Garrison Keillor…I want your job!

Dear Garrison:

I heard recently that you will be retiring soon.  I am sad, like many of your fans.

But, I know how it is, the aging thing, you get tired.  I’m getting up there myself but I still have quite a few years until retirement and that is what brings me to this request.  I really do not think I’m up to the Saturday night spot, all that creativity in a week might be just a bit much for me to produce.

ships
like ships

The gig of yours I want is the morning show, The Writer’s Almanac.  I want to say:  “Good morning, today is February 9th, it is the birthday of….”

I like to research, I like to write, and this would be a great gig for me (oh, and I’m a big talker too).   I’ve two puppies, well I guess they will be dogs when you retire, and I like a little extra time with my husband.  I have some good qualifications you might be interested in:  I helped a famous scientist with his memoirs and I was a social studies teacher for ten years.  I like poetry and history and love all things about writing.  But I regret to say I may not have just the right credentials:  I have two Masters Degrees, one in Education and the other in Communications.  But alas, I do not have a PhD. and I do not have an MFA.  I know those are often the admission tickets to a job like yours but hey, I thought I’d give it a shot.

As those darling young folks say:  You rock Garrison.  I know I could not replace you, but I could fill your spot for a little while.  All best, and here is a poem  for today…

written about life, but more specifically, life in Ithaca, NY.  A great place to live if you do not like to fly…the world comes to you, but it also moves on.  Inspired by the accompanying painting and for dear friends, some  long over the horizon and others  at the liminal edge.

‘Just passing through, Ithaca.’

ships moor together three

bask in sunshine, sway & dip on moving water

hang, frozen on a peg of space & time

until the journey ends

& as they look forward & backward

their births in sight

until a new port, a blind horizon, moves them farther

and farther out of each other’s sight.

@claireaperez@gmail.com

The day I saw Moby

 

Moby & Macadew....puppies
puppies are looking up

there he was, sitting behind the glass with his 2 brothers.  He was wearing a red collar and my husband, a very observant man, said…”he is the one, look how alert he is?”  36 hours later he said, after we first arrived home with Moby and his brother, Macadew, that “maybe the little black dog will have to go, he is very hyper.”  The dog, Moby, is fine, we were just tired.

Since bringing him home, Mody has been a joy to watch.  A little puppy, he will suddenly stop and sit upright and just slowly move his head left and right scanning the scene.  He sits regally in his red collar and once in a while tips his head back and his nose up to smell.  I like his attitude, calm, observant, not much commentary (barking ) unless something unusual hits an eardrum.

I chuckle  when they, Moby and Macadew, look out at the back yard. It’s all new and wondrous to them and in our anthropomorphic minds, we hear them saying:  Wow, someday soon, all this running space will be ours, chasing rabbits, lying under the trees on a sunny day.

We think of Phoebe often, our beautiful boxer , who died too young.  A cause never ascertained, I have managed with the help of  friends to see that dogs will be dogs and we can’t protect them from all the forces that face them, just like people.

But what I’m learning now is that a  good healthy day, is a good healthy day, sit quietly and watch and be grateful.

 

©claireaperez@gmail.com