I was always jealous of this genius, who could write new tuneful catchy melodies with trenchantly touching pungent lyrics and sing them each week to a wide-open public....but not only that of course, write incredible mellow stories of a world that we wish it could always be, and tell it in a voice that every boy or girl would want for a grandfather. I was so jealous I couldn't stand listening because he was so good. Perhaps as we all age and mellow and thicken a bit....I'm speaking of me... I will buy CDs or download old shows and listen in the aging home instead of watching all the movies I missed (of course, I was saving the whole series of TAXI for the old aging room....for I don't wish to spend it in the corridor. Anyway, Garrison's face was an absolute pleasure to sculpt, but his glasses caused me no end of grief, and I cursed in old Bergensk Norwegian the whole time, knowing the prairie folk wouldn't mind a bit.