We don’t come from some ” holler” in back woods Kentucky mountains with our best coon dog sleeping on our front porch, pop’s favorite whiskey Still covered by brush down by the river, grandma’s hot fresh baked biscuits on the table and you better not be late for breakfast if you want to have anything left to eat when you get there.

Bluegrass music was created around fires on nights like this, on people’s front porches, at family cookouts with cheap Chinese lanterns hung in trees for decorations, folks rocking in chairs on their front porches. Back in mountain hollers there weren’t televisions, cell phones, indoor plumbing, or microwaves for quick dinners. People read the Bible, if they could read, and kids didn’t go to school but learned how to fish, shoot squirrels, pitch pennies, and say their prayers real nice.

Alan and Joan have a discussion. Neal tends our camp fire, and Max and Weston move their hands and fingers just fine making us some Kentucky melodies.

The spirit of bluegrass is here tonight, just as meaningful as what we will hear under the big festival tent tomorrow morning.

You can be a city slicker and still know about ” hollers” , but I’m pretty certain none of us have been late to many meals.

Going back to our rural roots, even if we live in big cities, is what this bluegrass festival is all about.



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