Suzy Bogguss, Pat Donohue, Richard Dworsky, Guy's All-Star Shoe Band, Garrison Keillor, Howard Levy, Fred Newman. Zimmerman. Jack,
Beautiful ( Garrison Keillor , Richard Dworsky ) Polly Wolly Doodle (Tuna Fish and Noodles) ( Garrison Keillor , Howard Levy , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band ) North Side Gal ( Pat Donohue , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band , Howard Levy ) The Evanston Choro ( Howard Levy , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band ) I am Weary (Let Me Rest) ( Garrison Keillor , Suzy Bogguss , Howard Levy , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band ) Rock Island line ( Garrison Keillor , Suzy Bogguss , Howard Levy , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band ) The Gift (Zimmerman. Jack , Richard Dworsky ) Blues in Triplicate ( Howard Levy , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band ) Save Yourself ( Suzy Bogguss , Howard Levy , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band ) Froggie Went A Courtin' ( Garrison Keillor , Suzy Bogguss , Fred Newman , Howard Levy , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band ) High Altitude Blues (Guy's All-Star Shoe Band ) My Old Dad ( Garrison Keillor , Richard Dworsky ) Mighta Coulda (Guy's All-Star Shoe Band , Howard Levy ) Still Hold On ( Suzy Bogguss , Howard Levy , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band ) Salvation ( Howard Levy , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band ) My girl ( Garrison Keillor ) Goodnight Ladies/Sweet Home Chicago ( Garrison Keillor , Howard Levy , Guy's All-Star Shoe Band )
[undocumented]
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It’s been a quiet week in Lake Wobergon, Minnesota, my hometown, out there on the edge of the prairie. A lot of heat at the beginning of the week, and storms, sheets of rain coming down, is a beautiful, beautiful thing. And then Wednesday was the solstice and then we started to get some real heat. For those of you who enjoy that sort of thing, know who you are. But the high point of the week, surely, was last Sunday, which was Father’s Day. A holy day of many obligations, when the venerable gentleman is honored. Fires are lit in his honor, behind the homes. And animals are slaughtered, and their flesh is burnt, as an offering for him. He gets the biggest piece, of course, because he is your father. He is the source of honor and the source of justice, in your family. He is the giver of life, he is the giver of good advice, and of he’s the disposer of rodents, dead rodents, as well. He fulfills all of these functions. He’s the only person who knows how to pack luggage in the trunk of the car. Mystical knowledge that is handed down. So, it was a beautiful day. It was perfect summer day, last Sunday. We don’t get that many of them, just warm and sunny, and paradise. A gorgeous day, and yet people did go to the Lutheran Church. The church was packed with people for the baptism of Roger Headland’s granddaughter, Nora Nystrom, in her long, floor-length, though she’s only an infant in arms, white baptismal gown. She was the perfect baptismal baby. She did not cry, she made no sound. She did not scream as so many infants do, at the thought of becoming Lutheran. As you might yourselves, were we to pluck the magic twanger and try to put that water on you. You might recoil from it yourself, because it is a grave obligation to be a Lutheran. And to represent order, and justice, and kindness, and the truth in this world, rather than to represent cruelty and bullying and shoving other people around, the way so many others do. It’s like being the nicest person in your high school class. In fact, it’s not like being the nicest person, it is being the nicest person in your high school class. So, of course, you are the target of resentment and envy, and it’s not an easy thing. And that’s why there are fewer Lutherans, than there are of so many other denominations. But never mind, never mind. There were still people in church, it’s the 9:30 service, and they’ve finally gotten used to the idea there is one service and not the two and so it was packed, it was packed with people Pastor Liz gave another one of her sermons without notes, which make people very nervous in church. Because you have no idea how long this might go on. She came down out of the pulpit, with the little microphone pinned to her alb, and she was talking about faith and faith being like a mustard seed, and how there are so many kinds of mustard now, and not just the French’s mustard that we grew up with. But now there’s Dijon, and there’s many kinds of Dijon, and there’s rough-cut mustard, and there’s beer mustard, and there’s mustard that’s mixed with horseradish, and there’s mustard with cranberries, God help us. And she listed so many different mustards that are on the grocery shelves, that she lost track of where she was going with this. And where this metaphor was leading her, but she didn’t pause. You should never stop when you’re confused – plunge