A James Taylor kinda day

“Now the secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.”  

Those are wise words from a man I know.  Well, I don’t really know him personally, but I’ve seen him a couple of times.  From a distance.  Not like stalker distance, mind you.  I bought a ticket just like everyone else.

I have been troubled today.  And, when I’m troubled I turn to things that make me happy to lift me out of my sad state of mind.  My troubles started last night when, again, I had to test the elasticity of money to see how far it can stretch.  Then, this morning I get in my car and my air conditioning is out.  My son told me yesterday it was out, but I pushed it aside telling him it was just so hot outside the air can’t cool down the car fast enough.  Well, he was right, and I was wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Do you know I live in south Mississippi?  South, as in near the bottom.  South, as in the Southern Living Magazine’s guide to planting has my town bordering on the line called Tropical South.  South, as in hotter than Hades.  Air conditioning is not a luxury, it is an essential need for anyone near where I live.  

Through the grace of God (and I am serious) we had a cool morning so I made it to work without the air just fine.  On my 25-30 minute drive home, on the other hand, I felt God was punishing me for some sin I didn’t even know I committed.   I knew it would be bad so I let down the three windows that work and turned on the music I always turn to when I need a lift.

About five minutes or less into the ride I remembered a hair clip in my purse so I pulled it out and pulled my hair off my neck.  What was left unclipped blew recklessly in the wind, battering my face until it clumped into greasy ropes hanging in my eyes and flung over the top of my head in a haphazard way not attractive to anyone.

I might have topped the speed limit a few times to make it home faster, but I didn’t care.  I knew if I got pulled over I could surely cry my way out of that one.  One look at my wet, red face and ropey hair and surely any officer of the law would have pity on the sad sight that was me.

Well baked, and throbbing from the heat I somehow made it home without passing out from a heat stroke, but I credit my luck to one man, the man I can always count on in my troubled times.  The man I tuned in on my iPod and let his familiar voice lead me to a happier place.  That man would be Mr. James Taylor, to be sure.

Mr. James Taylor was formally introduced to me in college.  Yes, he was an older man, but the lyrics of his songs spoke to me.  I was having boyfriend troubles when we first met, so I turned to him in my confusion for words of wisdom.  One song became my mantra for those woeful days.  So, I listened to it on my way home today, but the heat was affecting me so I couldn’t even enjoy it.  I found myself talking back to him in a sardonic way.  It went something like this:

JT: “The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time”.  

Me:   I hope I don’t get pulled over for making this time pass faster.
JT: “Any fool can do it. There ain't nothing to it .” 

Me:  I feel like a fool in this stupid hot car with only three windows that can let down.
JT: “Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill.  But since we're on our way down we might as well enjoy the ride.” 

Me:  I’m not enjoying this ride.  I feel like I’m on the highway to hell.

And it went on like that even through my favorite parts about time not being real and planets spinning through space.  

JT: “Isn't it a lovely ride?  Sliding down, gliding down.  Try not to try too hard.  It's just a lovely ride”

Oh, see there?  I can’t be mad for long with Mr. James Taylor around.  Life is a lovely ride even when you’re broke, sweating, and crying in your car because you’re afraid you can’t afford to fix the air conditioning.  You just have to keep your eye on what’s ahead, and be careful not to break the speed limit.

I truly can’t complain.  I would have money to fix the air conditioning and maybe even a new car if I didn’t spend it all trying to enjoy the ride that is life.  For example, I’m going to see Mr. James Taylor’s blue eyes with my very own green ones in just 12 days in Cleveland, Ohio.  Yes, indeed, I will be in the audience with my oldest friend and travelling partner trying not to try too hard and listening to the rewind of the soundtrack of my life. 

So Mr. James Taylor, if you should happen to read this, give a shout out to two aging women with eternally girlish hearts, won’t you?  We’ll be there.  July 9^th.  Cleveland, Ohio.  We’ll be the ones with big smiles on our faces.  And if you see us you’ll just have to smile yourself.  Remember, July 9^th.  Got it?  Okie dokie?  I’ll have my hair combed, I promise.