To me, one of the more fascinating things about folks who perform at the Opera House is their observations about visiting Maine and Boothbay Harbor in particular. People come from far and wide to our wonderful stage and, in many cases, for a first time visit to Maine. The experience of visiting here is interesting, in that these visitors offer us a view of ourselves from a unique vantage. In many cases, performers will arrive a day or so before they share their talents, which often results in some revealing experiences. Garrison Keillor did not disappoint in that regard. Maine is not your grandmother’s “Lake Wobegon!”

Mr. Keillor opened his evening talk show with a detailed description of his encounter with the Maine sacred dish, lobster. To say that his sharing about this experience was revealing would be quite an understatement. He told us that he preferred not to crack the head off, tear the legs from, or review the edible parts, so he figured it would be safe to try a lobster roll. He went on to compare the resulting 3 a.m. episode with the last time, some 20 years ago, that he got extremely intoxicated, vomited and stopped drinking for the rest of his present life. I guess it’s fair to say that lobster did not agree with him. I could relate, sort of. Once when my mother visited from Pennsylvania, we were all excited to create an extravagant feast consisting of shrimp, lobster and mussels. Round about 2 in the morning, I heard deep groaning from the bathroom just down the hall from our bedroom. Mother was sitting on the toilet with her hand on her forehead and head in the sink. She had a very serious allergic reaction to shellfish. I’m not sure that was for Mr. Keillor the same, or a similar experience, but it certainly made for an interesting tale.

Mr. Keillor was very upfront about his memory condition. He said that he knew that he had been to Boothbay Harbor last year but he couldn’t remember a thing about it, so this current evening he was spending with us, was quite an enjoyable first time. The full Opera House crowd roared with laughter and, once engaged, Mr. Keillor didn’t let up for a minute.   

We sang songs with him. We recalled growing up school stories about desks with wrought iron side fittings and teachers who cared enough to help a slow reader. We traveled to Mankato, Minnesota, remembering people we had known from there. From the moment Mr. Keillor climbed the stage stairs, he reminded us of who he was and where he’d been. Memories from a deep past bubbled forth as he paced from side to side across the width of the Opera House stage in his bright red sneakers and matching red tie.

It was a fun evening of listening without amplifiers and drums and multiple instruments. We enjoyed the sharing of his experiences and his self deprecating humor. He became 82 years old while visiting Maine and I think he felt that was totally acceptable, given all that he had become. He joked that his face was well suited for radio and his long term memory confirmed that his years have been full.

One of the funniest comments of the evening, I thought, was when he spoke about the process of eating a cooked lobster. He said (and I’m paraphrasing), “When I go to a restaurant or a Burger King to order a hamburger, I don’t expect to look out back of the kitchen to see a steer getting its head twisted off or its legs torn asunder. The burger comes nicely wrapped in tissue, exactly the same, no matter where I go.”

I guess I never really thought about that. But Mr. Keillor was quite adept at noticing the ordinary in the way things are done, completed or swept aside. His magic is plain as meatloaf and mashed potatoes, simply managed and gracefully delivered.