The Bluegrass Festival at Sertoma Youth Ranch...


I have never seen so many RV's in my life. Monica, Brian, Allan, and I were the only people under sixty at the entire event. A few scraggly, dirty, rambunctious eleven-year olds were running around the camp on Sunday, but they don't count. A couple of young looking bearded guys with a dog and leather motoring hats arrived on Saturday but we were there first. The bands played on a stage under an open pavilion. Behind the stage, a wall was painted red and strategic white lines were painted over the red to resemble a giant old-fashioned barn door. I was ready for a ho-down under the tin roof of the pavilion, but all of the dancing space was occupied by hundreds of motely fold-out chairs, with names like "Derrion" and "W.Zortehiemer" puff-painted on their backs. The gang and I were chair theifs--like mockingbirds, we would sit in these retiree's unoccupied nests until they returned. They never minded anyways--everyone was so nice. Lots of people wore blue T-shirts that said "IT AIN"T BLUEGRASS IF IT DON"T HAVE A BANJO."
If I looked good in T-shirts I would have bought one. (I hate T-shirts).

Despite some tragic personal events that required Allan to drive me back to Gainesville on Saturday afternoon (one word--Baby'sdaddy) I had a great time.

The highlight of the event was Friday night when we loaded up on coke and whiskey and then went off looking for a jam session. They were everywhere. Monica and I brought our guitars, but we didn't play them. Monica was shy and kept hers in her softshell case across her back--I carried mine in my hands but just sat there with it, hugging it on my lap. Brian and Allan were afraid that they couldn't hang but before they knew it they were picking away on their mandolins. We didn't know it until afterwards, but they were playing with internationally renowned bluegrass superstars.

Then some old jerry-garcia looking man asked me " can you play that thang or do you just set thar and hold it? " and I told him I was just beginning and he said "hell, it don't matter" and before I knew what was happening I was sitting on a stool humoring him with my dorky bluegrass version of the house of the rising sun. Even more amazingly, I was actually singing too. And then someone picked up a string-bass and then another bearded man named "Herb" picked up his guitar and then Allan on the mandolin joined in and a banjo joined in and a crowd formed around to listen. And a nice old man named Jack was standing next to me and stomping his foot to the rythm and exclaiming "Damn! Look at that girl pick! Yeehaw!" Then Herb pulled a silver flask of whiskey out of his pocket and urged me to try some and I did and it was good and smooth. Jack had a swig too and we were all laughing.

Anyways, I never imagined in a million years that this would happen but I guess I deserve it because I have been practicing. Jack helped me out by calling out the chords for me and they gave me some advice on holding a pick better and we went around the circle starting songs and jamming out for about twenty minutes or so--it felt like forever-- and then it was my turn to lead a song and I didn't remember any more and so it all kind of ended. But it was awesome. And now I can say that I too, played with charismatic banjo legend Bobby Chris.

I decided that I really like bluegrass, it's pretty simple to do bluegrass guitar. Even better, all the songs are spiritual and soul-felt and fun to sing. I didn't even feel bad about missing church on Sunday--a lot of the songs were about God and forgiveness and love.

So what do I think about Bluegrass? I highly recommend it. Go check out the group called "Swinging Bridges." That's MY banjo player there on the cover. Yeah, that's right, I know him.