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Here are tales of love fumbled and recovered. Keillor tells us about the perils of fame, death, the subway, and of traveling with teenage children; of the dire fate awaiting America's smokers; of the moral qualities of orchestral instruments. And he writes of the pleasures of attending an Episcopal church, writing a letter, visiting Gettysburg, being named a sexy man by Playgirl, shooting baskets, baking his first pie, sitting on a porch, and being nineteen... A series of domestic verses embraces a touching elegy "In Memory of Our Car, Ralph," a poem on the joys of peeing, and other about postponing childhood mischief. Including pieces that have never appeared in print before, this is Garrison Keillor at his very best.
