Reflecting on the things that Form us.

I remember being eight years old. 

My daddy would come home greasy and tired from working in the mechanics shop all day. My momma would make us a dinner, then, every Thursday night from 8:00 - 10:00 my Poppa would tune the radio dial to "Basically Bluegass", a full two hour show of ballads and reels and the richest old-time folk harmonies and country breakdowns. I'd lay on the couch in the partial dark, and let the music permeate all of my young receptive heart. I think this is when I first really started learning about beauty. The music painted pictures, and told stories, and I'd lay there watching it all, mesmerized, with my eyes closed.

Sometimes I'd get to stay up past my bedtime, but even when I couldn't, my Daddy would tuck me in, and keep the hallway door open, with the sound turned up real high, so I could still listen. Those were good memories, the whole house still, with everyone in bed, as Tim O'Brian or Bill Monroe filled up the dark.

Since then, my heart has grown branches, and learned to like a lot of different kinds of music. Songs from lot's of genres reach inside, to have their beauty felt in a strong ways... But it wasn't until recently that I realized my roots are and always shall be in Bluegrass. Bluegrass was the gate to everything else. It feels good to have those roots. I wouldn't want it any other way. I'm thankful to my French-Canadian Father, who, along with many other good things, gave me that.