Welcome to Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, all the

Garrison Keillor once opened his beloved radio tales with the immortal line: “Welcome to Lake Wobegon, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.” What appears, at first, as a gentle jest about a small, idealized town is, in truth, a mirror held up to the heart of humanity. In this single sentence, Keillor captures both our yearning for excellence and our blindness to humility. The people of Lake Wobegon are not exceptional in reality—they are simply human, longing to believe that their lives are special, that their struggles and virtues rise above the ordinary. The humor conceals wisdom: we all live in our own Lake Wobegon, crafting illusions of perfection to protect the fragile pride of the human soul.

In the ancient tongue of philosophy, this would be called the myth of self-flattery—the tendency of mankind to see itself through a kindly mirror. From the dawn of civilization, humans have sought comfort in believing they are chosen, gifted, or unique. The Athenians thought themselves more rational than all other Greeks. The Romans called themselves bringers of civilization to barbarians. Each people, like the citizens of Lake Wobegon, believed that their women were stronger, their men braver, their children wiser. Keillor, through gentle satire, exposes this timeless truth: that the illusion of superiority is woven deeply into human nature. Yet, he does not condemn—it is not mockery but compassion. For in this illusion lies the dream that keeps ordinary hearts alive.

The origin of this quote comes from Keillor’s fictional creation of Lake Wobegon—a mythical Midwestern town featured on his radio program A Prairie Home Companion. It is a place untouched by time, both idyllic and absurd, where everyone believes in their own virtue and no one dares question the narrative. This town, though imaginary, reflects a universal reality: the human desire for significance in a vast and indifferent world. In Keillor’s America, Lake Wobegon stands as both comfort and critique—a reminder that while faith in oneself can sustain, it can also deceive.

History, too, offers examples of this dual truth. Consider the Victorian Age, when Britain, at the height of its empire, believed itself the moral and intellectual center of the world. Its poets and politicians proclaimed their destiny to “civilize” others, blind to the arrogance that fueled their conquests. Like the proud citizens of Lake Wobegon, they saw only their strength and goodness, forgetting that true greatness lies not in self-congratulation but in self-awareness. Yet it is this very pride—both the source of folly and the engine of progress—that drives civilization forward. The lesson is not to scorn the illusion, but to see it clearly, and thus master it.

Keillor’s humor, wrapped in warmth, reminds us of a paradox: we all wish to be above average, but in that very wish, we become human together. To desire goodness, beauty, and strength is not vanity alone—it is aspiration. What is sad is not the dream, but the blindness that refuses to admit imperfection. The wise among us, like the philosophers of old, learn to laugh gently at their own illusions while still striving to better themselves. To know one’s limits and still reach for the heavens—that is the nobility hidden beneath Keillor’s satire.

There is tenderness, too, in his vision. For the people of Lake Wobegon are not villains of pride, but keepers of hope. Their belief in their own decency sustains them through hardship. Their conviction that their children are “above average” reflects the parent’s eternal faith in the future. Their strength and goodness, though imagined, are the soul’s armor against despair. In this sense, Keillor’s line becomes not merely irony, but affection—a celebration of the quiet resilience of ordinary people who, despite their flaws, keep believing in their worth.

So let this teaching be remembered: laughter is wisdom disguised in joy. To see ourselves in the people of Lake Wobegon is to confront our pride with mercy. Let us strive, yes, to be strong, beautiful, and wise—but let us also remember that humility is the light that keeps strength from becoming arrogance, and hope from becoming delusion. As Keillor reminds us, we live not in a perfect world, but in a hopeful one—and it is that very hope, fragile yet enduring, that makes humanity not “above average,” but deeply, beautifully human.