A Look Into the Past
I was fortunate enough to attend an old timey group’s monthly meeting a few days ago. Yes, it was open to the public. However, it only seemed like a few people knew about it. This group was very tight nit, although as expected, very accepting. I got there a few minutes late, which I didn’t think was that big of a deal. The venue was at the horse center (main coliseum). I felt comfortable here, which helped with the awkwardness of me walking into this meeting late. I heard the music before anything else. As I approached the corner of the arena, I began to draw stares. Perfect, I thought; here I am, obviously someone new to the entire thing, completely clueless, and now everyone and their brother is staring at me. An older lady offered me a seat, to which I realized was right plumb in front of the entire stage of people. I recognized her from the checkout line at Wal-Mart from earlier that day, so that gave me some comfort, sort of. I stood in the back for a while, in the most comfortable leaning position I could find. I surveyed the crowd, and that’s when it struck me. I was the youngest person there by about 40 years. Well, with an opened mind and ear, I just took it all in. I would catch the occasional person staring at me, but that didn’t last long, because Kenny showed up in his green t-shirt, white shorts, random hat turned backwards, and flip-flops. I just laughed as he walked in. I walked up to him and warned him on how out of place he was going to feel. We both walked over to the leaning post I had acquired and just chilled out. The music was not the perfect, CD, Pandora, YouTube quality that was expected. However, I noticed something interesting that stuck with me. What I was witnessing was exactly what I had gone for. Not this grand bluegrass performance, but a true, down home, heart filled performance by people who really felt what they were playing. The people listening were the same. They were so in to the music, it was hard to pull their attention away from it. There would be the occasional mess up, but hey, that’s life. They were using music to show their life experiences, and their beliefs. I could see how the music impacted everyone. Some would slow down and close their eyes, and by the looks on their face, really get into the music. I don’t know the exact things that made these people act the way they did. But for every person the music seemed to mean something different. A sweet old couple got up and danced to a slower song, obviously recalling their younger years. An older man in his 80’s made eyes to his wife as he played along to the music on his fiddle. As the music progressed, I began to get into it. I became aware of all of my surroundings. I started to notice everyone’s expressions, hear their individual voices, and see their movements. I realized I was seeing the past. There it was, right in front of me. I was living it. Sure they all had on newer clothes, but the sounds, the movements, the expressions. They all were what I pictured the past to be like. The music they played was an old timey genre, mostly gospel. They played Fly Away, and everyone started singing along, including myself. Their style was theirs, and they made the music not the way it was written but the way they thought it should sound. The only songs I remember hearing before were the gospel songs. Most of them were hymns I had heard in church before. I could tell they were passionate about their music, and were proud to play it. I would absolutely recommend this venue to anyone who wants a look into the past. It was very interesting, and I look forward to returning. They even invited me to bring my banjo back and play some. I look forward to the next time I can join this group of individuals as they recall past and share their memories through music.