Sacred Sunday: “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” Etta James

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One more week.  One more week on the road.  One more week of living out of a suitcase.  One more week of hotels and hotel food and hotel smells and hotel lamps that are inexplicably hard to figure out how to turn on and hotel bathtubs that are pointlessly shallow.  Gotta get the blood up.  Can’t start flagging now.

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