Went to an old time, dyed in the wool, honest to goodness Fiddlers’ Picnic on Labor Day. Bluegrass bands on the main stage. Bluegrass jam sessions in the grove under the trees. Live music everywhere.
Musicians literally from 5 years old to over 90 playing, singing and carrying on. I think that we tend to think that music is a recent invention and that it belongs to the young. Not so fast. It was a cross generational melting pot in progress. But to the point of the title.
The gathering was spread out over a large area. I parked my guitar case by a pavilion and strolled through the jams looking for one that was not in the key of G. It’s bluegrass, it’s always in G.
At some point my case is out of my sight. I know it’s back there somewhere and I know, I just know that it will be there when I get back. No one will have rifled through it or swiped the loose change that for some reason lives in the case.
Where else can you leave something in a public place surrounded by people and expect to find that item exactly where you left it?
Sometimes it’s good to take that leap.