As we begin to gently nudge Old Man Winter out the door ("This way, my dear.  Get Out!") and shake off that cold suit of armor, we already feel lighter and are ready to prance (in zephyrous attire) into the waiting arms of Spring. * But our thaw will not be complete until we exercise our Right to Sing, into the Equinoxical horizon before us. * It is the communal nature of this seasonal crossing that has us together at the door of OFF THE HOOK, ready to plunge through with arms linked to examine New Blooms in a Wonderland of Sound. * Begone, cold cruel Winter!  Let your hoary head slumber until called upon anon! * The clarion call of New Spring shall likewise herald the arrival of a new OFF THE HOOK, in crystal-clear (and hopefully jazzy) tones!