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Dear Mr. Keillor, I was
April 16, 2004 |
Dear Mr. Keillor,
I was delighted to read of your ambition to become a nightclub singer. That is my ambition as well. However, something happened after the 50th anniversary of my birth, and now I'm wondering if I should just put away my dreams and stiletto heels, stop embarrassing my grown children, and act like a real Gramma. Any thoughts?
Dear Mrs. Murray,
I'm 61, kiddo, and I'm a grandpa and I still have my dreams. Of course I have advantages. I do a radio show in a theater with a band and sometimes I get to sneak into the nightclub mode. Then I went to Berlin in February and what do they know about me there? Do they know that I'm NOT a nightclub singer? Nein. So I was, sort of, for one night. Now, during our run at the Fitzgerald this spring, I've added a late show on Saturdays, called The Rhubarb Show, and as part of it, guess what? You bet. Not for long. Not for more than one song. But I'll wear a black tux and maybe a black shirt and put some wax in my hair and look sullen and troubled and sing in a dark evocative way and we'll see, kiddo, we'll see.