New Year’s Eve morning, 2008, found me seated three feet from the night sky, ensconced in a red velvet chair. A bare-chested Tony Curtis moved in front of me speaking in a Cary Grant accent.
If it wasn’t heaven, it was certainly heavenly. My throne was in the balcony of the State Theatre in downtown Traverse City, the night sky was the ceiling covered in tiny lights to mimic a starry night. Fr...
