It’s funny how songs come to life sometimes. The story behind this particular tune starts in Marietta, Georgia, at a Borders Books. Picture this: I’m heading down 85 after work, on my way to a gig at Borders. Everything seems normal until it hits me – I’ve forgotten my guitar. You wouldn’t believe it, right?
The traffic in the opposite direction was jammed solid, bumper-to-bumper. Turning back was not an option. Panic started to set in. I was guitar-less, heading to a performance. The gig wasn’t exactly a high-roller situation; I think they offered thirty bucks cash or fifty in store credit. Naturally, I went for the store credit, grabbed a book about making more money (ironically), and well, here we are. That’s the entrepreneurial spirit for you, always finding the silver lining.
But back to the guitar situation. I was flustered, to say the least. In a moment of desperation, I stopped by Shawn Mullins’ house – thankfully, he lived conveniently on the way. Imagine knocking on Shawn Mullins’ door in a panic. “Hey, sorry to bother you, you barely know me, but I’m in a crisis. Think I’m a complete punk, I know, but could I possibly borrow a guitar?” To his credit, Shawn was incredibly cool about it and lent me his guitar.
So, armed with a borrowed guitar and a healthy dose of stress, I arrived at Borders. And there they were, God bless them, the four people waiting to hear some music. It was the classic musician’s showdown: me against the incredibly loud coffee machine. Seriously, this thing was intense. I had my little PA system, but this coffee machine, I swear it was a Bunn-o-Matic or something equally industrial. Ever been near a Bunn? B-U-N-N? They’re serious about coffee.
Anyway, standing there, facing a small crowd and a roaring appliance, completely fueled by frustration from the day’s mishaps, the Georgia Song just started to pour out of me. It was a spontaneous creation born from a terrible afternoon. And that’s where this song’s journey truly began – in a Borders Books in Marietta, Georgia, fueled by a forgotten guitar, a borrowed instrument, and the relentless hum of a coffee machine.
