Little Satchmo

It's a tiny thing--and it hasn't got a lot of action. It rolls along like your aunt sitting on the porch and telling a family tale on a slow summer day. She takes out old photos, reads bits of old letters. While some great music drifts along in the background.

But it is a curious look at another time and another place, and you do get a sense of learning something you didn't know. And you wonder if it had to be that way.

I didn't know what to expect about this story at all. But I think it's going to haunt me now.