Every summer James Taylor gives a fourth of July benefit concert at Tanglewood which is just over the mountain from my place. The concerts are always sold out. When I first moved here, I packed up my gear, ready to head out to sit on the great lawn for the JT concert. I had no tickets - lawn tickets aren't reserved, figured I'd just buy at the gate like any Tanglewood Concert. Almost out the door and a friend called and told me that the concerts had been sold out for weeks and road blocks wouldn't allow me anywhere near the place. I was crestfallen. Each year I think about making the trek to get tickets and every year it is already sold out. One day soon.
In my twenties when James Taylor was a pretty hot commodity - I found myself drawn to a guy, I later married, who looked a lot like the young James Taylor. Ross had the same tall, thin, little bit angular style couched in big doses of charm and humor. Perfect for me - nearly opposite in many ways but overlapping enough to make a relationship of sorts. He made me laugh and very happy as a traveling companion through our young adult lives. But we grew up quickly and the glue that cemented us together was more like little kids' sweet paste than the stuff that keep folks together for a lifetime. It was heartbreaking to pull our lives asunder but it happened.
Learning to live without Ross, with only melodies to measure memories or heal life's wounds - took a long time. Without a map to follow, like everyone else, just kept truckin'. As a result, I became convinced that love was non-existant - some false or shallow hormonal exercise. But I had a lot of healing to do. I was convinced I had no idea what love was, or if I had loved Ross or if he loved me. I was a disaster emotionally, I suppose. Just another victim of the sixties newish emotional open environment.
I feel fine.