I know something about elitism, having grown up in the exclusive sanctified brethren,

who refused to commune with 99.85% of Christendom, who looked down on Baptists and Anglicans,

you name it, we found fault with them. And if a Lutheran guy made off with one of our young

women, we forced ourselves to attend the wedding, although

it felt more like a funeral. And then I got a job in public radio, where I got to see

elitism from below.

I didn't fit in public radio.

I was an entertainer.

I was there in the midst of serious journalists and scholars, and I was looked down upon by many people who income from my show was supporting, paying their rent.

But then parents of teenagers have, you know, come through the same thing, and they survived, and I did too.

I sort of regret that I didn't become truly elite when Minnesota almost became part of New France.

This territory having been discovered, in quotes, by French explorers.

And France battled the English for dominance in the Midwest, but then Louis XI was more interested

in sugar from the Caribbean than fur from the north, and so he withdrew.

And Voltaire said all we lost was a few acres of snow, which kind of a cruel remark centuries

later.

No, we could have grown up speaking French in Minnesota and sang Joieade-viv with real elin and place a change, plus

it's the same, Chasse, and Cé levy, instead of saying, well, that's life, which doesn't have anything quite like the Savois fare of

Cé-Livé.

And with Cé-Lé-Lé-L-E, you don't need to stick the well in front of it, sound casual.

Now, French is an elegant language, and we of it. Sound casual. Now French is an elegant language and we envy it. And if a fellow

American tosses off a French phrase such as Silbu play, we see him as an elitist and we take

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