The Rick Jones Benefit - A Special Event for the Maryland Bluegrass Community

 Rick Jones and Doug Kriess of Foggy Hollow Bluegrass Band

28 April 2014:



News from Sara Shock and Darlene Harris

The sign of a healthy and vibrant bluegrass community is its measure of outreach to its ailing Family Members. 2013/2014 has been an unusual year of illnesses, heart attacks, and injuries, all complicated by a winter that never seemed to end. I returned from Maine yesterday. The temperature was 36 degrees at night with still no daffodils and the willow trees just starting to show some green - it's April 27th!  After seemingly months of bad news, then came the news of Rick Jones and Joyce Sitzes losing their home, garage, and a lot of their possessions to a fire. Rick was injured but is recuperating nicely. Rick plays banjo for Foggy Hollow and the Maryland bluegrass community is responding in kind to assist Rick and Joyce. A benefit has been shaping up for a few weeks under the direction and organization of Sara Shock, Darlene Harris, and a number of volunteers. Beyond the assistance to Rick and Joyce, the event should be quite a 2014 highlight for the Maryland bluegrass community. Here are the particulars:

Date: May 24th, 2014   Place: Darlington/Dublin VFW Post #10146, 3440 Conowingo Road, Street, Md. 21154.  Admission:  $15.00 per person   Time:  1:00 till the fun ends!

Food and entertainment is included in the cost of admission, but drinks will have to be purchased separately from the VFW, since the VFW is donating the Hall for the entire day. Any one familiar with the Darlington/Dublin VFW Post knows it continues to provide some of the best traditional bluegrass entertainment in Maryland. Food, desserts, auction and raffle items and all give-aways will be donated along with the talents of Danny Paisley, Hank Snow, Northern Connection, Fastest Grass Alive, Bluestone, Short Notise, and tentatively, Blades of Grass.

Following a full day of music, the Hall will remain open for an "Open Mic" session for any musician who wants to keep the fun going. And of course, there will be a donation bucket for Rick and Joyce.
Food, money, and donation items are being accepted and coordinated by Sara and Darlene. Sara is also keeping a quick count of expected numbers. If you would like to donate please contact Sara or Darlene. I'll leave their numbers below. The initial head's up is very encouraging and will continue to grow toward May 24th. Look for more flyers, e-mails, and Facebook information as time progresses.

Sara Shock: 717-916-8318
Darlene Harris:  443-299-9705

Out To Pasture - The Maryland Music Experience

Lynn Healey and Patsy Stephens - keeping authentic country music alive in the Washington/Baltimore metro region and beyond.

 5 April 2014:  Bowie, Maryland

      I'm out to pasture.  No, not the Maryland music scene. Actually, in comparison to a lot of localities the Maryland music scene is especially alive and well. I like my bluegrass and I like it hardcore and traditional; but you all know that about me and some of the people I write about. I'm out to pasture now. Getting as old as a lot of the old-timers I see sitting in chairs and on picnic benches. They nod their heads every once in a while when somebody mentions Don Reno or Jimmy Martin. The crowds are thinning out, a fact noted by a lot of writers who want to give traditional bluegrass an early death certificate. There are commentaries too, about the music we know as bluegrass never fading out of existence. Will bluegrass music as we know it eventually go away? It's an interesting argument and one that I try and stay out of. You may as well argue about religion or basketball; both assume just about that much importance to me. I might be losing my appreciation faculties also. I might have to see a counselor. My last couple outings have been so abnormal that it's worrying my friends. Here's some bad symptoms: I've made a special effort to see (and thoroughly enjoy,) the Blue Moon Cowgirls. Last night I broke every promise I ever made to myself and went to an old country/western hang-out and caught Patsy Stephen's act: Patsy's Honky Tonk Torch and Twang in Bowie, Maryland. I hate country music. I 'll repeat that for emphasis: I hate it.  I hate the nancy-boys in torn jeans and tank-tops. I hate the mumbling, whining chicks who look like the painted ghouls who sit at the Macy's cosmetics counter up at  Tysons Corner Mall.  But wait. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm out to pasture. I stopped listening to country music around 1970. So that lets you know how old I really am. I listened to Patsy Cline and Merle Haggard. Out in California I hung around the National City section of San Diego and actually made it to Bakersfield. I have to confess that I listened to more rock and roll than country, but I know I'm not alone. A highlight of my life was meeting Freddy Fender and Porter Wagoner one time in Japan. The reason I listened to more rock and roll was because I had no appreciation of the people back then who were to become today's Masters of a particular genre of American music

