Greg Brown, Butch Thompson Trio.
[undocumented]
Bunsen, Clint Chatterbox Cafe Pastor Ingqvist
It's been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, this past week. One of those weeks when it's so quiet, you have a feeling that you're missing something- that you you're missing out on your news sources, but you go down to the Chatterbox Cafe and you talk to people and you find out no, they don't know nothing either. So just one of those weeks when there's not much going on.
Though of course it's deceptive, here in these winter months with the storm windows on so tight. Probably a lot goes on behind them that we don't know about and probably have no right to know about, and I shouldn't even talk about except now and then I do when it's brought to my attention. As it was here now this last Wednesday in Lake Wobegon when the Lugers- the Lugers busted their big picture window out front that they went to such expense to install there where the front porch used to be- they glassed it in and put in the picture window and they busted it here at high noon on Wednesday when the Mr came home from work.
An object came flying out of the window, a black object. Which, as we looked at it out through our windows, appeared to be a copy of the Bible. Mrs Lugar came out the front door and came out and picked it up and yes indeed, it was a Bible and she took it back indoors. That was all we saw. We had to kind of piece together the rest for ourselves. But knowing the Lugers as I do, I figured that she probably was showing him a verse in the scriptures that he didn't care to be reminded of at that particular moment when he had come home to have his lunch. And he grabbed it away from her- he snatched it from her and he pitched it as hard as he could and it happened to go out the picture window and it busted.
Well, I guess there’s nothing unusual about that. Jacob wrestled with Angels and all of us fight the Bible from time to time, but my goodness now he's got to order the new glass. And he's got to pull out those big shards of glass. And he's got the plastic over it now. And you know, there's got to be a draft in their house. And he's got to install the new glass all in full view of the neighbors who know what happened.
And as for the Bible he did no damage to that. It wasn't hurt a bit. Not a word is missing. It's all still there.
The towns constable, Gary and Leroy try not to get involved in those domestic squabbles if they possibly can avoid it 'cause they're so complicated when people who love each other get going at it. It's too complicated. You go into Pastor Ingvist’s house and you see there in the kitchen wall beside the refrigerator a hole in the wall that was obviously put there by a fist. I don't want to know about it. He'll get around to fixing it sooner or later. And when you hear about Clint Bunson going over to sleep on the couch in his brother Clarence’s house- I don't want to know about it. They'll work it out- Clint and Irene will work it out themselves- and if I know about it and take an interest in it, then Clint and Irene have to worry about me and what I think. And they got enough to worry about with themselves. So those of you out there who've been going at it this last week- saying cruel mean things- I take no interest in it. And consider yourselves forgiven. We all forgive you. The musicians forgive you. The producer of our show forgives you. This audience forgives you. You're forgiven. Don't think about it.
Including people in this audience, I can tell by looking at them just the way they sit. There are people in this audience sitting next to each other who've been on the outs this last week. Who hold themselves kind of stiff in their seats, you know. Leaning in the opposite direction. “I'm not really with him”. Oh Lord, it's complicated, but it's complicated living alone too. This is the time of year in Lake Wobegon when the Norwegian bachelor farmers start comin to town. Who all live by themselves, in their shacks with their dogs out there. And they come into town and they make their stop at the Sidetrack Tap and they sit alone at the bar, not talking to anybody. Tossing back a couple of whiskeys- 2-3-4 whiskeys. Until they're ready to say it, and they stand up and they kind of get their balance a little bit and they face everybody in the bar and they say “tell whicha. Tell whicha tellwhicha!” they say “tellwhicha I wouldn't live with you if you were the last person on Earth” and they go out the door. And if they think that people didn't hear em or get the full impact of their message, they say it again they say “tellwhicha, wanna live by myself”
It's kind of touching in a way. To see an old man in there in big bib overalls like balloon hanging on him. Old man with hair in his ears and tobacco juice on his chin who feels it necessary to tell us that he doesn’t like us and kinda renew the vows of bachelorhood there in full view of people, it's touching. Sometimes you'd like to go up and put your arms around them. Except of course that'd spoil it for them, wouldn't it? It's like my relatives in Lake Wobegon. They don't listen to this show. They make a point not to. They say “not going to listen to that show iI would only encourage him.” They turn the radio off smart when this show comes on. That's how I know they love me. And I love them. And I feel free to say it 'cause I know they're not listening.
In Lake Wobegon, Minnesota, where all the women are strong and all the men are good looking and all the children are above average, yes sir.
Minneapolis Star Jan 29 1981
1981.01.31 Philadelphia Inquirer