A day of bluegrass in Asheville.

As I drove towards Asheville on Friday I listened to the Avett Brothers's cd, "Emotionalism". The Avett Brothers aren't bluegrass, but they're a North Carolina band and it felt right for my drive to the Bluegrass First Class Festival. It was a clear, beautiful day and the soundtrack served me perfectly.

When I got to Asheville the Map App on my phone had me do a U-turn onto a major road without enough room for a U-turn. I almost got hit as I had to reverse in order to complete the maneuver. Less than half a mile later it had me cut across three lanes of major traffic on a strip of Interstate that was just 40 yards long. If I didn't make the exit I would be forced back onto another Interstate that would run me out of town. The cars were steady and constant, and I still don't quite know how I managed to do it without getting in a major accident. I guess all the driving in L.A. helped, but when I finally arrived at the Crowne Plaza Resort I thanked God that I was there in one piece.

I had to circle around the parking lot a few times to figure out where it was okay to park since some areas were off limits. On one of my trips I saw Junior Sisk walking through the lot with a couple of his band members. I immediately knew that this was going to be an intimate affair with plenty of potential interaction with the bands as opposed to a strict separation between performers and attendees. I almost rolled down my window and threw out a hearty, "Hey Junior!" as he walked by, but I decided to let him continue on without interruption.

The scene in the lobby was fairly chaotic with lots of people milling about and several large lines going different places. It was enough to immediately confuse all newcomers as to where they should go for what. It took me a few minutes to find the right line to claim my ticket in, and no sooner had I gotten in it than I saw the Ross brothers walk in with their instruments. Because of all the crowds they got held up right next to me giving me a chance to exchange a "hello" and a "welcome" with them. A couple ladies in their party ended up getting in line behind me since they didn't know where the bands were suppose to check in at. They were understandably a little frazzled since the Ross Brothers were opening in the Sunken Lobby in less than 25 minutes. I told them I wasn't sure where the band check-in was, but offered them to take my spot in line so they could find out that much sooner. One of the ladies said they asked a gentleman who worked there where to go, but that he wasn't much help. I commented, "that's pretty messed up that you guys are opening the Sunken Lobby and no one can even direct you to the proper check in. You'd think being the opening act they wouldn't just leave you hanging like that." As soon as I finished my thought a hotel employee cleared his throat with disgust over my shoulder before offering to take the women to band check in. A few minutes later I got my VIP pass and a day of bluegrass began.

I alternated between performances in the Sunken Lobby and the Grand Ballroom. From 12:00pm - 6:00pm I saw the Ross Brothers, Junior Sisk and Ramblers Choice, The Grascals, Rhonda Vincent and the Rage, and Mountain Faith. They were all great performances. At six I went to the hotel bar for dinner. I almost put myself out of commission. I bought a chicken finger basket for much more than it should be, but a nice a couple from Virginia shared their large pizza with me making up for the pitiful serving of chicken fingers. While I got to know my new friends I drank three Guinness drafts on a stomach that was emptier than usual and on less sleep than I'm use to. I got really tired and wondered if I was still going to make it to midnight.

I wandered in a few minutes late to Junior Sisk's second performance of the day. He said in the first show that he was getting over the flu, but he still put on a great show. At this performance you could tell he felt terrible and although he was doing his best it wasn't the same as the first one. I was really glad I caught them the first time around. I wandered out to the Sunken Lobby and caught the very end of Laurel Creek's performance. After that I went back to The Grand Ballroom for Rhonda Vincent's next show. She put on another great one and I got to meet her, Hunter Berry (violin), and Aaron McDaris (banjo) afterward. Rhonda signed her new cd, "Taken" for me and we took a picture together.

I made it back in to catch the very end of The Grascals second show which led into Daily and Vincent who were highlighting the event. Daily and Vincent put on a great and really entertaining show that ended around 12:15am. It was a great day of bluegrass that I'm really glad I was a part of.

What vagabonding is not.

