Video Blog – The Time I Met Dizzy Gillespie
November 16, 2007
This long overdue telling of a story I’ve referred to a few times.
I was eleven when the story this took place, by the way, not twelve or thirteen like I said. I know this because when I dug out the autograph, I saw he’d dated it ‘82. I think that’s funny also how he thought he should write something in French.
OK, you. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.
Weekend song tomorrow and then something else on Sunday. Wrap up warm and see you back here on Monday. Have a great weekend.
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4 comments
My Beloved, when asked when almost any long-ago event took place, almost always replies “twelve, thirteen”. It’s become a joke, this default age that was so very eventful. Interesting to note it’s not unique to him. (I can’t compare from my own experience because I moved home pretty much every year, so I always have a geographical context that helps to date memories.)
Cool story, anyway.
Why can’t I stay here?
“Twelve, thirteen” might be a catch-all age for childhood in men. Maybe because they are generic, unformative years.
Ed – dunno. It was just something to say as I put the metaphorical blogging chairs on the table and swept up before the weekend.
I like how you lop in the bit about ice cream and describing it as an “ice-cream free day.” That day was very memorable, apparently.
Leave a comment. Play nice. I will turn this blog around.