and
exclusively ELECTED president each in their own right? Granted, they’re
straight, but then some of our best friends….)
Like the man on stage, Garrison
Keillor. He spoke of having a staunch Republican sister with whom he does
the dishes at family events in the home in which they were both raised.
His sister, a Right wing Baptist and him, a leftie Episcopalian sing a
Campfire Girls song named “Tell Me Why” while she washes and he dries.
They sing it to keep from killing one another. So it’s the connection of
coming home that’s important. Of belonging. “Oh Susannah” and
“I’ve Been Working on the Railroad” will do it for just about
everyone. Garrison adds the Minnesota fight song and it immediately
connects him to his fellow Gophers.
I am so lucky as a gay man to have
a Cajun family who are mostly Democrats and moderate Republicans. When I
came out, they never batted an eyelash that once in a while I apply
mascara to my own. They assured me that I was one of them and always would
be. So, sure, I’m from a state that almost elected David Duke. Racism
and homophobia are palpable and still run rampant through the bayous. But
it is my home. My family loves me and we make it work. And to this day I
can’t hear the LSU fight song without getting the goose bumps any gay
man would be proud to display. And so what if I’m cheering for a bunch
of young Republicans who probably gay bash for sheer sport. When the
Golden Band from Tiger Land plays “Hey Fighting Tigers” in Baton
Rouge, I am home.
Two things occur to me: first, what
musically brings us together as a gay community? What soothing song can we
sing that everyone feels like “wow, that’s home.” Judy’s “Over
the Rainbow” is over the top and hackneyed. “I Will Survive” is an
anthem—but oh puhleeze. And YMCA is overtly sexual and from a village
far far away. “This Little Light of Mine” might work, but isn’t it
taken?
Second: What brings us together as
gay and straight communities? Garrison has a 38 year old son and 9 year
old daughter. He spoke of the difference in their lives. His son used to
stand on the front seat with him and they’d go barreling down a two lane
highway to North Dakota with 18 wheelers whizzing by. Seat belts weren’t
invented.
Until recently, his daughter has
never ridden facing forward in a car in her life. She was hermetically
sealed in a capsule like Neal Armstrong, strapped in and facing backwards.
But facing backwards is no longer an option for adults. In January of
2009, we will sing “Happy Days are Here Again”—or move, en homo
masse to Canada.
And so I’m here to tell you east
coast snobs—don’t fly over this state. Stop and spend any moment you
can with smart and off the charts funny Garrison Keillor. I got to the
Minneapolis airport and said what I always say to the skycap whenever
I’m flying back to D.C.—“I’m on my way to National Airport in D.C.
and you will receive an extra two dollar tip if you don’t say
‘Reagan’”—they typically get a good chuckle. And $2.
We can’t change the name of the
airport, but in 435 days we can change the occupant at 1600 Pennsylvania.
Garrison and gays both need to get busy.
Brent Mundt makes a living in Washington and a life in Rehoboth
Beach.
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