Vagabonding is not to be confused with a mere vacation, where the only goal is escape. - Rolf Potts

Likewise, vagabonding is not merely an extended or long-term vacation. It's not a series of vacations strewn together so as to avoid as much "work" and "responsibility" as possible. Vagabonding is in no way an escape or a distraction. If it were any of these things it would be an unhealthy, secondary pursuit drawing one away from the necessary and important things of life that should really hold one's attention and focus. This is why some people take a negative view of vagabonding and the vagabonding lifestyle. Some view others they hardly know with contempt for missing the ball and giving themselves completely to a life of "vacation" and "escape". Others view the one's they love with sadness and fear as they perceive them to be throwing away the important things of life to a point of no return. While these reactions can sometimes stem from a difference in philosophical viewpoint they can also result from one seeing vagabonding for what it is not rather than what it is.

The businessman father who hasn't tapped into the "Truth" and importance of religion thinks his son who is called to the ministry is making a foolish decision and is throwing away the blessings of life to devote himself to a false reality of sanctity and religious necessity. Similarly, the working father who sees a 40 hour a week job, a wife and kids, and a nuclear existence of material comforts and blessings as a "Truth" and faith in and of itself thinks his son who is called to a life of vagabonding is making a foolish decision and is throwing away the blessings of "security" and "stability" to devote himself to the frivolous and selfish pursuit of "constant vacation".

To truly understand the vagabonding lifestyle one must first stop "seeing" vagabonding for what it is not. This calls for understanding it for what it is.

True vagabonding is an art and a calling just like true ministry is an art and a calling. God calls individuals to be preachers because a full devotion allows one a deeper understanding that can be shared with the others who have received separate and no less important callings elsewhere. God calls individuals to be vagabonders because a full devotion to travel allows one a deeper understanding of the world and its inhabitants that can then be shared with others who have received a separate and no less important calling that doesn't allow for such intensive and extended travel. Just as the ministry is for a handful, vagabonding is for a handful as well. This doesn't mean that those who haven't been "called" to the ministry should cease from pursuing God on their own, just as those who haven't been "called" to vagabonding shouldn't cease from pursuing travel as they can. But it helps to realize that both these "callings" are meant for a handful and that no one is claiming that they are higher than other callings or that everyone should devote themselves to them. On the contrary not everyone should be vagabonders.

Once one sees vagabonding for what it is, differences of opinion towards it become philosophical as opposed to prejudiced misconceptions. It becomes a discussion of what is truly important in life; something that each man must answer for himself. As creatures geared towards "survival" who find safety in numbers and within the unit, we tend to view those who step outside the flow as reckless and self-destructive. Rarely do we recognize that evolution and growth as a species comes from healthy change within the foundation of what's already working. So while society continues to function on the stability that's gotten us to where we are, let us not crush the individuals stepping outside the mechanism allowing for the evolution of the species.

As a vagabonder, I encourage those who don't fully understand the calling and the lifestyle to take a first step and stop seeing vagabonding for what it is not. Should our philosophical differences remain at that point, so be it.

Vagabonding is -- at its best -- a rediscovery of reality itself. - Rolf Potts

Bluegrass First Class Festival

I recently bought a ticket for the 16th Annual Bluegrass First Class Festival in Asheville, North Carolina. It's a three day event taking place February 18th - 20th at the Crowne Plaza Resort. The entire resort has been reserved for bluegrass attendees. Tickets can be purchased for the entire weekend or for an individual day. I opted to purchase a Friday only VIP Pass for $45 as opposed to a Friday-Saturday pass for $90. Sunday is included in either purchase as free for all ticket holders of any kind. I believe they're holding a bluegrass worship service of sorts on Sunday, but I'll have to miss that for work. Since I live so close to Asheville I don't have to worry about hotel accommodations, although Crowne Plaza will be hosting many attendees.

