At one point in his latest book, Pontoon, Garrison Keillor recites “Sunshine in the Night: A History of the Electrification of Lake Wobegon and Environs”, a locally epic saga by a semi-retired utility executive who wiles his days away composing:

• The glimmering lights of the little town
• Shone like a beacon for miles around
• To many a farmhouse in the gloom
• And folks who sat in shadowy room
• And tried to read by kerosene lamp
• Like soldiers in some foreign camp
• Cast their eyes to Lake Wobegon
• And dreamed that the swift advancing dawn
• Of modern times would reach them soon
• And turn their midnight into noon.

Indeed, all the folks down at the Chatterbox Café have a stake in keeping the juice flowing, and Keillor indirectly admits to having his own proprietary interest:

• The glory that was radio
• Bringing opera and quiz show
• With the turn of a dial
• And comedians to make you smile.

But tragedy befalls our Prairie Homer, who having “slipped and struck his head on a bathroom appliance”, lived out the rest of his days in delirium, penning the final lines:

• Dark shadows hover near, unseen.
• Men cannot fathom what they mean.
• They are the shadows of the wings of that dark visitor who brings
• Death to you and me,Despite all electricity.
• No device, however grand, can halt his step or stay his hand –Not light nor warmth nor radio wave
• Can slow our progress to the grave.