Jazz
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Jazz - Arnold Greenberg
Inc.
Blame it on Mom.
She was a jazz freak and I grew up hearing Billie Holiday, Anita O’Day, June Christie, Ella and Louis, you name it. "The cats," she called them. She knew all the words and she’d sing to the records, snapping her fingers, looking at herself in the mirror, moving her hips. I remember sitting on the floor, holding the record jackets, looking at the pictures on the front, then up at Mom singing to herself. She sang when she did dishes or was dusting around the house. I can still see her holding a dish and washing it over and over while she sang, When You Wish Upon a Star or Stormy Weather. I can still hear her singing different songs, moving her head from side to side while I sat on the floor playing with my Raggedy Ann doll.
I remember how she’d laugh at me when I came to her holding one of her Billie Holiday albums and I’d say, Billie on, Billie on.
She’d say, Ginger, baby, you’re going to be a jazz singer when you grow up.
She’d put the record on and I’d sit on her lap and listen to Billie singing, Strange Fruit and All of Me, Why Not Take All of Me. The record was scratchy and worn out; I could tell how much Mom loved those records. So did I.
Jazz
by
Arnold Greenberg
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Jazz
COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Arnold Greenberg
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Champagne Rose Edition, 2017
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1677-2
Published in the United States of America
Blame it on Mom. She was a jazz freak and I grew up hearing Billie Holiday, Anita O’Day, June Christie, Ella and Louis, you name it. "The cats," she called them. She knew all the words and she’d sing to the records, snapping her fingers, looking at herself in the mirror, moving her hips. I remember sitting on the floor, holding the record jackets, looking at the pictures on the front, then up at Mom singing to herself. She sang when she did dishes or was dusting around the house. I can still see her holding a dish and washing it over and over while she sang, When You Wish Upon a Star or Stormy Weather. I can still