So I went to a play on a recent Friday night. Most of you would not have guessed I am a theater buff. I even had the male lead in our fifth grade class production of Clementella, a very clever country-western version of Cinderella. Then again, I only got the lead role because my friend Matt (who won the role on an actual merit basis) got cold feet about a week before opening night (which was also closing night; also it was in the afternoon). I think the teacher chose me to replace him because among the kids without speaking roles I had absorbed by osmosis the most dialogue. I’d feel bad that my short-term memory skills won me the role instead of my acting ability, except I’m pretty sure Jimmy Stewart got his start that way.

Regardless, it was my interest in theater that led me to a local production of Bye Bye Birdie.  And also Laura told me we were going because it was performed by students at the high school where she works.

The kids did a fantastic job and we had a really good time, even though I think the title of the play was totally misleading. I assumed it was the story of an aging professional golfer dealing with the natural decline of his skills over time.

It was not.