right on. And she started talking about her father, it was Father’s Day. And she remembered the train trip that they had taken, the two of them, on the coast starlight train, and how wonderful it was when she was a little girl. And she woke up in the middle of the night, as little towns were flashing by in Northern California. And she looked up, and there he was in the upper bunk, and he was looking down at her. And he was smiling. And this is how she chose to remember her father ever since. His benevolence and looking out for her and blessing her. It wasn’t a true story. In fact, she woke up because she was having a bad dream that a bear was attacking her and that she woke up and it was her father snoring up above. And it sounded like growling to her. But, this was a sermon, not a memoir. And so, it was a good enough story. It was a beautiful morning in church. The windows wide open, no need for air conditioning. You could hear traffic going by. Tires on soft asphalt streets, After the sermon, everyone came up for communion. A whole crowd of people coming up the aisle. And young women in shorts, with tattoos we hadn’t been aware of, on their calves, and around their ankles. And old ladies with blue hair, and a man in a wheelchair, and some women with long dresses and other women in shorts. And men in sandals and men who looked old and hunched over and beaten down. And women who looked as if they could leap straight up into the air and grab hold of a trapeze and swing out the window. All of these people, slowly marching up towards communion as TIbby Markland, at the organ, played “Shepherd, Savior, Like a Shepherd, Lead Us as Much as we Need Thy Tenderest Care.” And then she stopped playing, and you could hear the sounds of the town. You could hear a distant dog barking, and a screen door slap. And you could hear somebody’s radio playing far away. And you could smell peach pie that someone was baking, and you heard a car horn honk, downtown. Because a snapping turtle had been crossing Main Street, and Dorothy had been watching him from the window of the Chatterbox Café. And she was worried about the snapping turtle, slowly crossing the street. And she saw a car almost hit him and then swerve and just catch the edge of the turtle’s shell and flip him. He flipped up into the air, spinning over and over and clattered down on his back. And she ran out to turn him over and he snapped at her. And now he was heading back the way he had come. And she had to turn him around. And she couldn’t do it just with her foot, she had to grab hold of his shell and turn him. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to be turned, but she aimed him towards the lake, and then she stood over him as he slowly crossed. And a car came along, thinking there was a crazy woman in the middle of the street, and honked long and hard at her. And she looked at the car and said, “You go to hell!” They heard this in church, as they moved up to the communion rail. They heard a lawnmower start and then a woman yell at him, to “Turn it off. Damnit! Turn it off! Sunday morning is a day of rest.” They could hear all the sounds of our town. TIbby Markland had stopped playing the organ because she was worried that she had forgotten to turn her cell phone off. And it was buried deep in her tote bag, there, around back of the organ. And it’s a kind of loud, kind of a loud ringtone , It’s a soprano singing, “O Mio Babbino, Caro.” And she knew, if it rang, people would laugh and laugh, and she would never hear the last of it. So she was searching in her tote bag for her cell phone, as people moved up to the communion rail. This odd group of people, and Marilyn Headland and Pastor Liz distributing the wafers and passing the wine; the body, the blood, of our Lord. People could hear the town moving on this perfect summer day. They could hear one boy, not too far away, say, “Look at that. Look out there, on the boat. Look.” And his friend said, “She’s not naked. What are you talking about?” “She was!” “No, she’s not! She’s not naked.” And then Tibby found her cell phone, but she had already turned it off. So, when she went to turn it off, she turned it on. And it sang, “O Mio Babbino, Caro,” as people were receiving the body and the blood of our Lord.” It was a perfect Sunday morning. Absolutely perfect. Confusion, as always. But we just maintain our course, through all of the chaos. Pastor Liz finished up and we all sang, “Children of the Heavenly Father, safely in his bosom gather. Nesting bird nor star in heaven, such a refuge e’er was given.” And she stood at the door, and she told people to “Go, to go and do follow the commandments. There are things in this world that need to be done that will not be done unless you do them. There are things that need to said that will not be said, unless you say them.” “Go in peace,” she said, and that’s what they all did. That’s the news from Lake Wobegon. Where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.
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