Give me that old time mountain music


Folk music has its followers around the world, and even more so is the music that comes from our own Appalachian region here in the United States. So, the opportunity to listen and and see a little culture is an experience to grab hold of.

I like that mountain music. It’s the roots of blue grass. There is nothing like it, and it’s common enough that you can have a group of musicians gather with a banjo, guitar, mandolin and fiddle, and you’ve got a band. That’s all it takes. Sure, you can throw in a bass, but you rarely see drums or any kind of percussion instrument.

Grab a bite to eat, something to drink, sit back and just listen. Let the music carry you away to the oldest mountains in the USA—the Appalachians. Yes, they are much older than the Rockies according to geologists. Not as high because they’ve been worn down, but older.

John Denver can take you home on country roads, but I’d really like to just fly, fly away. Listening to that old time mountain music can do that for me.

I need to find more festivals to attend.

See you on the highway.


The Joy of Catching a Fish

The local fly fishing group and Project Healing Waters has a regular schedule to go fishing at one of the county parks. It’s a pond on a children’s farm, and fishing is usually not allowed, but there are exceptions like for the kids and the Veterans group. Because the pond is not regularly fished, it has fish in it just waiting to bite on something. It makes for a good experience. And, it is all catch and release.


The Veterans range in age and are veterans of too many wars—Vietnam, Iraq, Gulf War, Afghanistan. One is a Korean War Veteran. The mission of Project Healing Waters is to give Veterans a little R&R. It is amazing how disabilities disappear on the water with a fly rod or fishing pole in hand. Shaky hands become still. Troubles disappear for a little while.


Willy was at the pond for his first fishing experience with the Veterans. Confined to a wheel chair, partially paralyzed, he needs help with just about everything. He has movement in his arm, but cannot grip your hand to shake it—that doesn’t stop him from introducing himself and sticking his hand out towards you. “Hi! I’m Willy.”

Willy cannot grip a rod, so we did like all good soldiers do, we improvised. We strapped the pole to his forearm, so that he could lift and lower the rod. Volunteers helped by baiting the hook and watching the rod for him. It was a team effort.

In what seems like the short time we were there, Willy caught more fish than anybody—eight! I guess the fish liked the piece of hot dog on a hook. Willy was happy, saying it was one of the best days he has had in a long time. I think his smile says it all.


Of course, the rest of us had some success with the fly rods. In all, it was a pretty good day for all of us.


See you on the highway.