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Garrison Keillor| Detroit Free Press

I turn 80 in a few days, and its a good age. I dont think about my health, I am living proof that bad habits dont matter so long as you give them up soon enough. I am quite happy, a BuddhEpiscopalian who doesnt care about material things, though I do fart a lot. I dont sit around dreaming of what I might do someday. Someday is now, and what I shall do is enjoy it fully.

Nobody expects more of me; if I walk into a room and dont trip on the doorsill, Im admired for it. My wife starts talking about air conditioning, and then she sees me and says, But why am I talking to you about it? Im from the time when we cooled off by driving around with the windows open.

It was a good time, my time. Back in the country I grew up in, namely this one, men didnt go into schools and shoot little kids. We never imagined such a thing, and whats the reason? Fewer psychiatric medications? Fewer therapists?

No. If drugstores sold licorice-flavored cyanide in drinking glasses, wed see more of that. I plan to expire before the Supremes decide the Second Amendment guarantees the right to carry knapsacks of dynamite aboard airliners. Why should we give up our rights on the jetway?

On the other hand, I do admit there have been improvements: I was in the Detroit airport, Concourse A, the other day and a man sat at a real piano on a low platform and played music, a very graceful jazzer, nothing about mans downfall, very danceable, and I put a ten in his jar. It was worth it. It made me feel all cheery in the midst of a merch carnival to hear genuine individual talent. It reminded me of that country I grew up in, when more musicians worked the streets.

I wish hitchhiking would make a comeback. In my youth, I was picked up by various men, some of them drunk, and in return for the ride, I listened to whatever they wanted to tell me, which sometimes was a lot. A fair trade. It was an exercise in mutual trust.

Then the Seventies came along, when young men affected the derelict look, and when you look like an outlaw there are no free rides to be had, even if youre very nice down deep.

With age comes a degree of wisdom. You learn to choose your battles carefully and not expend anger on hopeless causes such as fairness and equality and getting your home nice and neat. My battle is against the words monetize and monetization. What tiresome phony weirdo words they are. Just say sell or cash in or earn a truckload of bucks from! Even exploit is better.

Monetize is an attempt to dignify with pseudo-techno-lingo the common ordinary money grubbing that we all do. Stick monetize up your Levis. I am going to the mat on this. I refuse to be friends with or share a cab with or sit on a plane next to a monetizer. Flight Attendant, take me back to Tourist, a middle seat next to weeping children would be preferable to listening to this idiot vocalize.

And now that I have demonetized you, dear hearts, let me move on to the next battle, which is to establish kindness and amiability among friends and strangers alike. I admit Im still happy about that cashier at Trader Joes who said, How are you today, my dear? It reminded me of a bygone time. She was, I believe, a woman and I am, to my way of thinking at least, a man though of course there is fluidity involved, and as we all know, the rules of social exchange between W and M have tightened, so I didnt ogle, I looked at my shoes and said simply, Never better. Which is inoffensive, though untrue.

I wanted to hug her and did not. My people werent huggers. We were Bible-believing Christians who avoided physical contact lest we contract the religious doubts of the embracee and who knows but what it could be true? My brother was a Bible believer who married a girl who then catholicized him. I could say more but I dont want to cause trouble.

Garrison Keillor is an author, singer,humorist,and radio personality. He hosted the nationally syndicated Minnesota Public Radioshow "A Prairie Home Companion" for 42 years.

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Garrison Keillor: The view from 80 - Detroit Free Press