In her early thirties, my friend Annette made her first trip out of the United States. She moved to Paris, and her dream was to sing jazz. She arrived in Paris with only a few hundred dollars in her wallet, a few words of French and a hotel reservation that had been cancelled after her flight was delayed. While she was switching trains at Metro Châtelet on her way into the city from Orly, she heard a guitarist playing in one of the tunnels. She put down her suitcases and started singing Summertime, filling the major commuter train hub with her voice. Continue reading →