I gave myself an early Christmas present yesterday and took my mom along to see Garrison Kellior perform his Christmas show with the Houston Symphony. It was a great performance. Not many people can stand in front of a full piece professional orchestra and humbly capture the audience's attention. But dressed in his suite and his signature red sneakers, Garrison made love to us all with his wonderfully melodic baritone voice. As I listened to Garrison tell his stories, read bit of poetry and lead the audience in the singing of carols, I found myself to be in awe. For price of admission, I had bought myself a slightly obscured view of a wonderful performance by one of America's great story tellers.
Over the years I have seen many writers compare Garrison and his style to that of to Mark Twain. Its seems like a good comparison, although I will admit that I have more knowledge of the works of Garrison than I do of Mark. They both seem to paint a picture of life as it is lived in the America they know in a way that gently holds a mirror up to the faces of their audiences that we might come to see themselves exactly as we are.
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