When I heard the Jazz Standard was closing, I didn’t cry. I closed my eyes. I inhaled. And six years’ worth of memories came tumbling to me. I promised them I would write them down, that I wouldn’t forget this tiny club in the basement of Danny Meyer’s Blue Smoke on East 27th Street. Then again, how could I forget the place that taught me who I was? For six years, the Jazz Standard was my home. It was my life. It gave me a life. And now it’s gone. …
