A Normal Part of Living
Jazz came to me as a luminescent fairy would to a child wandering in a lost forest. I very young, four or five—and couldn’t distinguish dream from memory. The world was colorful, deep shadows, soft light. I lived in a perpetual state of sweet anticipation. My parents were new to the country, escaping Cuba in 1980 with nothing but the assurances of their awaiting loved ones. They settled in Union City, a strong Cuban enclave in North Jersey, and had me in 1985. With the exception of Merrie Melodies and Yankees telecasts... Читать дальше...
