When I lived in Florida, I was a regular at folk music concerts. They were less expensive and more intimate than traditional, larger venues, sometimes in a friend’s backyard or living room. This meant I could attend live music more often, and more music is akin to better living for me.
Occasionally someone would ask to join me and I would hesitate. Folk music was just that and not everyone played brilliantly, every time. It was pared down and unpolished (most of the time) which excludes finicky listeners who might be judgmental. But so often, just wow. And the person playing was right there, strumming magically and weaving words in such thought provoking ways. The live part gave an opportunity for just the right pause, or tone in a song, or joke during warm up or sound checks.
So much music in the Ozarks happens in church, especially in the smaller towns. And some of these little churches have the most wonderful singers and musicians. One town has a theater with live music once a month and that was fun. A coworker and I ended up talking about music and she told me that there was a bluegrass festival coming up.
I don’t know enough about bluegrass to describe it. While it can have the same instruments as folk, especially those that people associate more to country styles of music such as banjos, fiddles and dulcimers, it is so different. And there are people easily offended when the two are confused, sort of like people mixing up the Carolinas.
I set out in humid, ninety degree heat for West Plains, Missouri. I searched on-line for bluegrass and West Plains, got a schedule and hit the road. I was happy to find a place to park at the Civic Center. I wandered around to the tents with a blacksmith working red hot iron, a woman weaving, basket makers and food trucks. A man at a booth called me over to join a family sampling honey. We tried cinnamon and jalapeno varieties on bread. It was delicious.
I was relieved that the jig competition that I wanted to see was inside with air conditioning. One boy and one girl dancer in the under 18 group were no more than 5-years-old. They were led out on stage, each in turn, and told to let the musicians know when they were ready. The little boy was asked how long he had been dancing and he said, “Oh. Lots of years.” He nodded to the musicians and he was spectacular, ending his dance with a little kick up. The girl was a bit more reserved, but did a fine job.
Between performances, I texted my friend. I knew she was volunteering and I’d say hello after the dancing. Who knew that there were two bluegrass festivals on the same day? I was at Old Time Music Ozarks Heritage Festival when I should have been at the Heart of the Ozarks Bluegrass Association’s 40th Annual Spring Bluegrass Festival (whew, what a name), just a few short miles away.
I watched more jigs, so impressed by a man in his seventies, and headed across town. My maps app took me through the middle of a pretty, country cemetery, high on a hill.
It’s not that there’s an abundance of land in the country, but fewer people, which means that many of these organizations own their own land (like the Ozarks Older Iron Club where I saw tractor shows). This enables them to have a dedicated site that they use a few times a year. That’s a huge difference from the city where groups rent space for their events.
Off I went to HOBA Park on Bluegrass Lane. I was welcomed to a beautiful set up with permanent buildings including a stage/storehouse (it may even have a rustic green room), a tiny sound building (with roof, windows and a door), a kitchen/concession building with covered eating area and clean bathrooms/showers.
They had several campsites available at reasonable prices (like $10 a night with $10 admission and kids 18 and under free). However, there are rules: no drinking and “no illegal drugs or recreational cannabis.” They expect decent clothing and language and pets in designated areas. For anyone who finds this restrictive, I have to say, the park was clean and the folks were friendly.
As a park, there were many tall trees that provided critical shade on such a hot day and covered areas with benches (I was excited about that as I didn’t bring a chair, thinking I was headed to the stadium where I saw the jig competition). I found my friend and we had a short visit before she returned to work. I made a few more friends.
There was a bird that was traveling back and forth from a nest under an eave, covering the stage. He went to a fence post at the edge of the crowd and back. It flew and dipped to what seemed in time to the music (this is where the no drinking or drugs comes to my defense). I saw others pointing at the same bird who enjoyed the show with us.
While I didn’t know one song that was played, I did like listening to the music and the musician’s banter. I saw four bands: River Bend, Route 3, Ozark Mountain Four and Stringed Union. They played many originals and covers from Del McCoury to Bill Monroe (I liked his song “Tall Pines”).
Hunger sated from a cheeseburger and coleslaw and a heart full of music, I headed home. I had a new musical arena, in nature, and learned of more local venues. I’m settling in to a life made better by more live music.