       It's today, and musicologists are cataloging the Masters, picking them apart like lab rats, and arguing about whether this or that buckaroo or this or that 'Oakie' was a part of the original Bakersfield Sound. What constantly interests me is the number of  hardcore bluegrass fan-friends of mine who also keep a side collection of  Merle Haggard, Patsy Cline, George Jones, and a number of other old-timers who sang about lost love, bad drinking, and women lost to the honky tonk life. And jealousy and rage. I always like the part about the jealousy and rage - forever committed by a man who can't understand his own stupidity. The themes were always so simplistic you can't exist on a steady diet of it. We can go back though, and pick and choose the one who stood out and made great songs and great music, or had a style that was unmistakable. When George Jones died last year I went back and listened to a lot of his music - more re-listened to his music. You have to do this to gain any appreciation of the work of  the Masters so you can then gain an understanding of the stage they set for future generations. I'm always on a quest to try and sort things out - like the kid who wants to tear apart his old man's wrist-watch, or take apart a bird's nest.

      This odd turn of affairs that drove me back in the last couple of weeks to old country music actually began a few years ago when I met Lynn Healey (of the Blue Moon Cowgirls) at the Moose Lodge in Vienna, Virginia. She was part of a huge benefit for Warren Blair. The line-up of notable bluegrass musicians and bands that afternoon were mostly from Maryland. I remember Lynn's singing that day and I also remember hearing that she was involved with a group known as the Blue Moon Cowgirls. I remember that she was outstanding and holding her own with a lot of  her friends in the business. In my sordid brain I also recollect dismissing the possibility that I would ever plunk down money for a group called the Blue Moon Cowgirls. Here comes that Macy's cosmetic counter image again, and maybe even some comic references to Roy Rogers and Dale Evans. I mean I have my standards to live up to, as macho as I am. Our paths continued to cross frequently at bluegrass shows and venues around Maryland and Virginia. Lynn would always give me a big hug and a howdy and then add, "You'll have to come out and see the Cowgirls next time!" Yeah, Lynn in your dreams. Stick to Bluegrass.

      I love this music business and the folks involved. It goes byzantine at times sending me down strange pathways and dark hollows. I end up getting lost trying to find addresses that are wrong on Google, roads that are wrong. All this technology and the best navigational tool I keep in my glove compartment is a $9 Swedish compass I bought years and years ago at K-Mart. It's the first thing that goes in my carry-on when I'm traveling overseas on my various assignments. The labyrinth of  Maryland bluegrass and social media, and the connection to Lynn Healey,  led me to two other women who are an important part of this crazy story. I'll mention their names now: Karen Collins and Pat (Patsy) Stephens. I knew Karen Collins had her own country band called "Karen Collins and the Back Roads Band." Some friends had recommended I see them some time. Patsy and I had connected mysteriously through Facebook just because I'm interested in anything going on musically in Maryland and her name, and the name of the band, came up on shared schedules in some of the venues I hang out in. Patsy and I passed some messages back and forth and I promised to "come out some time and take in a show." I was serious about the comment. I'm a Patsy Cline fan as much as I'm a Jimmy Martin fan.  It turned into a comedy of errors. A busy Fall, 2013 bluegrass season. A terrible 2014 winter of crazy unpredicted snow and ice storms. On a final attempt to see Patsy over in Rockville, Maryland a Semi overturned on the Cabin John Bridge and stopped traffic between Maryland and Virginia for six solid hours! I surrendered. Gave up on ever spending an evening covering a country band that specializes in Honky Tonk music. The pathways are strange indeed.