My "Friday VIP All Access Pass" grants me entrance to anything going on that day as part of the festival. Along with impromptu jamming allowed throughout the resort with the exception of one "quiet wing", there will be workshops, classes, and constant performances from 12pm until 12 midnight. The performances take place in the Grand Ballroom and the Sunken Lobby, and both places feature a constant line-up of acts allowing you to pick and choose who you'd like to see throughout the day. The Grand Ballroom features the event's headliner acts and the Sunken Lobby features local and regional bands.

The headliner acts for Friday are:

The Grascals
Daily and Vincent
Rhonda Vincent and The Rage
Junior Sisk and Ramblers Choice
Lorraine Jordan and Carolina Road

The local and regional acts include (and are subject to change):

The Ross Brothers
Barbwire
Screech Owl Serenade
Rabon Creek
Mountain Faith
Bostic Yard
Laurel Creek
Sweet Tater Band

The main acts all perform twice in the Grand Ballroom allowing one to flexibly choose between the offering of main acts and local/regional talent. I haven't yet determined who I'll plan to see when, but I'm sure I'll catch all the headlining acts while supplementing them with some of the Sunken Lobby performances.

For more information about the event or if you're interested in purchasing tickets go to www.bluegrassfirstclass.com. I hope to see you there.

Woody's Original Mountain Music

Last night, Cashflow and I set out into a gray, rainy evening in the mid-30's and headed for Marion, thankful that we didn't get the snow or ice that had been predicted all week. I had called Max Woody earlier in the afternoon to ask him a few questions about Woody's Original Mountain Music which is a free venue that takes place every Friday in Marion across from Max Woody's Chair Shop. He told me the weather there was about the same as Hendersonville, but that if it got worse he'd put me and Cashflow up for the night until we could get home. That was all I needed to hear to ease any concerns about the roads possibly freezing over, so we left around 5:15pm and headed towards the event.

When we arrived around 6:45pm, Mr. Woody went out of his way to greet us and make sure we got some spaghetti since we hadn't eaten yet. The spaghetti dinners were free, but they were asking for donations for a local family whose house had recently burned down. Cash and I gladly donated for our meals and to help the family. Everyone was very friendly and treated us like "family" from the moment we walked in. It reminded me of the atmosphere and reception you receive at a spirit-filled church gathering. As Cash and I set at a table off to the side eating our meals, several people came over and introduced themselves to us. At one point Mr. Woody came over and told us about the history of Foxfire; a regional organization of events and book publishing. He invited us to be his guests at the next Foxfire gathering and we told him we'd do so. He also told us to come back sometime so he could show us around his chair shop.

Around 7 0'clock the event opened with a prayer from a local pastor followed by the first of three bands. Woody's Original Mountain Music is a smaller, more intimate venue than the Bluegrass Music Jam or Old Fort Mountain Music. There's more of a focus on listening to the bands than on dancing and socializing. Dancing is permitted if one is so moved, but clogs aren't allowed since the noise would take away from the music. Mr. Woody told us that this is one of the reasons he started this venue after parting ways with Old Fort Mountain Music. Those in attendance were predominately "older folks" with just a few who might have been mid-40's. Cash and I definitely stood out as the "young men" from Hendersonville.

After the first band finished their set one of the band members came and sat next to me at the table off to the side. We shared a plate of mini powdered doughnuts during the second band's set. This band played several Hank William's numbers among other things. At one point Mr. Woody joined them on fiddle to play "Freight Train". My dad use to play this song on guitar and sing it to me when I was little and it brought back a lot of memories.

The third, and final, band was two gentlemen from Hickory, North Carolina who were making their debut at the venue. One man played the fiddle and the other played a "green" banjo. His "green" banjo looks like a mini version of a regular banjo. I won't tell you why he calls it a "green" banjo in case you ever get a chance to catch these guys and hear the story yourself. Their set came with several comical stories that would be told between songs. This banjo player was a very good storyteller and a good entertainer. One of their numbers was an old Shaker song, and while I sat listening I couldn't help but feel that I was about as close as one in the 21st century could be to sharing an authentic musical experience of my Quaker ancestors, the early Brinton settlers in Pennsylvania. For one song the banjo player brought out his "dancing bear" and for the entire song he danced his bear (see picture below) while the fiddler played. He then let a couple people in the audience try dancing the bear during other songs. He also passed out some spoons at one point so that audience members could play the spoons along with them. Their debut performance was a real hit with the crowd and after their last song (the crowd was invited to sing "You Are My Sunshine" along with them; another song my dad sang to me as a small boy) they were heartily invited to return again sometime. Like them, I'm sure I'll do the same.

