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Essay    li y

How to Break the Political Fevcr

A tnie bclicver offers advice for life after Nov. 2—espccially if your man loses By GARRISON KEILLOR Nov. 1, 2004

Politics doesn't comc naturally to mc. I donthave the old savoir foire. I have a chiliy dcmcanor and a long, sad face that comcs from growing up among good people who told mc I was going straight to heli. J’m not a salesman cheerful certainty makes me uncasy. Nonctheless, last winter, moved by a sense that the bcloved country' is in peril, T put asidc other projccts, wrote a political book, knocked on doors and handed out literaturę (now I know how Jehovah’s Witncsses feel), donated a bucket of money and stood up and madę stump speeches about the disastrous regime in power, its morał bankruptcy and arrogance. Now, on clcction evc, I face up to the fact tliat one man will lose and limp away to join the ranks of noble loscrs (Eugcne V. Dcbs, Barry' Goldwater, Gcorgc McGovern) while the other one grins and waves and elcmcntary schools arc named after him. So what happens ncxt? The winners smirk and gloat, of course, but what do the loscrs do?

1)    Join the winning party

2)    Curse the darkucss

3)    Movc to Vancouver

4)    Take up the sins of tlić flesh, all of them, not lcaving out a single one

5)    Brood, connive, conspirc

A year of passion has come to a boil. Every morning my emailbox is fuli of forwardcd political diatribes and manifestos. I order a sign, 4 ft. by 6 am actually going to stand by the side of the road and hołd it, thafs how nuts I am. I tako my face to a suburb wherc Dcmocrats arc a sort of alien lifc-form. and 1 stand on a bencli on a deck in the dark and talk to 80 people shivering in the cold like boat refugees, and I cxcoriate and extol and exEiort in uplifting cadcnccs about this evil war, tłie miscrablc cconomy that is bringing back the 60-hr. workweck and the folks who don't mind this war so long as their kids don't havc to fight it. Aftcrward we hobnob in the kitchen and cnjoy a littlc solidarity around coffcc and fudge bars, but as I drive home, tlie car wants to head west out across the prairie, toward the wilderness. away from newspapers and TV and politics, to a cabiti, a lakę, a boat, a bed, a firc. a book, wherc 1 could get this noisc out of my head. There arc littlc towns out therc where a person could walk around and get leaf smokc up tire nostrils and that could pretty wcll elear the head.

Some in my family arc cxchanging fiery c-mails, with hardjaggcd sentences IN ALL-CAPITAL LETTERS SO THE POINT IS NOT MISSFJ), and Scriptnre is quoicd and also Mark Tw^rain, the elitist liberał baby killers vs. tlić Brownshirt storni troopers NONĘ SO BLEND AS '1TIOSE WMO WILL NOT SF-E and what will comc of all this on Nov. 3? Sonic will pick up the morning paper and savc it for a souvenir, and the otliers will wrap up the garbage in it.

What will reconcilc us is what has always restored our sanity, and that is the plain pleasurcs of the physical world, our common love of coffcc, the worlcl of apples, tlie movcmcnts of birds, tire livcs of dogs, tlie touch of skin. Musie. Dancing to musie. Shooting baskets. Shooting conservativeIy, scoring liberally. Lacing up our skates, gliding through tlie dusk. Having worked ourselvcs into a fcver over tlie futuro of Western civilization, we will now begin cnjoying our oatmeal again, with raisins, chopped apricots and honey from bces that grazed in mcadows of clovcr. Tlie bcauty of engagement is disengagcinent. You simply put on your jackct and walk out the door and find good liealth. Tlicrc is no fcvcr that a 10-niile hikc can't cure.

Twenty ycars ago, I gave up TV, and now I am going to take a sabbatical from tlie news and livc in tlie inmicdiate worlcl. The neighbors arc expecting a baby girl. My daughter is taking up tlie cello. My mother is garnę for morc Scrabble. There is wood to be cut in the family woodlot. l've been a prisoner of the New York Times and have read enough for a while and want to get loose. Ncxt weck I'm out of here. And maybe the Prcsident is too. Crawford, Texas, is a fine place. A man could nevcr weaiy of the wonders to be found tłiere.