Friday, April 27, 2012

a prairie home companion

John Steinbeck, Cannery Row
A quote from one of my very favorite books, first read in Junior High, at which time the realness and gruffness of the characters shocked and intrigued me. Between Cannery Row and The Grapes of Wrath, Steinbeck may be my favorite author, and I am planning to have a bit of a Steinbeck summer for the weeks I am at home before England.
I am sitting on the couch in our bare-walled room before my final French class - the very last class of the year for me - and listening to old recordings of The Prairie Home Companion. I started listening to it on the radio as a little kid with my Dad, he would turn it on sometimes on a Saturday night and I would get lost more in the sounds of the voices than in the understanding of the stories. And then on Sunday mornings driving home from church I loved to sit in the back seat of the car with him while Mom was in Trader Joe's - he would turn on the radio and recline his seat and I would nod along to Guy Noir, Private Eye. 
Now it is funny to me, and I get the jokes about Minnesota and coffee and baptists and childhood, and I find myself chuffing and nodding like my Dad does as I listen, lulled.

Sketch of me, striped oxford shirt and little boots, ready for summer.

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