It’s the Saturday after Thanksgiving, 1983, At twenty four years old, I’m on a plane home from Western New York, after having visited some relatives.
I can’t shake the feeling that I recognize that old black guy in front of me as a famous musician. “Duke Ellington?” I wonder. “Count Basie?”
At least one of them’s dead.
There’s a middle-aged couple next to him. The wife asks him, “Are you Cab Calloway?”
My anxiety attack is no more. I heave a sigh of relief.
I overhear Calloway say softly, “That handsome young gentleman back there won’t have to go crazy now.”
Each week Rochelle Wisoff~Fields leads us in Friday Fictioneers, as we write a story based upon a photo prompt.
This week’s photo was supplied by Lucy Fridkin.