On Granny's Passing

"She's gone," shot through the upstairs floor
like that sharp stick in my bare foot
last summer as I ran in the woods.
Mama had been sitting with Granny for several days;
now the waiting was over.
Looking out of the window at the stars,
I had thoughts of her comfortable lap,
biscuits in the warming oven,
homemade quilts,
and her long hair pulled back on her head.
There was always time for us "younguns,"
a warm hug, her little laugh, and,
"come back and see me soon."
Now, she's gone.

Been enjoying lots of the fruits of my labor lately with the garden "coming in." I have more squash, peppers, and tomatoes than we can eat. Guess I'll to start putting some stuff up. I checked out the Galax Old Fiddlers Convention this past weekend and they had a great turn out, more than I had ever seen there. I got to say hello to some old friends who I only see at Galax and heard some great music.
I also got to meet Chris Shackleford, director of the Chestnut Creek School of the Arts in Galax and look forward to getting involved with them as time allows and as they need me to help. That's going to be a great addition to the area once they get up and rolling.
I also checked out the Steppin' Out in downtown Blacksburg, VA on Friday night. Talk about a mob scene, that was it and I could not wait to get outta there. I hope to be at Fries Fiddlers Convention in Carroll County, VA this coming weekend. That's a nice small convention with good local old time music. Come on out.

Cliftop

Just returned from my trip to the Appalachian String Band Festival in Cliftop. In spite of lots of rain and mud, it was the most enjoyable vacation I have ever spent. There were many long journeys into the wee hours of the morning searching for that perfect groove and, as far as I can say, on more than one occasion, it was achieved. I had many great sessions with some old friends and with some new friends. Playing with great Kentucky fiddler, Paul David Smith, on more than one occasion was the highlight of my week. Paul, even at an advanced age, has more energy than most people half his age and his fiddling seems to get better every time I see him.
Seeing the New Lost City Ramblers on stage, sadly missing member Mike Seegar, was very touching and a special moment for me. Tracy and John did Mike proud in carrying on, and on more than one occasion I started to tear up just at the sight of them on stage and what they represent in, and to, our traditional musical heritage. Even though the heavens opened up half way through their perfromance, it was one of the most memorable occasions I have had to date.
Thanks to all who I had the occasion to jam with--some of whom are: Jimmy Costa, Giles Mountain String Band (though not near enough), Henry The Fiddler, John Harrod, Betty Vornbrock, Billy Cornett, Chris Coole, Anna Roberts, Ben Townsend, Bob Cain, and many whose names I never learned.
Thanks to all who shared great food, tunes, friendship, and contributed to a great week for Peggy and myself. I'm looking forward to seeing you there next year.

My Words at Dad's Funeral/My Parents' Elopement

In Remembrance of our dad, granddad, great-granddad, uncle, cousin, and friend.
On Augusta 27, 1938, practically here on this very spot, a young preacher's daughter ran out the back door of the church, while her daddy, the church pastor, led the congregation in prayer. She ran as fast as her short bowed-legs would carry her and across the road to where an anxious young man was working in his uncle's store.
They hopped into his Uncle Frank's Chevrolet and off they went in a cloud of dust in search of a Justice of the Peace. A witness said that once the foot hit the gas pedal, they never saw that car again. Soon the knot was tied. When the young couple returned to tell the bride's daddy, a very unhappy father of the bride replied, "Now you think you could eat her all up and a year from now, you'll wish you had."
The proud young groom took his bride by the hand and off he went, calling back over his shoulder, "I may just eat her all up today."
After 66 years, that journey ended with the passing of my mother, on June 4, 2004 and now the circle is complete on the other side.

He is our comfort and strength.
He is the coolness of newly plowed ground,
the scent of freshly mown grass in the springtime,
a dipper of cool spring water on a hot summer day,
the reds, oranges, and yellows during the warm Indian Summer,
the big homemade quilt that keeps us warm in the winter.

