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Read other letters about this article
Surprising no one noticed the connection, or lack of it, between former Salon advice columnist GK's approach to the world and that of present advisor Cary Tennis, who seems to feel things aren't right unless everyone is strapped in to the neighborhood Twelve Step program.
No wonder this column spawned such a wave of grateful nostalgia, given the psychologic of the last many years: everyone is broken, in need of lifetime therapy, and those who think they aren't just haven't realized it yet.
I was surprised to see how many other writers, like myself, don't have children, at least in part because of concern they'd be arrested for trying to raise them sanely. I remember when kids fought for the privilege of riding shotgun, and know from experience that there's no better time for a parent-child talk. Anyone today who tried talking to a backward facing, backseat riding child would risk the fate of the parents in "The Da Vinci Code."
And what about the once oft-quoted '70s aphorism, "Children should run naked in the sun, and adults should study the mysteries of the Universe." Children? Naked? Sun? Try studying the mysteries of the Universe from the inside of a jail cell, buddy.
But mostly, I'm nostalgic for Keillor, who did some of his finest writing as Salon's advice columnist. I read "Love Me," and was disappointed it wasn't more like his column. As we're unlikely to see that again, we can read the archives, and hope for more like this article.
In the meantime, here's some more advice: Deal with your problems, or learn to live with them. You'd be surprised what you can live with. What ever you do, don't give in to this whining, everbroken, ever badly medicated existence so earnestly advocated by Tennis and his behaviorist friends. Relax. Take a walk. Look up at the sky. And, when you come back, join Keillor in a martini. Not one of those sweety things. A real one. With the good gin.
