This is an opinion column

This column is my Plan B. My Plan A was to write about the James Taylor concert I’d gone to, the one starring that world-famous pop star with the sweet, crooning voice. That “Sweet Baby James.” He was to perform at Huntsville’s Orion Amphitheater tonight—Tuesday— and the fans were excited.

As all the ticket holders know by now, we fans will have to wait. The concert was rescheduled for August 22, when that smooth voice will be rested and restored. For lifelong fans like me, I’ll wait. I’ll go. And I’ll remember what happens when a voice gets overused, the way my own did after twenty years of college lecturing.

When the doctor peered down my throat with a scope, he joked that I’d been either an opera singer or a teacher. There was some damage down there, and he could see it. So I’m sympathetic to anyone who earns a living by singing or declaiming, who keeps a steady schedule, year after year, decade after decade, and then follows doctor’s orders to stop or slow down.

The first time I saw James Taylor in the early 1970s, we were both young. His Chapel Hill audience was thrilled that the local boy had gone off and made good, as they said in the North Carolina vernacular. Some of his former teachers showed up for the concert, walking right up on the stage to give him a hug, even the men.

Old friends from the neighborhood came, too, and when he started his set with

“You’ve Got a Friend,” all the friends in the audience—even the ones who hadn’t seen him in years—swayed and sang along. Taylor sang about the darkest night and the storm clouds gathering above. Most of his audience didn’t know about his drug addiction, I’m guessing, but he’d been in treatment by then, trying to get better. Still, even when you’re down and out, friends come through. Who can resist a lyric like that?

And then there was a commotion and a surprise from the wings when Carly Simon danced on stage and sang the harmonies in “Mockingbird.” The crowd, as they say, went wild. Were they already married? I don’t know. They swayed close together. They seemed to know each other pretty well.

We all drove home with tunes in our heads, ready to “Shower the People” with all that love, just like the song said.

Decades later, Taylor performed in Huntsville with new takes on old songs. The audience still sang along. We’ve been singing those tunes for a lifetime, rocking our babies to sleep with “Rockabye Sweet Baby James” and dancing at wedding receptions to the easy rock of “How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You.”

The songs seem eternal and everywhere. Even at my granddaughter’s college graduation last month, a UNC choir sang “Going To Carolina In My Mind.” After the heavy speeches, it was a good song to march out on.

How magical it must be to write a tune all alone in your room, then years later listen to people in a concert hall somewhere in the world sing it back to you, or hear it in the elevator as you ride up to the top floor.

Pop stars don’t really change the world, but they teach us how to sing about it, giving us words and melodies to make our time here more pleasant.

The last time I saw James Taylor perform, he put his arms out to the audience and we finished singing “How Sweet It Is.” And it was. Here’s hoping for healing so the next time will be, too.

Beth Thames can be contacted at [email protected]