The Gift of Jazzy
Chapter One
My Joey
Joey and I had been together forever. I almost can't
remember a time I wasn't with him. I think I came
out of the womb married. Instead of a teething ring, I
had a wedding ring. We were married when I was sixteen.
In his golden days he'd say, "Cindy and I became man
and wife so long ago, Moses himself performed the ceremony.
Our license is on a stone tablet."
My husband did everything for me. The only thing he
ever did to me was grow old. And so, in the winter of his
life, I did for him.
* * *
Age is a bitch. Worse than a mugger in a dark alley, because
age brings a slow death. Minute by minute, inch by
inch, here a little, there a little, year by year by year. Age
robs you of your dignity, ability, agility, memory, self-respect.
It forces once-powerful somebodies to beg favors
from nobodies.
It humiliates. It debilitates. It assassinates.
In the old days, comedian Joey Adams was a big-time
pro headlining those Broadway movie theaters that are
now long gone. Glossy palaces like the Paramount, the
State, the ... read full excerpt from Gift of Jazzy, The ebook