      Another "dicey" night recently wherein the gods of winter were still threatening. I had my sights on a bluegrass band in Maryland on a Saturday night but the more I looked out the window the more I was deciding not to push my luck getting stuck in Baltimore somewhere. I checked my calendar and noticed the Blue Moon Cowgirls were playing at the Holy Cross Lutheran Church in Herndon, Virginia. It takes us 20 minutes to get there from Vienna, and besides we hadn't been there in a while. Almost at the last minute I said to Connie, "Let's Go!" It was a totally objective decision just to get out of the house and do something different and we had no expectations of what we were about to witness or hear. I had one knowable - Lynn Healey was part of the group, so they must be pretty good. It had been a long time since we had, had so much fun sitting back and enjoying ourselves, and shock of all shocks, I got to hear and then meet Karen Collins, a diminutive slip-of-thing with one of the prettiest voices I've ever heard. It wasn't so much the purity of  her styling as it was the sense of country authenticity and passionate conviction. The range of song selections was huge; from old country, to honky tonk, to commercialized country, to mountain southern gospel. The harmonizing was seriously superb as was Ira Gitlin's guitar back-up. Ann Porcella rounded out the group with a beautiful mid-soprano. Midway through the first set I was hooked. It's really fun to sit down without any preconceived notions of  what to expect and then be pleasantly surprised. That's the joy of live music entertainment as opposed to wasting money in a movie theater and getting nothing in return except scatological references and smarmy remarks that are supposed to pass for humor, and an insight into how our society operates. It was nice to hear Lynn's singing again. But it was the unit that was important. The beautiful blend of  four entirely different voices and the simplicity of the whole package. That's what good bluegrass is supposed to be about; the simplicity of the whole package. This kind of music (bluegrass, church gospel, back-porch singing, etc.) had its origins in poverty and simplicity and the human desire to express one's self. Ed and Connie's joyous evening ended and I said a final 'so long' to Lynn Healey, Karen Collins, Ann Porcella, and Ira Gitlin. They rode off into the sunset with a rousing chorus of Roy Roger's "Happy Trails" that got the audience up on their feet with wild applause; and there was nothing corny or hokey about it. It was the perfect fit. The perfect ending.

      Maryland really is a beautiful state once you get beyond Urbia and Suburbia. Like Virginia, it's got beautiful mountains, seashore, the Chesapeake Bay, and miles and miles of rolling hills and forests and rivers. I've had a wonderful time exploring the back roads in the past few years. I use the exploration as my "Out to Pasture Time." One can get jaded quickly trying to live the upwardly mobile urban life-style based on wasting your life away in hours of traffic jams and sky-rocketing taxes. On top of all that stuff is my wanting to escape from the whiners and complainers and cry-babies who add to the general malaise and the scandalous rise in human beings permanently hooked on depression drugs. Big Brother is here. He's watching. He's trying to steal what little money we have in the bank through pandemic consumerism. There is an alternative, a way out, and that's to seek out and return to our traditional American selves. My escape valve at this point in my life is bluegrass music. God knows how I ever got hooked on it. I look back in wonder at my upbringing, my liberal arts training in the finer things things in life, my love for Ballet and Opera and a particular mania for the Baroque and Romantic periods in art and music. My mind boggles as I'm wending my way around the Beltway and I'm scanning the signs for the proper exit to Bowie, Maryland. I have a date with destiny. I finally get to see Patsy Stephens and her band, "Patsy's Honky Tonk Torch and Twang." What a great name for a band. You have to consider everything the name implies. I've never been to Bowie, Maryland. I really had no idea what I would find. A few miles beyond our infamous Beltway and into old Maryland country; swaths of pasture and forest and then suburban developments feeding all the commuter traffic onto the asphalt arterial systems surrounding Washington, D.C. that great humbug on the Hill, the City of smoke and mirrors and petty war-lords protecting their special interests and campaign coffers.

