Garrison Keillor (born August 7, 1942 in Anoka, Minnesota) is best known as the founder and host of the Minnesota Public Radio show A Prairie Home Companion. Keillor's trademark storyline is the weekly News from Lake Wobegon monologue, a fictional town somewhere in Minnesota "where all the women are strong, all the men are good looking, and all the children are above average."
Keillor's work includes:
- Lake Wobegon Days (1985 ISBN 0140131612)
- We Are Still Married
- Wobegon Boy
- Radio Romance
- The Book of Guys
- Lake Wobegon Summer 1956
- Leaving Home
- Illness offers the chance to think long thoughts about the future (praying that we yet have one, dear God), and so I have, and so this is the last column of Mr. Blue, under my authorship, for Salon.
- Over the years, Mr. Blue's strongest advice has come down on the side of freedom in our personal lives, freedom from crushing obligation and overwork and family expectations and the freedom to walk our own walk and be who we are. And some of the best letters have been addressed to younger readers trapped in jobs like steel suits, advising them to bust loose and go off and have an adventure. Some of the advisees have written back to inform Mr. Blue that the advice was taken and that the adventure changed their lives. This was gratifying.
- So now I am simply taking my own advice. Cut back on obligations: Promote a certain elegant looseness in life. Simple as that. Winter and spring, I almost capsized from work, and in the summer I had a week in St. Mary's Hospital to sit and think, and that's the result. Every dog has his day and I've had mine and given whatever advice was mine to give (and a little more). It was exhilarating to get the chance to be useful, which is always an issue for a writer (What good does fiction do?), and Mr. Blue was a way to be useful. Nothing human is beneath a writer's attention; the basic questions about how to attract a lover and what to do with one once you get one and how to deal with disappointment in marriage are the stuff that fiction is made from, so why not try to speak directly? And so I did. And now it's time to move on.