AiRMail 6/18/24

A little context
“Take Me Home, Country Roads" is a song written by Bill Danoff and Taffy Nivert (of Fat City and, later, Starland Vocal Band) and John Denver. It appeared on John Denver’s album, Poems, Prayers & Promises, and was released as a single in 1971. Denver’s first big hit and one of his most popular songs, over 1.6 million digital copies have been sold in the U.S. Ten years ago the song became one of four official state anthems of West Virginia.
 
Not everyone in West Virginia is enamored of the song. None of the songwriters had ever been to West Virginia at the time it was written and there’s long been a controversy over whether the song was even originally about West Virginia. Denver, who’d largely grown up in the southwest, lived most of his adult life in Colorado, a state that also adopted a Denver song (“Rocky Mountain High”) as a state song. John Denver died in a single-occupant plane crash in 1997.

                                        Take Them Home, Country Roads
            Five of the six Melvin sisters were speeding down the West Virginia mountain road in their rental van, headed toward Pittsburgh’s Hilton Garden Airport Hotel where they would spend the night before their return to Colorado Springs the next morning. Suddenly, from a back seat, Maeve shouted, ‘Stop Madison, up there!’
            ‘What the hell, Maeve—'
            ‘See that sign - West Virginia Made. Let’s try there.’
            Madison swerved into the lot, tires kicking up gravel.
            ‘You two will get us killed,’ Melodie said.
            ‘Well you wanted to bring back something authentic for Margaret.’
‘Okay but—'
            ‘This is bound to be better than anything at the airport. Which by the way isn’t even in West Virginia.’
            They crowded into the small shop. Melodie headed directly to the pottery, Mia and Maeve to jewelry, while Meredith and Madison just wandered.
            ‘Why do they call this place ‘Almost Heaven’?’ Meredith asked. Youngest of the six sisters, an afterthought baby, Meredith had altogether missed the 70s.
            ‘It’s from a John Denver song,” Madison said. ‘Country Roads. Country roads, take me home—'
            ‘Who’s John Denver?’
            ‘Some cowboy.’
‘He wasn’t a cowboy,’ said Mia, coming up behind them. ‘He was a folk singer, folk/rock, from Iowa I think. Really popular. Really good.’
            ‘I thought he was from Arizona,’ said Maeve as she, too, approached. She took a jasper necklace from Mia’s hands. ‘You aren’t seriously thinking of this for Margaret, are you? She’s never worn necklaces.’
            ‘Well, he wasn’t from West Virginia, that’s for sure,’ Mia said, taking back the necklace. ‘Or from Colorado either. He just took that name – Denver - for effect.’
            ‘Remember that old bumper sticker around Aspen?’ Madison asked. ‘John Denver, go home!’
            ‘So, who cares?’ said Maeve. ‘I liked him.’
            ‘Oh me, too, Maeve,’ Mia admitted. ‘Still do. And you know, Melodie was nuts about him. Big-time fan.’
            ‘Speaking of Melodie,’ said Melodie, coming up behind her sisters, two large tankards in her hands, ‘here she is. I adore these fat-belly mugs. Don’t they just look like they belong in a mountain cabin?’
            ‘Does Margaret drink coffee?’ Meredith asked.
            ‘No, but since she’s been sick, she’s been drinking a lot of tea.’
            ‘Well, okay. Maybe,’ said Meredith.
            ‘Will they fit in your suitcase?’ Maeve asked.          
            While Maeve, Meredith, and Melodie conferred, Madison moseyed toward the front of the store, where an array of weavings hung on a rack. She picked out a soft-fibered handwoven shawl in pale colors and draped it around her shoulders.
At the same time Mia headed back toward the jewelry with the necklace. But first she stopped by a bin holding old compact discs. Soon she found what she was looking for, a copy of John Denver’s “Poems, Prayers, and Promises” on CD. She held it up for the others to see.
            ‘Isn’t that him?’ Melodie asked, pointing.
            ‘Of course,’ said Mia.
            ‘Not that,’ Melodie said. ‘Up there, at the checkout counter.’
            They all turned to look.
            ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Madison said, ‘he’s dead.’ But she sauntered closer to the counter just the same.
            ‘We seem to be lost,’ a man with was saying to the store clerk. The man was maybe 35 years old and starting to go bald. Next to him stood a guy about 5’10” with long straight blond hair and wearing round, wire-rimmed glasses.
            As the clerk showed the two men a map and walked them through a route to their destination, the Melvin sisters closed around them at the checkout counter. Except Meredith, who held back, holding the pale peach and mint colored weaving Madison had dropped in her hurry to catch the celebrity. The four siblings all started talking at once. Is it you? Would you autograph my hand? Are you doing concerts again? Will you be back in Aspen soon? Can I take a selfie?
            Meredith sighed, then lost patience. ‘Hey, you guys, get a grip!’ She yelled. ‘Will you come here please and look at this?’ She stomped her foot, which, being the youngest, she was entitled to do. ‘You remember we’re here to find something for Margaret, right?’ Meredith said. ‘Margaret? Who’s very sick back home in Colorado, who can’t stay warm. This is perfect, it’s by a local artist, says they use traditional weaving methods. Authentic!’
            The sisters Melodie, Mia, Madison, and Maeve, turned to look. They did remember. Sheepishly abandoning their quest to determine if the man at the counter was really him, they trundled en masse to join Meredith. All agreed the weaving was the perfect gift.
            ‘Maybe we could throw in that CD, Poems, Prayers, and Promises,’ Maeve said.
            ‘That album’s got nothing to do with West Virginia,’ said Mia.
            ‘Was Margaret even a fan?’ asked Meredith.
            ‘Not really,’ Melodie said.
            Maeve shrugged. ‘Still. The title’s apt.’
 
            By the time the sisters converged on the service counter to make their purchases, the two men who’d come in to ask for directions were walking out the door. The dark-haired one turned to the shorter man with the wire-rimmed glasses.
            ‘What was that all about, John?’ he asked.
            ‘Couldn’t tell you,’ said the blond.
            ‘Well, who were they?’
            ‘Don’t know. A bunch of West Virginia hicks, I guess.’