Murder in Savannah.

My parents recently passed along the book Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt. My mother had definitely read it and my father is pretty sure he read it at one time. They both seemed to have remembered enjoying it, but their recollections were vague at best. I think I asked them out of curiosity what their motivation was for passing it along to me (as in why they thought of me and brought it, as opposed to any other book, across four States to put it in my possession), but my memory of their response is...vague at best. Maybe its genetic; this familial tendency to wander about in an apparent haze of apathetic ambiguity.

As I was reading it though, I felt a real connection to it. Not because of its nonfiction story set in Savannah, Georgia, which I've driven through, but never really spent any significant amount of time in, but rather in the author's connection to Savannah and his recounting of his experiences there as a form of storytelling travelogue. John Berendt is a writer who lived in New York who, after visiting Savannah, Georgia, ended up returning more and more until he found himself making it a second home. These are his words: "Over a period of eight years [...] my stays in Savannah became longer and my return trips to New York shorter. At times, I came to think of myself as living in Savannah. I found myself involved in an adventure peopled by an unusual assortment of characters and enlivened by a series of strange events, up to and including murder." As Berendt recounts his experiences, focusing heavily on a high-profile murder that took place during those eight years, it becomes evident that he was making it a point to "soak up" as much of Savannah and its people as he possibly could. Or, to use a phrase I'm fond of for explaining my time and focus in North Carolina, he wanted to "milk the area and the experience for all it was worth". This is where I really felt connected to Berendt and the story.

Similarly, Hendersonville, North Carolina was a place I visited with no intention of living during my time residing in Los Angeles, California and between moves from L.A. to Tokyo, Japan. An initial trip during that time turned into several small "visits" of varying lengths of duration. When I made up my mind to return to the States from Japan, for the first time I found myself thinking of Hendersonville as a place to live for awhile. Like Berendt, I moved from a major world city to a much smaller town and a drastically different lifestyle in the Southeast United States and chose to make it a home in an affection for the area and a desire to know it personally and on a deeper level. Also, like Berendt, my identity as a writer plays heavily into my time here and my focus.

Before my local friends and acquaintances become extremely self-conscious and wary of me let me say that I'm not currently planning on writing a specific memoir that would focus on and take place in Hendersonville and if I one day do so I will change names and protect friends as I do in my blog. I have no interest in airing anyone else's dirty laundry and I am the sole fool and laughing stock of my adventures. If anything I will one day tell a less focused story that would cover my time and experiences in Western North Carolina. Sure, Hendersonville and its inhabitants would play strongly in the tale, but it's not a current project. I'm also here as a vagabonder who wants to "milk the area and the experience for all its worth" outside of any writing motivations. It is inevitable, however, that as a writer it will find its way into my work whether directly or indirectly.

It was in this way though that I felt connected to John Berendt and the story he was telling in Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. Maybe my parents subconsciously recognized this connection even though they couldn't articulate it when I asked. Maybe they didn't recognize it at all, but it was one of those books that was suppose to find its way into my hands to better illuminate the path that I am meant to walk. Either way I'm glad I read this book. I would recommend it to anyone who is interested in Savannah, the Southeast and southern living, real-life crime, travel and travel writing, or vagabonding with a purpose. I wouldn't recommend it to those who demand their crime and mystery novels be full of gunfights, espionage, government cover-ups and involvement, and international crime syndicates. To assuage any literary concerns though I will pass along that Midnight... is a multi-year national bestseller.

If you've read this book I'd love for you to drop a comment and let me know what you thought of it. If you haven't read it do you think you ever will? I look forward to hearing from you.