About fifteen years ago (to marry the two off thread entries here) I held a new infant in my arms; she stared up at me with curiousity and profound self-reliance, and all I could do was weep and tell her shre was welcome to the world.

Last night her Mom and I went to a neighbor's house where shehad been going a few hours a week to play in a student jazz band. They had a tutor in, who was inspired, and worked up some numbers. A keyboardist, bass, guitar, drummer, a new gal sitting in on trombone, and my daughter (Ariel yclept) on lead trumpet.

Man, could they cut a rug! They absolutely wailed on some very tough syncopated numbers such as "Sing, Sing"; they did some freeform blues with Ariel doing absolutely soulful solos on her trumpet, and then they changed gears and laid "Amazing Grace" on us. I was blown out through the back of my head, I am here to say; not just the music, but because I remembered that hour in the hospital, seeing this handful of protoplasm staring up at me, and being swept off my feet by the emotions which are only opened to us when the tides of life itself sweep us out of our smaller concerns.

It was one helluva night. I'm with you, 'Spaw -- it doesn't get better than this.

A