Bluegrass reigns in Raleigh

There is nothing quite like walking through halls of musicians four or five gathered up close together playing and singing reveling in the blessings that the gift of music brings.

I was honored to attend the International Bluegrass Music Association’s World of Bluegrass and Wide Open Bluegrass in Raleigh, N.C. That is what I saw as walked around the convention center, the streets, the nearby hotels. What was most endearing is that many of the players appeared to be college and high school age and younger.

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New quartet convention – worth the trip

When the evening air begins to cool, my thoughts move towards visiting the mountains. This year I took advantage of going to Pigeon Forge, Tenn. to take in the National Quartet Convention in its new home at the LeConte Center there after moving from Freedom Hall in Louisville, Kentucky.

I must say I was greatly impressed by the atmosphere of the facility, the lodge feeling of the interior and the closeness to the artists that the booths allowed. It seemed less like an exhibit area and more like visiting with the artists in a well-decorated mountain retreat.

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Time’s a wastin’ – do something

As I walked across the yard this morning the wind whirled around me with a chill that reminded me that today is the first day of fall.

I cannot remember a year thus far in my life that has seemed to fly by like this one has.

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The ferris wheel

As I held tightly to my mother’s right hand, I gripped the striped-red string that held my blue, green and yellow balloon we bought from the bright-colored clown. I knew if I didn’t hold on to both with all my might they might get lost amidst the crowd moving between the fair rides. I never saw so many people bumping into each other in my life. It was wall-to-wall people.

We waited in line to get a chance to ride the huge, white, wooden roller coaster. Burt Reynolds years later blew it up in one of his movies, but today it was one of the biggest rides I had ever seen, and I want to tell you I was a little scared and excited at a chance to ride it.

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A mountain music camp adventure

Happy birthday to you… Last week that melody played over and over in my head as I began teaching some talented youth how to play the fiddle. While I have not taught in years, my friend Mark Wheeler of the three-time Dove award nominees – Marksmen Quartet asked me to help with his annual Marksmen Mountain Music Camp near Dahlonega, Ga. where children have the opportunity to get their feet wet playing a string instruments of their choice – guitar, mandolin, bass, fiddle, banjo or piano – or furthering the skills they already have by playing with seasoned professional musicians who work to inspire the musician within.

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Encourage one another

When one spends some time reviewing the sum of one’s life, one will find that there are many along the path that helps to propel an individual in one direction or another.

Over the last few years I have spent a great deal of time reflecting on those who have made an effort in my life from childhood and into adulthood.
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Should we throw out the baby with the bath water?

As an election season drags on, there always reaches a point of shear commercial overload.

For me, it’s just about now despite we are not even in the thick of it yet. I have heard enough from the candidates and just wish they would go away and let me alone for a while.
My decision is already made and I hope the rest of voters see it my way. I know whom I am going to vote for among the current crop of national, state and local candidates.
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Some flour, a broom and a lesson on being needed

As I look down at the flour on the floor and the straw of the broom as it meets the floor at the edge of heap, I swiftly move it through the white powder. In the motion, my mind sweeps over my memories and I find myself standing beside the table in my boyhood home.

My Grandma Kitty is standing at the end of the broom sweeping flour that I had managed to spill as we were preparing biscuits and getting ready to bake a batch of cookies.

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Sea sounds for the soul

The waves beat  rhythmically against the shore in an endless pattern that seemed would never stop.

I had stretched out in the back of my white Ford stationwagon  near the shore and the sound lulled me quickly to sleep.

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Cuttin’ okra and clearin’ my head

The hot summer sun beat down on the back of our necks as we moved along the rows of okra with a knife in hand stepping inch by inch between each stalk and cuttin’ off the pods from the bottom up and placing them it in our tow sacks.

My mom was up ahead in the next row and dad was a few rows over as we worked to harvest the pods before they grew too hard to eat.
Cuttin’ okra was never one of my favorite things to do largely because of the itch brought on by the hair of the deep green leaves of the plant but it had to be done every few days.

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