Ella Fitzgerald’s “A Tisket, A Tasket” always has and always will remind me of a childhood holiday in Ireland. We had a green car, A737 TYE, and I would suck Silvermints and sit in the back with my sister and listen to that tune. I’m listening to it right now, letting the memory spin. I love the scratchy sound you get from old, un-re-mastered tracks, that quality of a record or a Walkman. It makes me feel timeless.
I can’t think of much else to write about jazz. Only that: green scenery passing the window of a back seat, the taste of a mint getting smaller in my mouth.
Any suggestions as to what I should write for “K”?