BruceMackIn the days after Hurricane Sandy darkened the Lower East Side, an old man played horn inside his dark, cold apartment, hungry for his favorite food: chicken. Then, unexpectedly, knuckles rapped at his door. It was four volunteers from the Jazz Foundation of America, and they had warm food and clothing.

Tears welled up in the man’s eyes. “Who are you? And, I love you,” he said.
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