      Beautiful. Google has once again given me the wrong site and I  go three miles out of my way trying to find the Old Bowie Town Grille. Nothing to do but go back in the opposite direction. Where Google fails me the railroad lines never do. I followed them back and found the Grille. I was a half hour late. I hate being late for anything. Entering the upstairs area, I encountered a guy with a goatee who eye-balled me. I asked him if he was looking to get paid for a cover charge. "What's your name?" he asked. I told him, and then he invited me in. That was rather odd, I thought, and later I found out "Bobby Joe" would be an integral part of this tale. Patsy Stephens was already into her first set. She gave me a nod of recognition from the band-stand and a big smile. The Old Bowie Town Grille is an artfully refurbished building smack dab in the middle of Old Bowie. The upstairs area can hold 90 to 105 people and is arranged with long tables for seating. The flooring is perfect for a dance crowd. Unlike most bars and restaurants I'm accustomed to for bluegrass, the Grille is roomy and well-lit. I watched "Bobby Joe" work the crowd and later found out he was the owner and proprietor. "Patsy's Honky Tonk Torch and Twang" is Pat 'Patsy' Stephens, the Hall Brothers (Chris and Chick), Mike Toole, and Tommy Auldridge. Alan Oresky sat in as guest-fiddler. All the waiting had paid off. All the miss-fired dates that had gotten screwed up. I got my fill of Patsy Cline and a host of other great songs by female country stars pre-1970. Not only that genre, but old hits that blurred the mind with memories. Patsy and the band are walking juke-boxes of good, old-time country, rock and roll, and easy-listening.

      Midway in the evening Patsy invited "Bobby Joe" up to do a few numbers. He launched into Buck Owens' "They're Gonna Put Me in the Movies" and organized bedlam followed, along with a crowded dance floor. Then Conway Twitty's "Only Make Believe." The crowd begged for three more. I had to meet this guy and talk to him. I suspected there was more to him than meets the eye and I was right. He's a Marine (no such thing as an ex-Marine or a former Marine). He has his own band and his actual name is Robert J. Thompson. He goes by the name "Bobby Joe Owens."  He enthusiastically put two CD's in my hand and talked on and on about bringing good, live music to Bowie. He was quite happy with the turn-out for Patsy's group. I got so pumped up talking to him and Patsy that I left that night not paying for my three Sprites. I sent him a message later and promised I wasn't trying to swindle him and that I would give him a couple of bucks the next time I was in Bowie. Like MacArthur, I told him I was coming back.

      A lot of good things happen when you decide to put yourself out to pasture. Go slumming. Get away for a while from the humdrum of  life. I was having such a good time and watching everyone else have a good time that I nearly missed seeing an old friend in the room. I walked over to her and she gave me that wide-eyed look she's famous for. Good Lord! Of all people it was Lynn Healey. It's a small world connected with a lot of  fascinating stories. Lynn was there to help celebrate a Birthday for Andy Bryson. The audience was treated to Birthday Cake. I walked out without paying my tab. I was humming "Crazy" by Patsy Cline. I met some nice people along the way and made my way back to the City of Smoke and Mirrors. 

            

    

Robert Mabe . . . In His Words

 Robert Mabe,  Dry Mill Road Band, appearing at the Lost Rhino Brewing Company March 7th, 2014, 

right before the band's engagement at Carnegie Hall.

4 April 2014
(Robert Mabe - Dry Mill Road Band, Winchester, Virginia, recently posted this on Facebook. I thought it worth a re-print. If you think you want to make music you should read this.)

     "There are so many great musicians out there with lots of talent. They can play anything within seconds of hearing it. They play flawless solos and super fast lines. They can do anything except for one . . .Don't get me wrong. I am very impressed by all this and respect the hell out of some of these "super pickers'" abilities but there is something missing. What is missing is musical conversation, interaction, brotherhood, and building up the guy next to you on stage. Being in the business of music, I see lots of very talented musicians and lots of times the crowd is buzzing about a band of "super pickers" that are coming on stage. Although it's always a very impressive display to see a group of local musicians considered to be the best around get up and wow the audience with their licks, it does get boring, when the expectations are to see a 'Band.'  Each song turns into several 30 second segments of one guy trying to outshine the other. There is no communication. There is no building up your brother. No journey, no imagination, and certainly, no 'song.'

     What seems more difficult and satisfying at the same time, is five personalities and five different instruments working together, making a beautiful sound that sounds like it's coming from one source.  Yes, it's difficult to do what some of these local heroes do on their instruments; and most of us will never even think of all those notes, much less play them.  For me the true talent is in the bands you see working together, helping each other, communicating, and thinking about the group and not the individual. That applies on and off stage.  I am lucky to be in a band like Dry Mill Road.  Bad nights, good nights, bad pay, no pay, 1,000-mile road trips, etc etc. I know that my band mates will be there for me. I also know for sure they give everything to make every song we play sound the best it ever has. I got into music for lots of reasons, but one of the most satisfying things about playing live music for me, is coming off stage with a feeling that you and your band-mates just connected and made amazing music together."

