Some time ago, I told my husband what I really wanted for my birthday were tickets to a James Taylor concert.
James occasionally performs at Jones Beach or Madison Square Garden later in the summer, so maybe the joy of having tickets in my pocket would strengthen my will to wait.
But fortune would play it’s hand. On a furiously wet and windy Saturday in May, the infamous road dog rolled into our town. Invited by a crazy generous Wall Street icon, he sang to me….. and I sang back.
I became part of a frozen wet chorus of JT fans. I feared for his frozen hands, but he was perfect. It was magic.
The wind carried the rain sideways across the stage, but it carried the music straight to my heart. It was freezing cold, but we all huddled up in our winter gear, danced, sang and cheered, and it was amazing.
When I was in high school, he sang me to sleep. I turned on my plastic record player to any side of the Sweet Baby James album – I loved it all – his sweet voice the perfect tonic for a good nights sleep.
Sweet Baby James was my favorite. Written as a lullaby to his brother’s newborn baby boy. It took the Mother Goose we grew up with, and gave the world a lullaby that I sang to my own children as babies.
James, if you happen to read this – I love you. Thank you. You have been, and continue to be a blessing in my life… God knows I’m not alone.