[We'd like to thank Rachael Wesley for recapping last night’s show. Her debut (and very Phish-filled) memoir, SECOND SET CHANCES, is forthcoming (April 2025) through Vine Leaves Press. Follow her on IG rachael_wesley_writes or check out her website: rachaelwesley.com for writing and book updates. —Ed.]

Growing up, Sundays were never my favorite day of the week. I was raised in a secular Catholic household, which meant if my parents woke, sans alarm, in time to attend Mass, we would go. My brother and I almost always arose before Mom and Dad. We would tiptoe around the house like mice, turning on Rugrats at the lowest volume possible, whispering together, holding our breath every time we heard a noise, anticipating our parents rising. Any second, we would be summoned to dress for church.

This happened about 50% of the time. Whether we made it to Sacred Heart of Jesus or not, our afternoons always ended with family time and sauce (never gravy) at my Grandparents’. Sometimes, it felt like forever before the spaghetti was served.

Though I never learned to enjoy church, I discovered that if I just surrendered to the routine of that day, Mass would go by a lot quicker, and the pasta at Gram’s would arrive sooner rather than later.

It’s been decades since being forced to attend a Mass I had zero interest in, but as Matt, yesterday’s reviewer, so beautifully said, Phish IS Church, and I’ve been a willing member of this congregation for over twenty years. A Sunday show day includes many of the same elements of the Sundays of yore: church, family, and food, and, for good measure, throw in the lessons of my youth to remember to surrender to what the day throws at you.

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