That was great. I love bluegrass.

Three or four years ago on one of my visits to George in south-east Ohio, his mother, Daisy, asked me to go to a church singalong with her at the local Methodist church. She'd asked just about every member of the family over the previous few months, and they'd all said no.

Well, I was a guest, and I thought it wouldn't kill me just to go along with her for an evening, I knew Daisy really wanted to go. I remember as I left George rolled his eyes and said "Have fun!". Daisy had long since given up asking him to go to those things with her.

There was a potluck, so I made sausage rolls - something new to Southern Ohio apparently, and they went down a treat. Although I hadn't expected to know anyone apart from Daisy, there were plenty of people there that I'd met before - as an English visitor to that little town I was something of a curiosity, and a trip into town on a shopping errand could take hours as people heard my accent and stopped to talk. So I met lots of people I knew, and it was a really friendly atmosphere.

After the food, the musicians set up and we all took our seats around the tables. There was a large turnout, probably around 100 people, and 20 or so musicians, some of whom had come from as far away as Kentucky and West Virginia, but most local to Southern Ohio. I was expecting it to be all rather dry, hymns and such but - wow, was I in for a surprise!

The music was pure roots bluegrass.

None of the players were professional musicians, just these old Appalachian country boys who'd been playing fiddle, banjo, mandoline and guitar all their lives. It was absolutely unbelievably awesome and I had a fantastic evening.

When I got back to the farm, George was expecting to hear a tale of woe about how boring it had all been. George loved bluegrass and he couldn't believe he'd missed both a potluck supper and some great music.

Happy, happy memories ...

Del rules. But now I think nola's just fucking with me.

Cuz it worked, dammit. He gets to James' final words to Red Molly and I lose it, like always.

*sniffle*

Ha ! I had no idea BOP. Roses for Mama always does that to me, and that has to be one of the sappiest country songs ever writen. But I'll be damned if I don't tear up every time it gets to the part where the little boy says "This is where my mommy stays. She sure thanks you for those roses" while standing over her grave. Damn you Red Sovine!

essexjan, I live in middle Tennessee and about this time of year if you take a drive you very well might find a bunch of pickers standing in the shade at a country market just a pickin' and a grinin'