Last Friday, in the midst of helping clean the kitchen, Lamd turned around suddenly and asked, “does anyone ever call you Hot Jazz? How about Smooth Jazz? Free Jazz?” Here that line of questioning died due to his audience’s reaction. I was in complete bewilderment at the idea of someone applying those adjectives to my name, RM was doubled over laughing. Lamd stood there, calmly querying, with a dishcloth in his hand.