Why do I feel so nostalgic this morning? Possibly because I saw one of these while reading the news. I’ve always loved the look of a ’65 Mustang. And now that they’re bringing that classic look back, well, here I am, wanting one. Please send it to me. Rat Fink, Finkleman Street, Finkville. And please fill up the back seat with these. And these.

Seriously, fiends. I don’t ask you for much.

Dad’s toy

I remember, as a kid, seeing Mustangs and thinking they were the coolest, sleekest things — almost as fantastic as the powder blue ’63 Pontiac Tempest convertible Dad drove. I have a distinct memory of this car: Mavis and I lying down in the back seat (circa 1965, before the days of seat belt laws), watching the stars go by on a warm Sunday evening drive home from Grandma’s house. Good times.

I don’t know when the Tempest left us, or what happened to it. I’m sad I never asked while our folks were alive. There’s a blank space in my car memories until 1971, when Dad — obviously a Pontiac man — drove home in this beauty – a brand new Pontiac Catalina. And yes, I’m being sarcastic.

Thank the gods, we never owned a station wagon. At least I don’t *think* we did. Everyone at the time was buying the soon-to-be-ubiquitous Town & Country-style “woodies.” Thank you, no. (However, I did run across a rather funky update on the theme. Fun.)

Our parents threw down a hundred bucks for this gem, which was nowhere close to the shape of the one in the picture, I might add. All I remember is rust, and doors that were almost impossible to open, as each one weighed 6,000 lbs. I was embarrassed to ride in it, and it was about as dependable as a screen door on a submarine. I remember getting sick at school one day (I came down with a bad stomach bug, and the nausea was so bad, I asked my teacher for the bathroom pass, but didn’t make it to the door before passing out; I woke up seconds later with a shoe missing and my arm in the garbage can…humiliating), and Mother couldn’t get the dang car started, so my principal had to drive me home. More humiliation.

I’ll bet you have some fun family car memories. Or maybe some of the not-so-fun, don’t make me stop this car variety. We had those experiences, too.

Happy Sunday!

When it’s been almost two weeks since I last spoke to you, you know stuff is going down. Between DT rehearsals and the war that is turning into nothing short of a national civil rights issue, I’ve been dragging it up to bed early every night, and out early the next morning. Haven’t seen my grandsons in forever, and 21 days out from my show, the cracks are starting to spider out. Time for some Sunday rehearsals.

February made me shiver, and not just because it was the coldest one on record.

But here’s to a brighter March. My cast will improve; it’s always rough during the last three weeks. I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever done a show that hasn’t included the standard weeping and gnashing of teeth for a full month before opening. Not sure that scenario has ever existed — although I will admit I wouldn’t mind experiencing it. We’ve sold 600 tickets at this writing; I hope the 15th anniversary is a success. I’m looking forward to seeing some old cast and crew members, and taking pictures.

The anti-testing fight rages on. And when I say “rages,” I mean there’s plenty of rage — from both sides. It’s become ugly on several fronts, but we must stay the course. We’re making progress, but no huge policy change ever happens without a long, protracted fight. And that’s what this is, believe you me.

I have an appointment today, so I’m not in school at the moment. It’s nice to sleep in until 6:15 and take your time with coffee and reading. And writing to you. I’ve missed you here!

Happy weekend, fiends.

RF, weary warrior