(You can begin in total obscurity in the foot-hills of the Blue Ridge and five years later find yourself standing on the stage at Carnegie Hall in New York City. Dry Mill Road recently accomplished that. It happened because they take their music and their sense of professionalism quite seriously. -  Ed Henry)

My Head is Spinning.

2 April 2014:

     Everybody's sick and my head is spinning. Nah, I'm not sick. I'm perfectly well as a matter of fact; but it seems like everyone else is sick. My head is spinning from so much good entertainment in the past couple of weeks. I'm on a streak which began March 22nd with another Blue Train appearance up in Felton, Pennsylvania, at the Union Volunteer Fire Company. You can never be disappointed at a Blue Train event - and I wasn't disappointed with the program that's going on in Felton at the Fire House. Young Corey Robertson is the major domo spear-heading an effort to bring regularly programmed bluegrass to Felton, Pa. He started out in January with Fastest Grass Alive, then in February with Foggy Hollow, and Blue Train's appearance in March rounded up the series. I'm in agreement with a whole lot of others: keep it up. keep it going. Felton is a tiny backwater sort of  town south of  York, Pa. and northeast of  Shrewsbury, off  Rt. 83. There didn't appear to be much going on there except along Main Street six or seven stately old Victorian houses were still festooned with Christmas lights and it looked neat to see them. The crowd at the Firehouse was small by standards, and sedate, but Blue Train livened up the place by the time they got into the second set. A particular group of Blue Train camp-followers humorously known as the "Blue Train Singers and Dancers" showed the Felton audience that you can listen to some serious bluegrass and have fun at the same time. The third set topped them all. More of  the audience joined the dance floor and I had fun talking to such favorite local musicians as Dave Robertson, Tim Pritchard, Harold Tipton, Carroll Swam, and Dean Phillips. There was also a following from Goofy's Eatery and Spirits in Spring Grove, Pa. Sara Shock, Donny and Cathy, plus a few others. It was good to see everyone, especially Donny, who's looking better everyday since his stroke this winter.
     It's a good start on a venture worth pursuing as long as an audience supports it and makes it worthwhile for the musicians. I have to hand it to the volunteers that night, too. They made everyone feel welcomed and kept the kitchen hopping. With all the musical talent available to Corey and his team in the York area, this effort to bring quality bluegrass to Felton could go on for a long time. It's up to the folks in Felton to - 'next time, invite and bring along a friend!'  For more information click on feltonfireco.org. or find them on Facebook at "Felton Fire Company."

Corey Robertson (at microphone) gets ready to introduce Blue Train to the Felton Fire Hall audience.

29 March 2014: Herndon, Virginia 

     We had a chance tonight to see the Seldom Scene for free in Fairfax City. I opted instead to entice Connie out to the Holy Cross Lutheran Church Bluegrass Series and pay  $24 to see the "Blue Moon Cowgirls." What, you ask? Why would I want to do that? Number one, I'm not too thrilled with girl groups, and Number 2, I'm not too thrilled with anything that sounds like I'm going to have to listen to cowboy songs all night. I thought it a good idea to experience a change of pace, and besides Lynn Healey is part of the group and so is Karen Collins. I've always appreciated Lynn's singing. It's quite a line-up of talent and experience; experience that goes way beyond the Washington, D.C. and Baltimore metro areas. The group is Ira Gitlin on guitar and Karen Collins, Ann Porcella, and Lynn Healey. Although they all play instruments at various times throughout the evening, the strength is in the vocal harmonies. The second set was a presentation of each singer's abilities through show-case solos. The play-list was rich with bluegrass, gospel, mountain ballads, a touch of Les Paul and Mary Ford, and yes, some Roy Rogers and Dale Evans "Happy Trails" as a finale.
     It was the right change of pace - no doubt. We thoroughly enjoyed the evening and so did everyone else. I've been to Bob Thompson's bluegrass series a lot and have always enjoyed his offerings. On this night I was surprised to see a nearly-full house, and a house that responded so enthusiastically to the Blue Moon Cowgirls.

