There were too many fun things to do over the Memorial Day holiday to waste time thinking about security. One of those fun things was going to see Garrison Keillor and Prairie Home Companion at Wolf Trap. Oddly enough, it appears there is going to be PHC movie - could it mean that after all these years, the show will jump the shark?
I doubt it - Garrison Keillor is pretty impressive in person and a fantastic writer. Here is "A Note From The Host" from the program for the PHC show at Wolf Trap:
This show is a re-creation of my own jumbled memories of radio shows I heard on a floor-model Zenith receiver in Brooklyn Park, north of Minneapolis, around 1948, when I was six and my family lived in a basement my dad built in a cornfield, in loamy clay, and I, the baby of the family, had been eclipsed by the birth of twin brothers who sucked every particle of adult attention out of the air, much as if Roy Rogers and Trigger had come to live with us, and at this critical moment, people on the radio became my chums. I clutched that old Zenith like a life raft. They were so wonderful, Irma and Luigi and Fibber and Molly and Tom Mix ("Shredded Ralston for your breakfast starts the day off shining bright") and Jack Benny and Cedric Adams and Arthur Godfrey, and thus a seed is planted.
The radio had a big round dial and a tuning knob the size of a bagel and it gave off heat and a rich warm sound with bass reverberations that came up through the floor, so that when you lay on your stomach listening to Gene Autry sing on Melody ranch you could feel good vibrations in your stomach. For a number of years, my parents were barely aware of my existence, and sometimes they called me Larry or Harry or Murray, and there were Christmases when I could see that my presents had been hurriedly assembled a few minutes before - a pair of socks (wrong size), a used book, some fruit, some small coins taped to a Christmas card with the original signature erased - but thanks to radio I maintained a sunny outlook (sort of), and years later, having graduated from college with a degree in English, casting about for something to do that people would pay me for, I found this beloved old institution. And thanks for coming to see it today.
That's good writing. I guess I identify with it - as I kid I asked a local radio/TV repair shop if they had any junk radios I could have. They did - and that (plus a seriously misguided guidance counselor in high school) is what started me on the path to the career I have now. You can't tell your kids this, but life is pretty much just random serendipity.
I guess right now some 12 year kid is laying on the floor in front of his PS2 with the plasma screen, listening to some podcast and storing up some serendipity points that will pay off later on. He will either be the guy that creates the next big thing 10 years from now, or maybe the gal that hacks the next big thing then. I wonder which way he (or she) will go?