342
PARTISAN REVIEW
He looked more helpless than ever, and annoyed, and deeply
hurt.
I suggested, helpfully: "You mean-like Louis Armstrong?"
His face closed as though I'd struck him. "No. I'm not talking
about none of that old-time, down home crap."
"Well, look, Sonny, I'm sorry, don't get mad. I just don't
.altogether get it, that's all. Name somebody-you know, a jazz
musician you admire."
"Bird."
"Who?"
"Bird! Charlie Parker! Don't they teach you nothing in the
goddamn army?"
I lit a cigarette. I was surprised and then a little amused to
discover that I was trembling. "I've been out of touch," I said.
"You'll have to be patient with me. Now. Who's this Parker
character?"
"He's just one of the greatest jazz musicians alive," said Sonny,
sullenly, his hands in his pockets, his back to me. "Maybe
the
greatest," he added, bitterly, "that's probably why
you
never heard
of him."
"All right," I said, "I'm ignorant. I'm sorry. I'll go out and buy
all the cat's records right away, all right?"
"It don't," said Sonny, with dignity, "make any difference to
me. I don't care what you listen to. Don't do me no favors."
I was beginning to realize that I'd never seen him so upset be–
fore. With another part of my mind I was thinking that this would
probably turn out to be one of those things kids go through and
that I shouldn't make it seem important by pushing it too hard. Still,
I didn't think it would do any harm to ask: "Doesn't all this take
a lot of time? Can you make a living .at it?"
He turned back to me and half leaned, half sat, on the kitchen
table. "Everything takes time," he said, "and-well, yes, sure, I can
make a living at it. But what I don't seem to be able to make you
understand is that it's the only thing I want to do."
"Well, Sonny," I said, gently, "you know people can't always
do exactly what they
want
to do-"
"No,
I don't know that," said Sonny, surprising me. "I think
people
,ought
to do what they want to do, what else .are they alive
for?"
