NOVEMBER 27, 2023
APHC, LUNCH, DINNER, AND A WEDDING
KENNEDY CENTER, WASHINGTON, D.C. – DECEMBER 10, 1994 / DOCKS OYSTER BAR, NYC – SOMETIME IN EARLY 1995/ST. MICHAEL’S EPISCOPAL CHURCH AND LA MIRABELLE, NYC – NOVEMBER 21, 1995
As the sell-out Kennedy Center crowd wound down its enthusiastic applause, the “ON THE AIR” sign on stage turned to “OFF THE AIR.” A recording of the show would preserve it for posterity, but for fans, guest performers, and production staff alike, that live episode of A Prairie Home Companion would join the rest of life’s experiences like a grain of sand on an ocean beach. For Garrison himself, however, it wasn’t so much a grain of sand as it was a glowing ember that in time would ignite a perpetual campfire on the beach of life.
The ember burst into flame several weeks later when the phone rang in Jenny’s tiny Upper West Side apartment. She was practicing for an upcoming gig and stopped abruptly before the second ring. As a free-lancer in a highly competitive market, Jenny was instinctively quick at answering what might be a call from a contractor lining up players for another gig.
“Hello?” she said, holding her violin and bow in one hand and the receiver in the other.
“Hello. Jenny? . . . This is Garrison Keillor and . . .”
“Oh, hi Garrison,” Jenny said, as she put her bow and fiddle down in the case on the small kitchen table.
“Yes, hi. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for lunch.”
“Lunch? I guess so, yeah. When were you thinking?
“Tomorrow maybe?”
“Yeah, that would work,” said Jenny. “Where should we meet?”
“I was thinking Docks Oyster Bar on Third Avenue between East Fortieth and Forty-first . . . Great seafood place . . . You like seafood?”
Jenny laughed. “I hate seafood,” she said, “except for shrimp.” She plunked herself down in the chair squeezed between the kitchen table and the window with a view of the fire escape.
“Oh,” said Garrison. “Well . . . maybe we should try something else.”
“No, no, no! Shrimp is fine, I mean a seafood restaurant is fine, I mean the shrimp there is probably really good, and obviously you like seafood . . .”
“. . . I just thought you might . . .”
“My dad really likes seafood,” said Jenny, accurately describing Dad’s affinity for sill, shrimp, sardines, oysters, scallops, and halibut.
“Are you bringing your dad?”
“No,” she giggled. “I don’t know why I said that. Seafood just reminded me of my dad.”
“Does that mean you don’t care for your dad?”
“No, no!” Jenny laughed, “I mean, yes, I do care for my dad, and he happens to like seafood, so when you mentioned seafood, I thought of my dad.”
“Oh. Well, the shrimp at Docks is good. I know. If you like shrimp, you’ll like the shrimp at Docks, but we could go somewhere else . . .”
“When should I meet you?”
“I’ll get a reservation for 11:45 so the shrimp will be fresh.”
“Okay, Garrison, I’m looking forward to it.”
“Good. See you there.”
“Can’t wait. ‘Bye now.”
* * *
The 11:45 lunch turned into a 2:00 dessert followed by tea starting at 3:00 and lasting till a round of cheese and gourmet crackers at 4:00 until it was time for vintage wine at 5:00, a splendid dinner at 6:00 and . . .
. . . a wedding at 11:00 a.m. on November 21 of the following year. Gathered inside the chapel of historic St. Michael’s Episcopal Church at 225 West 99th Street and Amsterdam on the Upper West Side of Manhattan were a small band of Keillors and Nilssons together with friends of the happy couple. With Philip Brunelle playing the piano accompaniment, Elsa gave everyone in attendance a prelude to heaven by her exquisite performance of Elgar’s Salut d’Amour.[1] The music emanated from the balcony of the main sanctuary of the magnificent church and filled the adjacent chapel where the rector presided over the marriage ceremony. A contagion of eye-watering swept through the crowd, sparing no one.
At the reception dinner that followed at La Mirabelle, Garrison’s friend and fellow writer/humorist, Roy Blount, Jr., gave pithy reflections ending with humor to bring everyone back down to earth:
. . . After 30 years of marriage the husband turned to the wife and said, ‘You know, there are two things that have always bothered me about you.’ To which the wife replied, ‘My dear, those are the two things that would make you a better husband.’
Juxtaposed to the divine experience of Elsa’s rendition of Salut d’Amour and Roy’s funny insight into married life, none of us could’ve imagined a third notable aspect of the wedding celebration: that it would one day lead back to the story of a dog more than 17 years dead and buried beneath a moss-covered cairn overlooking a lake a million miles away. (Cont.)
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© 2023 by Eric Nilsson
[1]Verbatim from my journal entry for 11/21/1995: “Elsa had selected the piece, which was a clever choice, given the opening words to Garrison’s opening song on every episode of A Prairie Home Companion: “Hello love!” I thought it was clever, and Andy Stein, another guest of the wedding and a regular on Garrison’s show, thought it was clever, but according to Elsa, Garrison reacted with a deadpan face. Either he honestly didn’t make the connection, which is hard to believe, or he made the connection but didn’t think it was at all clever, which is equally hard to believe. Well, anyway, be that as it may, it was the perfect piece. Elsa did a supreme job of it, and as I listened, positively enraptured by the melody, I felt as though I were in heaven. The musicians [Elsa and Philip] performed from the balcony of the main sanctuary, completely out of sight of us in the chapel. This circumstance only added to the miracle of the music. Each phrase soared into the vast chamber of the sanctuary and floated down upon our ears like a lily-white dove fluttering divinely. By the time the piece was over, scores of doves filled the church. It was an awe-inspiring experience and as much a treasure for us who heard it as it must have been for Elsa in playing it.”
