We missed an opportunity at the jazz club. Since the Royal Wedding had taken place earlier, we should have hosted a night of royal jazz and let anyone wearing a hat in for free. The more Dr. Seuss-looking the hat the better. The band could have jazzed a version of God Save the Queen to be in he spirit. No such luck. Instead, we had a relaxed night dominated by couples (perhaps a Will & Kate ripple effect?). Pleasant-looking, happy couples of every ethnic stripe—ahhhh, American jazz…the grand melting pot. One couple, who live 45 minutes away, said they were very happy to be here—a rare night out. When I learned they have five kids, I discreetly slipped them their cover back. Told them that we “don’t want anything impeding your decision to come back here again, when you have the opportunity!” The dad laughed in gratitude and said, “Wow, we didn’t even have to tell you about our youngest child who has a disability.” Turns out their three-year old daughter has brittle bone disease or Osteogenesis Imperfecta—a one in 20,000 likelihood. Apparently in her short life, she’s had 40 broken bones vs. The Doorman’s zero broken bones in a much, much longer life. In my brief conversation, I began to admire this upbeat, loving couple and felt my day was complete. I had met an authentic royal couple truly worth admiring.
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