Garrison is by far my favorite writer on this site. His postings are insightful and fun. I always find something I enjoy greatly and remember for days. His latest on Thanksgiving was on the mark as usual. By far the best lines was, "Or Google, which can bring up 2.3 million references in .03 seconds, none of which sheds light on the subject, but they distract you so that instead of writing about "The Mill on the Floss" by George Eliot, you get interested in dental hygiene." He always nails the obvious fact that seems to dangle in front of our noses yet we never realize it.

I don't even know what compelled me to write this but the above quote made me laugh so hard I had to immediately put down my cup o' noodles lest I spill them on myself. That's the best compliment I can give him. Bravo Garrison!

Garrison Keillor is one of my favorite writers, and radio-personality/host. I am so thankful for hearing his show on the radio, and once again reading his columns here on Salon.

I have shared some of the "Minnesota experience" with Garrison. In the early '70s, my husband and I and our 3 little boys lived on a farm in Minnesota (a disaster for me, a native Californian). So I deeply appreciate the stories of "Lake Wobegon": Been there, done that!

I don't know if Mr. Keillor ever hears the feedback on his pieces. As the daughter of a Lutheran minister in a small north Idaho hamlet, "A Prarie Home Companion" was a bigger part of my life than is probably healthy.

I moved to New Mexico six months ago to begin my career as a political reporter. I spent the morning of Thanksgiving alone in a car on my way up to a small town for a story. To shut out the nagging sense of melancholy, I played the Kohler Thanksgiving piece. You know, the one about the creamed onions. I actually teared up a little when Barb and her sons were dragged to the hall and forced to eat.

I can't complain, when you're a Thanksgiving orphan, everyone feels compelled to extend an invitation with a "don't bring anything but yourself, poor dear" admonition. I ate twice this year.

But the Kohlers and Rollerball pens is what it's really all about. I love that a holiday exists where one's responsibilities include eating too much food containing socially acceptable tranquilizers and telling your loved ones you're thankful they exist.

So, Mr. Keillor, thanks for providing the soundtrack to my long stretches of lonely highway, thanks for writing about Rollerball pens and newspapers, and thanks for being thankful.

I really need a good recipe for creamed onions.