In addition to jazz, literature was part of the precocious teenaged and precociously beer fueled conversations Fritz and I had with other friends. Lest you think we were, besides the beer, little saints, don’t worry, there was predictable sophomoric humor and the requisite angst of adolescence. We lived vicariously through the books we read and the words great writers spun for us. I was interested in novels, but Fritz also had an ear for poetry—and not just the great lyrics that went with the anthems of the late 1960s-early 1970s. Read More