Musings

You never know, so it's good to pay attention

By Garrison Keillor

Published June 24, 2024

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I am a man in a bubble, walking the streets of New York, taking short views, smelling the flowers and the fragrance of hot dogs, leaving it to others to deal with the planet, the nation, the cognitive dissonance of everyday life, the media conspiracy to cover up the prophecies contained in the Dead Sea Scrolls, and I simply watch out for bicycles and scooters.

They are treacherous, ridden by libertarians who recognize no traffic laws. I cross the street on the Walk sign and an e-bike zooms silently past and through the red light without a "Sorry" or "Excuse me," and they are so agile, changing lanes, racing through narrow passages in traffic jams, they appear out of nowhere, inches away, and the man on foot is a sitting duck.

I've had a long interesting life and I'd like my obituary to take note of it. I don't want the most memorable line to be "Keillor was killed by a motor scooter racing down Amsterdam Avenue to deliver three platters of crudités for an LGBTQRST fundraiser at Symphony Space."

Life, as we all know, can change in an instant. Let me tell you a true story. The husband of a friend of ours was riding his bike to the vet's to pick up a prescription for his dog when, cruising down an avenue in Queens, he was struck by a car making a right turn on the red light (illegal in New York, but the driver was a young guy from Maryland).

The cops came. The husband, lying unconscious in the street, was taken to the hospital. The driver lied to the police and said the bicyclist ran into him. He returned to Maryland, untagged. The husband's leg was badly injured and after surgery he was hospitalized for five days. His daughter went to the police and pointed out the mistake in the police report. The police shrugged.

The false police report may mean that their health insurer will balk at the bill and a lawyer may be required to bring the jerk from Maryland to court and point out that the rear wheel of the bicycle was crushed and that the bicycle cannot be ridden backward. The outcome should be that the liar is held responsible for pain and suffering and legal fees and replacement of the bicycle.

But where do you find a lawyer willing to take the case? The new Yale Law graduate wants to take on big meaningful cases about environmental issues, women's rights, free speech, not a bike accident. And everyone knows that the N.Y.P.D., like any other bureaucracy, can protect itself by engaging in procedural detours and minutiae that would drive even a saint to despair. And the number of saintly lawyers is limited.

Life is precarious. So be watchful, look both ways, and if you're inspired to think large poetic thoughts, go to a park, don't think them while crossing a street.

An old man knows about precariousness. I've fallen several times in Manhattan, unexpectedly, and I'm 6'3" so it's a long way down, and each time, within four seconds, five people were standing over me, reaching down, asking, "Are you okay?" Not because I am a published author and a stand-up comedian, but because I am a human being. Nobody reached for my billfold to make sure of my citizenship.

I went to the Minnesota State Fair in 1963 and saw Buster Keaton's name listed on the afternoon variety show at the Grandstand and bought a ticket. I loved his movie stunts, the solemn face and the porkpie hat, Buster running from the cops and grabbing the railing of a speeding streetcar and being yanked to safety, Buster standing in the street as the wall of a house falls and an open window falls on him and he is untouched, Buster ducking under the two cops approaching with their nightsticks and they take a swing and knock each other out.

He was almost 70 when I saw him at the Fair, working with a stepladder and a stooge carrying a plank and absent-mindedly turning and whacking Buster, and the perfection of it stuck with me, the great dignity of the victim, the gracefulness of the tumble. Buster could've done the bicycle stunt but the car would've been a convertible and when it hit the bike, Buster would grab an awning and swing and land on the driver's shoulders, snatch his gold pocketwatch, and do a backflip onto the bike and turn sharp left.

Everyone likes a happy ending.

Garrison Keillor is an author and radio personality. His latest book is "Cheerfulness". Buy it at a 38% discount! by clicking here. Sales help fund JWR.