Appalachian String Band Festival Trip

I will be embarking upon a Crossing beginning on Saturday, July 25 and returning on Monday, August 3. We will muster on Saturday morning at 8:00 am and, assuming that the winds are favorable, will be departing shortly thereafter. Aboard the USS Toyota, I will be crossing the mighty and ancient New River into the great state of Wild and Wonderful West Virginia to gaze over vast open spaces and occurances rarely viewed by modern man; at various ports of call I will be partaking of finely prepared meals cooked in the open air, enjoying a virtual plethora of daily/nightly renditions of countless and timeless tunes while the natives perform their ritual dances, renewing old acquaintances, and making new friends, all while riding those proverbial waves that stretch as far as the eye can see. My tux is cleaned and pressed in anticipation of the Captain's dinner but the standard dress of the day will be crocs, Hawaiian shirts, shorts, and the occasional T-shirt with the declaration, "Old Time Music, Better Than it Sounds."
This mission will be my passage into the mysterious abyss of strange and, oh yes, sacred, search for the golden fleece of the perfect groove. Hope to see you there.


"...These hills are just dirt waves washing through eternity... . Oh my children, where air we going on this mighty river of earth, a-borning, begetting, and a-dying-- the living and the dead riding the waters? Where air it sweeping us?" James Still

Cornbread

Cornbread

Sometimes I like it in little flat disks, like flapjacks.
It's good with whole kernels of corn and hot peppers cooked right in it.
I like it crumpled up in a bowl with soup bean juice poured over it
or spread on a plate and smothered with pinto beans and green onions.
Occasionally I like to eat it with butter oozing form the inside dribbling down my chin.
It's good sweet like yellow cake,
or with green beans, sliced tomatoes, small tender scallions, cucumbers,
scalded lettuce and onions fresh from the garden.
I like cornbread with homemade strawberry jam, apple butter, peach butter,
butter and molassas;
Cornbread-made with bacon grease in an old cast iron skillet that granny gave to mama and mama gave to me.
Cornbread-stuffed into a glass of ice cold sweet milk for a bed time snack.
Cornbread-round, square, thick, thin, sweetened, unsweetened, hot, or cold
is good eatin'
with somehting
or by itself.

Continuing My Journey

Until we moved when I was seven, we lived across the road from Red Linkous and his family. Red was a bluegrass musician of renown. My love for the old traditional music goes back to those days when my sister took me across the road to hear Red and his band, The Smokey Valley Boys, practice. I never got to hear them play in public because people looked down on the kinds of places they played, calling them "beer joints," or even worse, "night clubs." You have to remember that in those days most everyone took it upon themselves to judge most everyone else. Those were 'evil' places in most paople's minds, like my very fundamentally believing parents.
I will never forget when Red and his band were on the "Top of the Morning" show that came on every morning at 6:30 with Don Reno and Red Smiley. To see someone on TV that I actually knew was the biggest thrill this seven year old country boy had ever known. My mama had that show playing every morning while we were getting ready for school.
We walked to Midway to catch the bus until I we moved and I started second grade. Midway was a little gas station about 1/2 mile form our house. The buses then only ran on the main roads and kids had to walk to catch them at the nearest point.
Midway was where Sunshine Kanode ran his little station and grocery store and you could get most everything you needed there at inflated prices, even in those days. he had everything from chunk bologna and candy bars to hog feed and cigars. He always had one of those big King Edward cigars hanging from his mouth. Most of the locals traded there and helped make Sunshine a fine retirement in Florida. Ike Sowers bought the place when Sunshine retired and made himself a fine retirement in Florida too. In those days selling over-priced groceries to those who had no other choice or had some sort of mis-guided loyalty to the store was a very profitable situation. A big draw for many was the fact that they could get credit and pay up on payday, but they paid dearly in the end.
The very first time I had to make that walk alone to the bus, I was so scared that I rubbed mud on my pants and went back home and told mama that I had fallen down so I would not have to go that day. I went to the old Weller Baker school in Cambria and had Ms. Bell for first grade. We used to pay marbles until out knuckles would get raw and crack open and sometimes even bleed. They rang a big hand bell at the end of recess and one time my sister got hit in the mouth with it which caused her front tooth to turn dark. One time a girl peed in her pants in school. I remember even to this day who she was but would not mention her name and never have.
Those were the days when Aunt Beulah and Uncle Curtis would pick us up sometimes and take us to the drive-in tho see cowboy movies at Midway. Hop-a-long Cassidy was my favorite and I knew that if I had a big white horse like Topper that I would be the happiest kid in the whole world.
I don't know why I wanted a horse because the one time I tried riding a pony that John Linkous had, it bolted and ran off causing me to fall off, but my foot got hung in the stirrup and I could have been seriously injured but luckily my foot came loose and I only hit the ground unhurt. That still did not stop me from wanting Topper.

