Finding Ted's final album in a store in Boston on my first US trip, I stood for over an hour, headphones clasped to my head, amazed at the warmth and openness of every track.
My wife and I had seen Ted only once, in Southport, England nearly 10 years ago, but we had never forgotten his music.
I hadn't heard the first song he sang in Southport since that night, but when Ted began Missing Mississippi on track 19, the great paddle wheels of the river turned just like they had done all those years before.
Robeson singing 'the folks I used to know'; Belafonte at Carnegie Hall; surely, Ted's sometimes beautiful, and perhaps more importantly, always honest rendition of his own and others' songs, is a life giving event of equal greatness.
After an hour or so, the CD came to an end. I wiped away a small tear and bought 2 copies - one for my wife and one for my father - it was the least I could do. As a child, our home was filled with the sound of Johnny Cash, Charley Pride and Creedence Clearwater Revival - all reborn in Ted's inspired interpretations.