Ella Fitzgerald

My dad’s favorite singer. I miss them both. I remember sitting in Kresge Auditorium for one of her summer concerts: hundreds of Interlochen staff and campers couldn’t get seats, so they were standing outside of the auditorium when the sky opened up and started pelting them with rain. “Baby, it’s raining.” The wind whipped. “Come inside or you’ll catch your death.” The aisles suddenly filled with grateful wet, blue corduroy campers. Probably a fire hazard, but better than the lightning strikes everyone was ready to endure for her.

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