The Morning Show


The morning was about endings.  I was trying to find 2 names in the obits, in the local news, to know more about a death.  The bad thing about obits was they never always told you how the death happened.  I was wanting to know more.  About the end.  Over what was sacred.  Newspapers.  Sports.  Music.  News.  It was about the common bond.  Cheering for the home team.  The news thereof. 

Mortar.  As found in brick.  The Morning Show.  Neal and Leandra.  “I am rich. You’ve given me your name.  You call my name.  More than my wildest dreams.  This wasn’t what I expected.  I always wanted more….let the world go on believing….the world can dry up all my dreams.  Your love is the water…I waded into….the holiest of streams.  More than my wildest dreams.  Rich beyond…my dreams.  I am rich. I am rich.” 

“The Morning Show” on Minnesota Public Radio.  A newspaper near you.  The end was coming, to an institution which was I had loved as part of the routine. 

Peace in my life.  Worry how long there will be peace.  The birds never worried.  The dog doesn’t worry.  You only had to read the news about Somalia and the pirates there, to know that peace was owed to something.  Law that for the most part that was honored.  Law was supposed to be moral.  Thus the fight over Roe V. Wade.  Over gay marriage.  Over what was moral.  Over what was sacred.  There were armies that fought for belief in moral law.  There was a police force here to maintain the order.  In Greece, there seemed to be a question about how moral every day life has been. 

Newspapers read on-line.  It was a lot like hearing Neal and Leandra, those local performers.  People were looking for a free lunch even in the days before unemployment.  Like in 2004 when the financial industry was said to have made 30% of all profits on Wall Street, when nothing was broke.  As Leandra wrote about performing at Lake Harriet in Minneapolis this year: 

“Financial reality. The Minneapolis Park & Rec Department stopped paying performers over 10 years ago. We continued doing the concerts because we knew our audience loved the venue and the Park & Rec helped us pay for the mailing we would send. They stopped doing that a couple of years ago, so the past few years we have been paying to play at the bandshell hoping to offset the expense with CD sales. Last year with the rain, we got soaked. Literally, too!”   

Mortar.  As found in brick.  When it is gone.  “The Morning Show” was a show that started 40 years ago.  This was where Garrison Keillor got his start and moved on.  When I tuned in by chance at 7 am there was Greg Brown who, with his own special lyrics seems to have redone the Crosby, Stills & Nash  “Long Time Gone” song, asking the question “What good is the radio without you?” Baseball scores.  Wanting more.  When it poured. It was the end.  I had first tuned in by chance in the mid-1990s.  It was now the end.  Unless you had high definition radio.  Whatever that was.  This was hearing Etta James 15 years ago.  Irish music before the Celtic tiger.  Neal and Leandra, of “Old Love” fame.  Where the song was first played.

The kindness.  The morning kindness. Dale Connelly and Tom Keith (with a stage name of Jim Ed Poole) had brought a unique blend of music and personality and kindness to “The Morning Show.”  Minnesota Public Radio had canceled the show with Tom Keith’s retirement from “The Morning Show.”   He will keep working as the sound-effects guy for “A Prairie Home Companion.”  Connelly will continue with an online version.  This was not a rainout. 

Peter Mayer:  “Everything Is Holy Now.”  A musician looking for the perfect piece to play.  When someone writes a song about your show’s end.  That was humbling to listen to.  It was love.  Endings.  For long-time entertainment, endings were bittersweet.  Contraction.  Loss.  Of what seemed mundane.  There was an insignificance of the significant.  Until it was over.  The audience.  The human animal not knowing how to react.  To the bittersweet.  Laughter like always.  

Neal and Leandra, and their lyrics this morning at 8 am:  “You brighten up everything I do.  Walk out that door….whatever you do.  The joy that is you.  My world is still up.  ‘The Morning Show.’  From all I’ve been through….the joy that is you.  ‘The Morning Show.’  I feel joy…all that I see.  The stream….the beautiful stream.  The joy…the dream…that was you. They’re smiling too…for the joy that is you.”  

            

(http://www.publicbroadcasting.net/kumd/arts.artsmain?action=viewArticle&pid=392&sid=14&id=1174184)  

         

Songs without lyrics.  Where the strings did the talking.  Of the sorrow.  Of the joy.  And the audience sat dumbfounded by the subtleness of the chords. 

         

“You are my sunshine…..”  The thought that went into the final song.  The thank you’s.  The music.  The audience.  The bond.   We are out of time.  …don’t take my sunshine away.” 

 

The sadness of endings:  Why does the sun go on shining?  Why does the sea rush the shore?  Why do the birds go on singing?  What do the stars glow above?  Don’t they know it’s the end of the world?  I wake up in the morning wondering.  Why —everything was the same it was.  I can’t understand.  No I can’t understand, how life goes on the way it was. 

 

A song about endings…. The way life goes on the way it does.  Why does my heart go on beating….it ended when you said ….good bye.  Everything is the same it was.  Don’t they know it is the end of the world? 

Endings.  Rembrances.  A real weeper, at the end. Looking for burial places. 

Dealing with change.  A bit of mortar in the Minnesota day, as found in the brick, had become loose.   At the foundation called morning. 

http://minnesota.publicradio.org/radio/programs/morning_show/

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