The Blue Moon Cowgirls at Holy Cross Lutheran Church in Herndon, Virginia

30 March 2014:  Port Deposit, Md.

     Northern Connection is playing again at Jumbo Jimmy's Crab Shack today. A beautiful warm Sunday, and lo and behold I look out the door and it's snowing, raining, sleeting. Within seconds it's as if God turned out all the lights. We're doomed. Another unpredicted late winter (or is it spring yet?) storm. You figure it can't last, but it does, and leaves all the major highways covered in slush. Cars are sliding around Tysons' Corner as I try to get on the Beltway towards Maryland. Then rain. Buckets and buckets of rain slowing down traffic to a crawl and stops and starts. Oddly, it all ends near the exit for Columbia, Maryland and I'm home free until I reach Port Deposit and the snow starts again. I'm thinking nobody is going to show up today to see Frankie Short and Northern Connection. The house had a lot of people when I entered and the band started. That was a surprise; and then more showed up as the late afternoon progressed into evening. In reality, this was only the third official gig for Frankie's new band and I had to be reminded of that by Frankie himself.  The first set was fabulous. Tight, old-school bluegrass and I like that style. Leading most of the vocals is Mark Seitz, who along with playing amazing mandolin, anchors all the group's vocals. A real sleeper in the group is bass-player Brian Eldreth, who is also an excellent vocalist. Combined, the group is a like a box of  fresh dynamite;  under Frankie's watchful eye and keen ear, it's tightly controlled combustion. But that was only part of the fun.

      Beginning in the second set and into the third, Fiddler/singer Warren Blair joined in, along with Keri Seitz, Darlene Harris, and AcrossTheTrack Bluegrass's lead vocalist, Darin Wassum. There was a lot of yelling going on. "Get up here, Darin!" "Come on quick-time." Frankie would yell. Frankie would have made an excellent Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant. I get a great pleasure watching how people handle roles of  leadership. I like Frankie's method of  brass-tacks, get it done, the music's starting, do it now. No chaos. No mess. The program flowed as well as it should have and in accordance with the energy being produced on Jumbo Jimmy's old worn dance floor. The dance floor was never hotter than when T.J. Lundy and Warren Blair combined for driving fiddle duets. Part Barn Dance, part old-time crooning, part fiddling contest, Northern Connection connected. Frankie Short needs to take this extravaganza energy package out on to a broader highway and a bigger audience. They'll be back at Jumbo Jimmy's on April 13th at 4:00.

  Frankie Short and Northern Connection at Port Deposit, Md. 30 March 2014

Maryland Bluegrass Provides the Warmth

   

 AcrosstheTrack Bluegrass at one of its many appearances at Jumbo Jimmy's

13 March 2014:

     This has been a productive winter season for Maryland bluegrass, even through all the bad weather. You're probably like me,  sick and tired of  hearing about the winter of 2013/2014. I'm old enough to remember winters which were worse, so I keep that in mind when I hear carping and complaining. Positive thinking requires me to go off into day-dreaming about fresh corn and ripe tomatoes while folks are crying the blues about having to dig out their driveways. Blah, blah, blah. The seasons are so wonderful because they always change and here in my neck of the woods, we have glorious season-changes. Spring can't be beat. It's just around the bend. The song birds tell me so every morning now, and they're smarter than any meteorologist. Throughout the cold and the extended darkness there was always the light and warmth of the music, richly supported by a community of good folks who enjoy gathering under the banner of bluegrass, and the love of traditional bluegrass. This has been a winter wherein, I found myself practically setting up a winter reporting/campaign headquarters at Jumbo Jimmy's Crab Shack in Port Deposit, Maryland, due to the fact that I think it has some of the best bluegrass music you can discover in our region. Maryland has a lot of great places to hear traditional bluegrass. In a down economy when bars and restaurants and night clubs are crying the blues over lost customers, the outposts of acoustical music in Maryland aren't thriving and getting rich, but they're surviving with a vigor that is encouraging, to say the least. One of the projects I always wanted to complete has come to fruition and I thank the folks who are using it - my Maryland Traditional Bluegrass Calendar. In one week I got over a thousand hits on it which actually shocked me, because you have no idea who's reading this stuff. I had another huge reason for designing the Calendar. If you'll log on to it and take notice, I've been running it since Christmas. It's now going on toward Easter and I am keeping all the 2014 dates. I'll keep running them. Reason? At the beginning of 2015 I want to tally it up. I want to study it for its record of  how much traditional bluegrass music is going on in Maryland, who's playing it, and which places in Maryland and beyond that are keeping the Baltimore/Maryland Bluegrass music scene alive. There are a lot of them. They believe in the music too, as long as the music is drawing customers to the bar, dance-floor, and dining tables. It's all part of the entertainment system and neither one can do without the other.

