Deep Down in the Delta

Inside the hardware store is a great place to evade a sudden rain shower.  I ducked in and waited for the fickle storm to pass and the sun to reappear.  First the garden shop and then sizing up a couple of wood screws to finally hang a hatrack.
By the time I got to lightbulbs I heard a familiar voice.  Why would canned music give me a familiar voice I care about?
Wait...isn't that Son House?  Course it is.  I know the tune.  Muted and probably in nobody's radar I moved through pest traps and bug sprays and stopped briefly to admire some trinkets best classified as knick knacks, stocking stuffers, or simply things you don't need but can't resist touching.
Son House in my local Ace Hardware.  How does that happen?  Did the person responsible for the sound track of this afternoon migrate to the Northwest from the Mississippi Delta?  Is it a random act of serendipity?  Did a music programmer one day draw a diagonal line from the bottom right side of the U.S.map to the top left side and end up in Portland, Oregon?
Delta blues from Son House, on a stormy day in Portland.  Ace is the place.