Different and the Same

The weather has been really nice lately.  Sunshiny.  Not humid.  Around 90 degrees.  Kinda inspires folks to drive around with the car windows down, just playing music on the way to get where they are going, only just loud enough that it's possible for passersby to hear what the driver really likes to listen to.  

I was enjoying those little snippits of overheard music today while I was putting my shopping in the car at the local grocery.  A little rock.  A little rap.  But the best one was the Blues.  

An old guy in an equally old rusty truck was trolling the parking lot looking for a spot closer to the store, maybe he felt rusty, too.   I know that feeling myself.  He slowed behind my car to see if I'd be moving on.  Not for sure because I didn't recognize the song but I believe he was playing Mississippi John Hurt, one of my Blues favorites.  The old truck guy looked me in the eye and smiled; I smiled back and nodded.  The music was amazing, and I truly enjoyed that 10 second sound bite.  Gotta love the Blues; that stuff always reaches deep into the heart.

Gotta love Mississippi, too.  In spite of what other people might hear about this place, it's comfortable (in spite of our 9 months of summer) and we like it.  Folks are friendly.  And sometimes they share the Blues without evening meaning to.  Nice.  That's how I know I'm home.