I bought the February concert tickets in September and gave them to my husband in December. We have always been concertgoers although our style and our hearing is not what it used to be. Instead of big name concerts in big city arenas, I try to find shows in smaller venues so I start by searching for an artist or band we’ve never seen, typically a concert where I know all
the words to all the songs.
This time when I googled the person I thought my husband would enjoy I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had searched for Bonnie Raitt and another famous musician’s name popped up with hers. Both artists are on tour and they are on tour together so I quickly bought the tickets believing I got a bonus. Bonnie Raitt was for Randy but the other musician, he was for me.
I first met James Taylor riding with my childhood friend, Vicki, who was older than me by ten months. This meant that she got her license first and became my chauffeur, my primary means of transportation. Her daddy bought her a beat up blue Chevy with an 8-track tape player installed at Vicki’s insistence. She would pull up in front of my parent’s house with her music rocking and would I climb in her car and she would take off in a spray of gravel, often before I had my door closed.
We were going places.
Vicki listened to all kinds of music but one day, she slipped in James Taylor, who was not like anyone else in her music case. His words were soothing and simple and said things that I understood.
I thought he was singing to me.
We drove around and around that night, playing Sweet Baby James, which was the name of that tape as well as the title song. Since Vicki knew my middle name was Jayne and since I always had the earliest curfew, my friend changed a few words in the title song and sang her version to me every time she dropped me off.
“Goodnight, you blue jean baby, rock-a-bye Sweet Baby Jayne”…