I'm glad everyone agrees on me and the history of jazz; while it's true, I don't feel any loss. What I have to account is one persons story and no more.
In March 1955, a witness to his death heard a clap of thunder at the moment Charlie Parker passed. In the Summer of that very same year, jazz was born for me at my cousin's apartment in Chicago. He had more records than I have ever seen outside of a record store, I was in paradise; nowhere had I ever heard music like this.
I acquired, and still have many of those same records. Little did I know, at that time my history was being made in a way that would last for the rest of my life. Although I've tried very hard to get past that period, here I am, right back where it all started with many of the same musicians and records.
Enjoy the music.