B.B. White Tribute

She liked "sharp! sharp! sharp!" cheddar cheese. She laughed often and much. And loudly. And she had legs a mile long. "Legs and braids" she would say.
It's been said that everyone has a public life, a private life, and a secret life. B.B.'s public life was very public; a jazz-singer, with a wonderful, vibrant range of emotion and expression. One of the very best, ever. Her private life was that of a scholar. She would read -- devour, really -- books on mathematics, science and psychology, like most people would read a novel. Except she would do all the problems in the math books and write copious notes in the margins of the science and psychology books. Quiet reading; no TV. Quite different than the mainstream. And all with Billy Holiday, or Bessie Smith or Cleo Layne or any of a dozen other jazz-singers providing a constant sound-track to every waking and even sleeping moment.
Her secret life? Well, that's a secret, isn't it? I couldn't reveal that even if I wanted to.
Living with BB WAS music. The music stayed on all night too. Vinyl LP's on constant repeat. It was her way of studying the greats 24 hours a day. Practice, preparing a meal together, quiet conversation about life and goals and what is truly worthwhile. All to the backdrop of jazz. Like being in a Woody Allen movie. She burned for that one achievement. Nothing else mattered: To be a Jazz-Singer. She lived it. She was a jazz singer from the day we met -- well really way before the day we met -- until the day she died. I just wish she had been more appreciated. By me, and by the rest of the world. She deserved it.