Hey Reader! Every spring, my friends have a ritual. They pilgrimage to the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival (JazzFest). They travel without flags and poles to signal their position in the crowd. No coolers or blankets lay claim to a patch they camp out on all day. Foldable chairs remain in the car. For a weekend, all that matters is music, and they follow the sound of horns from stage to stage, knowing that wherever they end up, it will be good. After more than two decades of pilgrimage,...