Salad Days Vol. #413: Me and Barely Spraggins and James Taylor and Meryl Streep

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I was riding home from a very nice little get-together with friends and family tonight, getting the 'designated drive' from my lovely spouse. She, as per usual, had the old James Taylor on the car stereo, sweetly singing out his good ol' white guy blues. It got me to thinking about the ol' Salad Days again:

It was the best of times, it was the best of times. It was, for the sake of the story, sometime in the mid-80's. I was currently, probably, between engagements, and my old friend, Barely Spraggins, knew this. He also knew that I would be very vulnerable to a little road trip. On this particular day, he called me up from Portland and asked me if I wanted to go see James Taylor down in Tanglewood Music Center, somewhere out in the scenic and trendy Berkshires of Western Mass. It was an outdoor concert, the middle of summer, sounded like a 'not to miss'. Now I'll say right off that I wasn't at the time the biggest James fan. Oh, I had no malice toward Sweet Baby James, but the kind of music I leaned toward at the time usually involved fellows with mohawks or the words 'flaming' or 'dead' or 'fuck' in the name of their band. That realised, I still signed on and away we went. Mid afternoon brought us first through Boston, then Sprinfield, then Stockbridge, then Great Barrington, Barely sSpraggins singing along crudely, but very entusiastically with the James Mix-tape he so thoughtfully had prepared: ' oh the fisrt of December was covered with snow, and so was the Turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston, and the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frostin' '. Barely was a great guy, but he couldn't hold a tune in a bucket.

Anyhow, we got to the Tanglewood music center, which was a great big open air ampitheater, like the Esplenade in Boston , where Arthur Fiedler and the Pops used to play. Everyone was picnic-ing on the grass and drinking wine and smiling and what-not; it was a very nice scene. But get this: the best part was there was this big line to a beer tent, where of course I found myself ligering, and whom do you suppose I found myself next to--that's right, you guessed it, Academy Award winning actress Meryl Streep. Oh, we had a long conversation about our favorite Directors and movies and what-not, but before long we reached the end of the line and it was time to bid our farewells. We both got a nice big cardboard cup of Tuborg Gold and we were on our way, flushed from our mutual brush with stardom. Now, as with James, I was not the biggest Meryl Streep fan at the time. I mean, what young dude didn't love Sophie's Choice, but otherwise I wasn't that familiar with her work. But still, it was pretty cool waitin' in the beer line with an academy award winner.

As far as the concert went, it was much better than I expected. James' band was top notch, his back-up singers were so sweet, and he played all the crowd's favs. And during the song Fire and Rain, there was actually a brief but tumultuous thunderstorm that was so cool it sounded scripted. I have since that time, become a very big James Taylor fan, even though I wouldn't until recently admit that in print. Ah, to be so painfully eclectic as to have James Taylor and the Dead Kennedy's rubbing elbows in your record collection (yes, Records). As a matter of fact, my lovely wife and I danced together at our wedding to 'You've Got a Friend'. As far as Tuborg Gold goes, I enjoy it on the odd occasion, where I am in a situation where there is beer (what are the odds). As far as Barely Spraggins, we don't see too much of each other these days, what with that incident over his sister. And Meryl Streep: well I'm still not a big fan. As a matter of fact, I think she is to loath. But what the hell; we'll always have Stockbridge.