When I was a young boy, my father would sometimes take us to Los Angeles to visit my Uncle Shag and Aunt Nootsy. Uncle Shag was a very dark man who had spent some time in the Navy. He had seen a bit of the world and, in his own way, had a certain sophistication about him. During many of the visits, one of the things Uncle Shag would do would be to play some jazz records on his High Fidelity record player while he, and my father, and my uncles and their friends would be sipping on something volatile. In their own way, these black men were in their prime at that time and it seemed that the jazz they played and the conversations they had while imbibing on the libations was their essence of cool.
It has been many years since those days of my youth, and Uncle Shag died almost 30 years ago. But today, I was reminded of those days by the passing of one of the jazz greats of those days gone by. It was announced that Dave Brubeck died today. He may be gone but his music lives on ... and in my mind so too do the memory of Uncle Shag, Aunt Nootsy, Uncle Bob, Aunt Ruby, and Mom and Dad. Take Five, my friends...
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