     As I look back, and more important, look forward,  Jumbo Jimmy's Crab Shack was my microcosm of the Bluegrass Community. Jerry, Roger, George, Rex, and Yvonne rolled out the good-time music like a welcome mat while Doreen would practically throw or slam down an iced-tea in front of me when I walked in the door. She's the brains and manual labor behind a great bluegrass program for the Crab Shack. Then the Lundy's would arrive and take their usual table. Joyce Miller is the Grand Matron of Bluegrass and a walking history book, and Chubby's always at her side. They start filtering in before the band starts and you'll more than likely see anybody in bluegrass here on a Sunday afternoon. Charlie, Darlene, Robin, Tina, Kim, Fran and Gail, Dempsey and Rebecca, Frankie and Shelly, Warren and Kenny Blair, Jim Langer or Darin Wassum; the list goes on and on. It's been a year of sickness, illness, injuries, and heartache, and this is where you get your latest updates on Danny, Frankie, or Mike. There is a shared sense of true caring; darned-near like a small church gathering, and that's not a stretch to say that. The celebrations were good, too. New bands emerged and succeeded to prove to the community that they could win an audience. One of my all-time favorites called it quits. And ironically, that was one of the best parties of the year at Jumbo Jimmy's. The players are not really gone. They're here. They'll show up in other configurations and keep the flame alive.

     As spring moves onward to summer, I'll be moving reporting/campaign headquarters northward and over the Mason-Dixon line to Goofy's Eatery and Spirits in Spring Grove, Pa. The reason's an easy one. You haven't lived until you've experienced 'Whitey' Runkle's bluegrass music offerings at his 'Back Pavilion.' It's a memory factory. You can lay back and be reminded of all the good times and good songs or get as wild as you want on the dance floor. No one really cares - as long as you're having fun and enjoying the music. What counts in the end though, is the community, and Whitey has fostered an extraordinary one. Whitey draws in the popular Maryland bands right along with some good ones from Pennsylvania. Spring is right around the corner. But while the temperatures remain cold, Maryland bluegrass is here to warm up the dance floor.

Additional Bluegrass/Gospel in Maryland for the March 15th Weekend

Saturday, March 15, 2014:  from 7:00 pm to 10:00 pm the Charles County Arts Alliance presents "The Cabin Fever Gospel Barn Dance" at the Grace Brethren Church, 13000 Zekiah Drive in Waldorf, Maryland. Groups featured will be Crossroads, Jay Armsworthy & Eastern Tradition, and Sonrise. No admission price but an offering will be taken.

Sunday, March 16, 2014:  Jay Armsworthy and the Sons of the American Legion present Dale Ann Bradley and her Band, plus Chris Tenney and Riverside South. Doors open at Noon and the music starts at 2:00. Admission: $15.00. Barbeque will be available for purchase before the show! The location is the Hughesville American Legion Post, in Hughesville, Maryland.

For additional information contact: 301-737-3004 or at www.americanlegionbluegrass.com

On to a Higher Calling

23 February 2014   "By Name I have Called You."

Hello My Friend!

