Wayward smoke, a flock of helium balloons, or just another UFO, accompanies "Someone to Watch Over Me."

Clearly, someone is watching over Grappelli. Frail and hoarse, yet flailing horse hair with a fluency far surpassing exuberant youth, we see no pact with some fiddle-loving devil, but sacred trust; an explication of the future life of God: at the very least, promise of swinging violins in the fullness of time.

Dad sits to my right, smiling at the astonishing artist. He sees the wayward sky-crossing object. He is not alarmed. To his right, Mom and Miriam complete our miracle appreciation society.

Mom sees the puff of smoke originate from neon cross on yonder hill. She is not alarmed. Miriam has not seen the shape-shifting overhead, absorbed with the sound-shifting on stage.

I am fully content with the double mystery of anomaly and Grapelli. By the time he plays "Sweet Georgia Brown", we know we've gotten our denominations' worth, raising Ira Gershwin's rhetorical encyclical: "Who could ask for anything more?"