I grew up on bluegrass; remember my daddy taking me to a bluegrass festival in Tennessee one time where we met up with my Aunt Marilyn, her former spouse (J.C. Fox), and family friends Anita ('niter) & Dexter. I recall the feeling that bluegrass gave me, one of barely controlled excitement...a racing that started in my heart, then moved to fluttering in my stomach, and made its way as tapping all the way down to my toes. I wanted to move my feet real bad when I heard a banjo getting picked or some fiddle strings (strangs) being pulled, so I understood the urge of some folks to throw down a piece of plywood and start buck dancing. It's just a body's natural reaction to all that banjo pickin' and fiddle playin.'
Broke my heart to hear of the passing of banjo player Earl Scruggs. I sure did enjoy the music he made with Lester Flatt. Eric and I always look for a chance to reference his Foggy Mountain Breakdown (like when we see a tractor-trailer on the side of the road with its hood up, we'll say something like, "Well, it looks like that feller done had him a Foggy Mountain Breakdown." And we always say it in the voice of Convoy's C.W. McCall.).
So, now that I've got banjo music stuck in your head, I'm going to go work our fifth annual GPL Links for Literacy Golf Tournament. I'm feeling a little Flatt & Scrugg-less right now...
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