Herb Martin III, Steve Unkart, and Kody Norris at Spring Grove, Pa.
I'm headed north again, back across the Mason/Dixon Line to check out a venue I hadn't been to before. The name of it drives me nuts. Whoever owns this place could have come up with a better name than "Goofy's." I have to keep reminding myself that's not the point of the expedition on this fine, early spring day. It's another late afternoon-early evening show with Aspen Run Bluegrass Band. The weather is spectacular, there's hardly any traffic between here and Baltimore and northward to the York, Pennsylvania area. Twenty miles north of the Baltimore Beltway, near the state line, the country-side turns into rolling foothills of horse-farms and corn-fields. Winding creeks appear. The roads keep getting smaller. The trees are already beyond budding stage and sprouting green. I have a little difficulty with the change in Route numbers between Maryland and Pa. but I find the right road and head directly north to Spring Grove, Pennsylvania. I see a sign that says "28 more Miles." Then it happens. I start following a young woman in a station wagon with Maryland plates who's lolly-gagging along at 35-40-45 miles an hour. There is nothing but solid yellow-lines, lots of hills and curves, 'No-Passing' signs every mile or so, and I'm boiling. Traffic behind me is piling up. She's braking on every hill, every curve, across every little bridge over the numerous creeks. After about five miles of this nonsense, and no way to pass her, I notice my first Pa. Speed Sign: 45MPH! It stayed 45 and sometimes went down even further to 25 for the whole 28 miles. I'm glad I left home early.
I had to laugh at my impatience. It gave me a long time to sit on my rear end and enjoy the country side and listen to some favorite music. If people behind me were building their impatience with me, then so be it. It gave me time to reflect upon this part of Pennsylvania. For those who never studied their history or cared about it, this was once the Frontier. The end of the known world to the first colonists who settled beyond Philadelphia. The Susquehanna River was a natural dividing line. I was born and raised way beyond the line, westward, in what was once known as Ohio Territory. Practically all land west of central Pennsylvania was known simply as "Ohio." Where I was born and almost all the way south to Virginia was once vast tracts of property owned by George Washington. The region gave rise to numerous important historical events as the population moved toward the Ohio River. The French and Indian War, the American Revolution, the Whiskey Rebellion, the growth of the Industrial Revolution, to name a few. Back then, the Allegheny Mountains was the wall dividing civilization from barbarism and few hearty souls ventured beyond. George himself made several fascinating journeys through the area to look after his properties and attempt to collect rents, but he recorded that the population was so vile and unruly he returned empty-handed to Mount Vernon.
I'm on "The Frontier" again and thoroughly having a nice time driving along at probably some of the same speeds as George's Nag. I finally got my opportunity on a steep hill just a few miles south of Spring Grove. All clear ahead. The hell with 45 MPH. I gunned it and shot around her. She gave me a dirty look. Everybody else behind me followed suit. The laugh was on me. Spring Grove was just over the hill. Nothing much to Spring Hill except the memories I have of growing up in a place like this. A life in Suburbia took its place. I feel like some of those bluegrass songs about leaving the country and moving to Mill Town only to find out that life was better "back home." I may be thinking that, but not really. I'm pretty happy living in the 'Burbs with all the conveniences of getting from Point A to Point B and my lifestyle and employment demand that I have to be near an international airport. No international airports near York, Pennsylvania. But what I do have is the ability to drive within a hundred-mile radius of Washington, DC and Baltimore and hear some of the finest bluegrass in the United States. You heard me right, folks. We're blessed with the best. And if the bigger names aren't close to us, then they'll eventually get here to entertain us.
I like to focus on the locals. The local bands, groups, and musicians matter to me. I can always buy a ticket to a show or buy a CD or download the Stars. Modern technology has made it so much easier to access what we want most. I'd rather be on the Frontier listening to the local hard-core, or checking out some local practitioner I've heard about from somebody else; usually a local fan of that person. Back at Goofy's I run into 'followers' I'd met at Darlington, Stewartstown, and Jumbo Jimmy's. They graciously invite me to join them at their table. That's the kind of people who attend these happenings. They immediately start commenting: "Have you heard about so-and-so?" "Have you ever met this guy?" "Guess who's coming to Darlington?" A wealth of local information and gossip starts flowing. There's a whole Research Triangle of valuable bluegrass information between York, Havre de Grace, and Darlington, Maryland. It's passed on at events such as the one I'm at on this beautiful spring afternoon. Aspen Run is still two hours away from jumping up on the low stage at the end of a very breezy temporary structure at the back of the main bar and restaurant. It's nothing more than a roof and concrete floor with vinyl tenting material for walls. It can easily accommodate a hundred or more people. It's filling up at 2:30, the show doesn't start until 4:00. I'm glad I got here early. No cover charge, no minimum, no assigned seating. Get out of the way of the dancers and make all the noise you want.
The Aspen Run Bluegrass Band showed up and started setting up their equipment. They took off like a rocket at exactly 4 pm. One reason why I wanted to see these guys today is that Kody Norris (Mountain City, Tennessee) is joining them once more and that's always a guaranteed, excellent, performance. He brings forth The Ralph Stanley Gospel Book of Bluegrass as if he's the young High Priest of Opry Land. That's probably over the top, but what the hell. Aspen Run and Kody Norris combined is great entertainment - great music. I've got my eye on this young kid and the band, too. It's a pleasure to watch them work a crowd.
As the afternoon wore on and the light dimmed, no one slipped out of the place. Tomorrow is a work-day. No one seemed tired or bored. As often happens at an Aspen Run performance, the requests for favorite songs started coming. The numerous requests were fulfilled. Each set crescendoed into a better 'next-set.' They finished with my favorite, "Free Born Man." What's absolutely great about this band is how much they've improved since I first encountered them at the Lucketts Fair. Some musicians really deserve to be heard and to 'make it' (whatever that means). Aspen Run Bluegrass, and Kody Norris too, are in that category.
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