Passage of Time

I stare at myself from the outside
standing on borrowed ground--
borrowed from former residents
who left me the right to exist here as long as I may choose,
or the Almighty chooses to tolerate my existance
with the humanity that seems to be determined to end this reign of prosperity.
Passage of time only acts to remind us that we are falling deeper into that crevice of lostness,
or where do we stand,
of whether to stand,
or not.

Early Memories

The New Tricycle
Dig out from heavy layers of covers
see what's waiting under the tree.
It's new and shiny and red and white.
There's streamers on the handle bars.
Everyone waits to see what a six year old does.
Too much!
Run!
Hide!
Under the bed.
Maybe later I'll come out and ride it around.
But not right now.


Mama Took the Bus
Mama rode the bus to Baltimore,
where her sister lived.
Alone for the first time without her;
tears flow as I hide in my bed so no one will see.
Feel bad, but no one knows.
They tell me she'll be back in a day or two,
but no matter,
I still feel alone now.

Aunt Lilly
Life in a straightback chair.
From bed to window.
The only form of mobility available.
A dimmed window payne provides access to life outside.
Birds sing; breezes sway trees; children play.
Someone brings supper, lights the lamp,
helps with necessities, most of the time.
The straightback chair goes from window to bed.

Wayword Fox
A wayword fox wandered into our yard one summer day,
from where no one knew.
"It's acting funny," mama said.
"Go get Jimmy; tell him to bring his gun."
Not a good day for Jimmy as he came from the barn, his, "drinking place."
The little pistol shook in his nervous hand as he pointed at the creature,
which did not back down,
even after the first two shots whizzed by its head.
The third one found its mark; the threat was over.
"Probably had rabies," daddy said when he got home from work.

The Birthday Present
A two-bladed Old Timer,
my seventh birthday present from Uncle Malean.
"Don't cut your finger;
your mama'd skin me alive.
Slow, let it glide along."
A curled pine shaving hits the ground.
He holds it in his hand and smiles.
"That's it."

Daddy Had a Temper
Little things would set him off.
If the beans were not looked well enough and he'd bite a rock,
that would really do it.
Once his plate soared to the floor,
a rocket that became bits of glass upon impact.
Down the road in the old Ford, "wide open."
An hour later, he was back with candy offerings for us kids
and assuming that mama would forgive him.
She always has, and does this time too.

Gypsy Women Don't Wear any Underwear
At least that's what I thought until I was about seven.
Irma, Uncle Malean's wife was teaching us kids how to turn somersaults
when I made my discovery.
She really wasn't his wife but people called her that for the sake of decentsy.
She came home with Uncle Malean from one of his travels and just stayed.
She was a real Gypsy woman,
or at least what people thought Gypsy women looked like--
she had black hair, wore lots of tangly jewelry and lots of red stuff on her cheeks.

Getting Started

This is my first attempt at blogging so we'll see how it goes. I hope to use this to encourage myself to write. I titled my spot Sam Reflects because I intend to reflect on various things, sometimes serious and sometimes not so serious. I am in the process of renovationg an old house that was my homeplace while growing up. I am a tenth generation Appalachian, son of a former coal miner, and proud of the Appalachian heritage. My home was a 16X20 story and a half log cabin at one time about 100 years ago but has been added on to a few times over the last 70 years.
This past weekend, I along with my wife, visited friends in McKee, KY. Frank and Deborah have a wonderful old time homestead where they raise sheep, chickens, rabbits, pigeons, and horses. Their place has the feel of a real home, the kind I used to go to as a kid to visit old aunts and uncles. The only thing missing was the aroma of kerosene lamps. My wife and I slept on the big front porch under the stars. It has been a long time since I was where the stars were not blocked out by artificial light. I had forgotten that there were so many stars up there. We ate lots of fresh food straight from the farm--chickens, squab, eggs, mutton, blackberries, and much more.
On the way home we visited Lee Sexton in Letcher County. Lee is a legend of old time music and has been recognized by many, including the governor of Ky with a lifetime achievement award. We ate fresh garden vegetables and played Lee's brand of hard-driving traditional music.
Lee is second to none when it comes to playing that five strings and teling stories. Lee and Opal are the real thing!
Stay tuned for more ramblings, stories, poems, and more.