I finally made it to the Rochester International Jazz Festival last night.
It was cloudy and chilly. A few hundred people milled around Gibbs Street, and most wore jackets or sweatshirts. Smoke from vendorsâ€™ booths drifted down past Eastman Theatre, and a line snaked around the corner for David Murray's Black Saint Quartet in Kilbourn Hall. The sight of the crowds made me happy.
Iâ€™ve been busier than usual at work and pretty happy about it.
This week I filed a feature story for NPR, interviewed guitarist Sharon Isbin, and listened to about forty audio tributes to homicide victims. The last thing was not at all fun, and I still have ten more to go. Iâ€™m preparing to interview photographer Will Yurman, who spent 2007 documenting the lives of all the murder victims in a single year in Rochester, NY.
Imagine. Everytime someone was murdered, Will drove his gear to the neighborhood, the house, the cemetery.