Watching television in the hotel. Laptop enabled, high speed connection, bright sunny day, out visiting customers on Nantucket island with Todd. So many friendly people out on this isle 29 miles at sea. Sun glinting off the water. The Sox game is on and James Taylor sang the national anthem. While he sang in the sun, he was hatless. But later when he was a guest with the broadcasters, he had a navy blue Red Sox hat on, and was noticeably taller than Jerry Remy and the other broadcaster.
Taylor is everyman’s rock star. As Remy and his cohort talked about their CD collection, Sweet Baby James, and concerts they had seen, avuncular James was a laid back Red Sox fan, still waxing eloquent on the big event. A close-up showed the 2004 World Series Rings, and James talked about how his wife in Lenox is a die hard Sox fan like him and that they go to Fenway three times a season.
Taylor sells out areanas in minutes, and is one of Rock’s most successful artists. Yet like his brother Livingston, he is self reflective, modest, shy and introverted. But he has the star aura and the chops to back it all up.
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