May 27
Dear Liza,
Your Grandpa Nelson is the best Idea Guy. And the other day, he came up with another doozy. Specifically, “How would you feel about going out to hear some Jazz?”
“Yes, please!”
“The Hot Club de Leon is just over on the Presqu’ile, if you like.”
There were logistics, of course. The show we wanted to see, the Jam Swing, was free, but only to people with l’adhésion annuelle. That means an Annual Pass. Could we get an Annual Pass? How much were they?
As we boarded the metro for the few stops to the right neighborhood, we practiced. “Bonsoir, madam. Nous voudrions une l’adhésion annuelle, mais nous habitons en les États Unis. C’est possible?”
When we felt ready, we headed into the still-empty hallway, down the ancient stone stairs and around several sharp turns to the Hot Club de Leon. Since we were way early, there was time to explain ourselves, and the folks were very accommodating to our broken French. We were pleased with the answer, “Bien sûr,” and the price. Six euros a piece for an evening of live jazz.
We got drinks and found some padded spots on the stair-step seating, next to wall because leaning is nice for older backs. We enjoyed people-watching as the musicians came in and got set up. Folks came in and greeted friends (some with two kisses, some with three).
When the music started and the crowd grew, the tiny dance floor became a standing room only crowd floor. Our view of the stage almost disappeared, but the music was so amazing we didn’t care. The joy of hearing really good musicians weave their jazz magic with saxophone, guitar, drums and stand up bass had us bouncing in our seats.
Young folks danced and bounced as well, clearly loving these old jazz standards that were written before their grandparents were born.
As the evening went along, regulars were called up from the crowd to join the Jam. Some came up joyfully, but one young man was so nervous he had trouble getting started! But once he heard the applause, he was confident and ran the set.
When our backs were tired and our ears were full, we headed up the stairs and walked back home through the streets of Lyon.
The lights on the river were magical, reminding us of all the beauty we have seen here.
Love,
Grandma Judy
Dear Liza 