In the earliest years of the twenty-first century, my awareness contained only the tune, and neither the backstory nor the words to "Sweet Baby James". I now know the real words, and the story which inspired them.
Our vagabond "baby" daughter chose to make a home in North Carolina, specifically in Asheville. It was in those years that we decided that she was settled sufficiently that we could make the trio to visit her there.
On the several routes we took during the first several trips (we had become emotionally attached to Asheville), we encountered a multitude of construction projects and detours. I was plagued with an earworm of my own creation. I would frequently, over the course of that long drive, repeat in my mind the words "It's a rugged ol' ride, from Asheville to Austin", to the tune of that familiar James Taylor song. Now that the aforementioned daughter and her family have settled here in Texas, and live right downstairs in the same house, we no longer make the trip, which has since become much smoother and easily traveled.
And so, when we received a card from one of our dearest friends, whom we affectionately call "our other Donna", with a vintage representation of Main Street Stockbridge, I got teary-eyed.
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