It's Never Too Late to be Normal

lifeinminnesota.com

I know something about elitism, having grown up in the exclusive Sanctified Brethren — we refused to commune with 99.85% of Christendom, we looked down on Baptists, Anglicans, you name it, we found fault with them all, and if a Lutheran guy made off with one of our young women, we forced ourselves to attend the wedding though it was actually a funeral. And then I got a job in public radio where I got to see elitism from below. I was a mere entertainer in the midst of serious journalists and scholars, and I was seriously looked down upon by many people whom income from my show was supporting. But then parents of teenagers have gone through the same thing and survived and I did too.

I sort of regret that I didn’t become truly elite when
Minnesota almost became part of New France, this territory having been “discovered” by French explorers, and France battled the English for dominance here but then Louis XV was more interested in sugar from the Caribbean than fur from the North and so he withdrew and Voltaire said, “All we lost was a few acres of snow.” This remark still stings, centuries later. We could’ve grown up speaking French and saying “Joie de vivre” with real élan and “Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.” and “C’est la vie” instead of saying “Well, that’s life,” which doesn’t have anything like the savoir faire of “C’est la vie.” And with “C’est la vie,” you don’t need to stick the “well” in front of it to sound casual.

French is an elegant language and we envy it, and if a fellow American tosses off a French phrase such as “S’il vous plaît,” we see him as an elitist and take it as a cue to drop our own pretensions and admit that we don’t like boeuf bourguignon nearly so much as we like meatloaf, that a French label does not make the wine superior.

What brings this to mind is the new movie, “A Complete Unknown,” which gives Bob Dylan fans the chance to be even more fascinated by their own obsession about the man, as a poet, prophet, visionary genius, and the Voice of a Generation, but to me, a Minnesotan of his era, it’s all rather amusing. We knew plenty of male undergraduates in the Sixties who practiced being oblique and self-contradictory and affected mystery. It was a style. There was one at every party in Minneapolis, sometimes two and then one of them had to leave. They wanted to be considered poets, prophets, geniuses, but you need more than ambiguity.

The Prophet Bob didn’t get where he got by being cryptic, he practiced some classic Minnesota virtues such as steady hard work — no writer’s block for Bob — and industrious touring and being on time for gigs and avoiding addictive substances that make you stupid and then dead, and also tolerating jerks, including ones who love you.

He had to work to become iconic — in some of his early recordings he sounds a lot like Ray Benson of Asleep at the
Wheel and he had to learn how to sing through his nose so he could be a Bob instead of a Ray and there he is today, a self-invented object of fascination. Minnesotans are not big on fiction though. There probably are people in Hibbing who think, “If Zimmerman had really applied himself, he could’ve become a terrific neurologist.”

As I proceed through my eighties, I go back to a Minnesota point of view: life is complicated, take it one day at a time, the urge to be top dog is not a useful ambition, be grateful for what you have and learn to cherish your portion. As the French would say, “Carpe diem.”

The lust for world domination does not make for the good life. It’s the life of the male raccoon who battles for preeminence and winds up in a ditch being pecked at by crows. It’s not for sensible people. Be at peace, read books, cherish your friends, take walks, love life until the first coronary walks up and slugs you in the chest. Charisma is pure fiction, and so is brilliance. It’s the dummies who sit on the dais, and it’s the smart people who sit in the dark near the exits.

I had to make many mistakes to learn all that and now I’ve saved you the trouble of doing likewise. You’re welcome. God bless.

Garrison Keillor © 01.06.25