BUCKEYE BLUEGRASS FESTIVAL--

An ole farm field up there somewhere between Greenwich and Ruggles came alive that evening as the Whitaker Brothers, Idle Tyme, the Bluegrass Mountaineers, James King and finally, the headliner, Rhonda Vincent sent their toe-tapping music bouncing through the rolling valleys.

The weather tried to cooperate but mostly high winds, misty rain and temps flirting with the upper 50s kept the crowd finding relief any way it could including coats, hooded sweatshirts and colorful tarps with occasional trips to the concessions for a steaming beverage.

The stage area looked like something concocted from the debris of an old barn demolition but it was functional and gaily decorated in a patriotic theme and that is good.

The grounds included free camping facilities "in the rough" which were filled to the brim for this event.  Electric was available for 5 bucks a day.  When Bluegrass music isn't the main item on the agenda, the site serves as the Greenwhich Road Coon Hunter's Club.  Seemed like a good match to me.

Bluegrass music traces its history to the incredibly wide variety of folks migrating to America in the early 1600s; an amalgamation of dance music and ballads from Ireland and Scotland, for examples, as well as African American gospel music and blues.

African slaves brought the design idea for the banjo; an instrument now integral to the Bluegrass sound.

As early settlers began to spread westward in their new land they composed new songs about day-to-day life in their mostly rural, mountainous experience.  Their music began to be known as "mountain" or "country" music.

The invention of radio in the early 1900s brought this music from the southern mountains to people all over the US.

In the late 30s Bill Monroe, a native of Kentucky, the Bluegrass State, formed a band he called "Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass Boys" and this band's sound gave birth to this new form of country (Bluegrass) music.

One youngster joined the adults in his group on the night of our visit and played partially secluded in the background.  I was proud of his polite and unobtrusive presence--then amazed when he was brought to the foreground microphone and dazzled the crowd with his very own, rollicking solo.  His great grandpa in the same group beamed as he announced the lad as the fourth generation on that stage.

Finally, dusk morphed into darkness as the beat rolled on.

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In the upper photos are Mark and Nancy Meinzer, Don and Roberta Karger and my pal Sue settling in for the nearly 4 hour show on that blustery evening.