Garrison Keillor

Life among the Lutherans

Fiction

“Excerpts "Here in the Midwest, we all have long memories of suffering and pain, because, for one thing, winter is so long, and when finally it gets warm and beautiful as it is now, finally—the last ice went out last week—we try to relieve these painful memories of cold, of neglect, of suspicion, darkness, anger, bologna sandwiches, stupidity, butterscotch pudding—we try to heal ourselves by subjecting ourselves to intensely pleasurable experiences—mindless pleasure in the sun while wearing as few clothes as possible—sand, air, water, sun, grass, gin—but we were not brought up to experience pleasure. It doesn't register on us. It's like trying to write on glass with a pencil. We get into as few clothes as possible and the sight of ourselves depresses us. Sunlight makes us gloomy. We are not Mediterranean people. We're Lutheran people. Even the Catholics up here are Lutheran. And I don't like to generalize about Lutherans, but one thing that's true of every single last one of them without a single exception is that the low point of their year is their summer vacation."”