     I realize I missed some important dates on my bluegrass calendar by being away in San Francisco. I actually tried to find some bluegrass while I was out there, but sadly, nothing compares to what exists (in spades!) in Maryland and Virginia. I keep trying to tell people it doesn't compute on the west coast, but people won't believe me. I checked in on the Northern California Bluegrass Association website to find out what was going on, and the site hadn't been updated in a year. The local site for San Francisco listed one band playing at a place called the Atlas Cafe. I would have one chance to catch a band that called itself "Hillbilly Robot." The name was enough to tell me I didn't want to see what they had to offer (advertised as bluegrass/Americana). I went on Youtube to see what they had posted, and was further convinced not to waste my money. The music was so obtuse it only deepened my suspicion that real bluegrass music out here is probably practiced by secret cults that meet behind locked doors. Nine days in California and the best music I heard was on the way out, and on the way back to Virginia on the Virgin America Airline playlists. Great! Ten hours of  flight time listening to "The Bakersfield Sound." with Merle Haggard, Vince Gill, and Buck Owens. When I was stationed at Twenty-nine Palms Marine Corps base in the 60's Bakersfield was not that far away and I knew that real country music was being produced there. We were told to stay away from Bakersfield unless we wanted to end up with our throats cut with a broken beer-bottle. Hearing that only added to the curiosity factor and so, I had an early taste of Bakersfield. And no regrets since Bakersfield is now in the annals of  musicological history.

     I set my bluegrass addiction aside. After all, the music business and music world, and the world that musicians inhabit, is, to put it simply,  a recreational pursuit. It's like golf or shooting pool. It's the way human beings are entertained in their spare-time. As long as hominids are willing to plunk down money to be entertained for a short period, there will be entertainers. Some of them actually acquire fame and great riches from the endeavor to make people happy. I feel mentally healthy enough to see where the guide-lines are in this pursuit of happiness. There are priorities in life. I don't think I truly understood it until the birth of our one-and-only grand daughter. She's the reason I had to put everything aside and fly out to San Francisco. She goes to a private school endorsed by the French school system, and my daughter-in-law had to make a trip to France to clear up some family business. Connie and I enjoyed the opportunity to go out for nine days and play guardian while she was off  for school vacation. As I stated, there are understandings and insights that come much later in life, and they smack you in the face like a true moment of epiphany. When I was a working guy in an office full of males, I used to roll my eyes when the men dug out pictures of their grandchildren and would exclaim, "Look at what he's doing!" or "Look at my grand daughter. Isn't she a doll?" Then they would caveat every exclamation with, "Oh yeah, right. You're not a grand father yet, Well, You Wait!" It was like being right out of boot camp and being called a boot again. We go through life in the 'continual boot status.' There's always somebody older and with more experience to bring us back down to humility.

     With that humility you begin to experience blessings. There are plenty of grand fathers (even in my own circle of friends and associates) who for whatever reason, are alienated from their children and grand children. A family squabble turns into divorce and court battles and an endless litany of misery. No family is immune. I've heard too many truly sad stories. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm the lucky one in this picture of societal breakdown. My grand daughter is now 8 years-old and it's been the greatest eight years of my adulthood. I've had time to experience all those joys the other grand fathers told me would happen. Of course I never believed any of  the stories; cynic that I am. There is another blessing I have to mention, too. I'm healthy enough to really enjoy hiking, horse-camp, and lots of outdoor activities as I watch her develop all the marvelous skills she has. It's also nice to know that she thinks I'm crazy. A sense of humor is mandatory in the Henry family, along with an artistic temperament.

     The world can stop tomorrow. I'm on a higher calling. I've been thinking for these past eight years that my whole life has just been Boot-Training for this period of my life when I can enjoy it with my grand daughter. I understand that my name was called the day I was born (as all of our names are called). Then in a second life the names of our grand children are called too, and we have to answer the call as grand parents. We begin to try and figure it all out. Life meanders on, sometimes blessed and not so blessed, and then new life enters to show us a new path of responsibilities, caring, and commitment to be the best that we can for our grand children. I've always referred to it as the "Second Set of Dreams." Just when we think we've had enough of this or that, God sends us a second chance through the beauty of the birth of our grand children. He gives us a second chance to take another look at life and make us realize that life is pretty good. I've been thinking a lot, too, of  my own grand father. He left me with wonderful memories of  learning to handle a rifle and fishing for long hours on the banks of the Allegheny River. Dad never took the time to do these things. My grand father taught me skills that paid off  later in the war in Vietnam. I want to leave good memories for my grand daughter. We have  to treasure every minute of  the Second Set of  Dreams. It's all in God's time and we can't waste any of  it on things that don't really matter in the final analysis.