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 […]
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 […]
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.
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 […]
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 […]
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 […]
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 […]
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. […]
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.
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 […]
