My husband came home last night and told me that he had a little surprise for me and to be ready by 6:30. Hmmm. . . I used to like surprises, and besides the girls and I were going to watch a movie while I ironed. What was this? and How long were we going to be out? and did I have to changed?
Whatever happened to my sense of adventure!!! Well, anyway . . . I'm sure glad I took the hiking boots off, at least . . .
I spent two hours seriously transported to the hills of the Ozarks in southwestern Missouri. I spent the better part of the 70's calling it home. At the time, I despised the strange, twangy music they played. I was utterly annoyed that my parents would pluck me from our suburban comforts as I was just coming of age and force me to adjust to this backwoods, hillbilly stick country. How was I going to listen to WLS out of Chicago? The radio stations all played this same thing - country music - aaaacccckkk!
Oh, don't make the mistake of thinking Kenny Chesney or Faith Hill! I'm talking mountain music. Mandolins, fiddles, guitars and a whole lot of crooners that never read a note of music in their very wrinkly old lives!
I loved it! I closed my eyes for a little while, and I felt like I was back in the hills. I could almost smell the woods and the country cooking. Do you know the water tastes almost sweet there? It runs right out of the ground in little artesian wells . . . crisp and clear and clean. Even as a surly, disappointed teenager, the folks down there were unfailingly loving and accepting.
I do remember that once I had left the area, my return always felt like a true "coming home" just hearing that music. I think it wore unconsciously on my brain. It would spark good memories of friends and good cooking, times spent together - happier, simpler times.
I forgot to change my socks when I took my boots off . . . so there I sat in my jeans and Eddie Bauer sweater and Clarks slides and WHITE socks! I was horrified when I looked down. But, you know, I seemed to fit right in. I don't think any of them thought that was a bit unusual.
I think I'll go back. The folks who filled this place are probably 20 years my senior. They remind me of the "natives" - that's what my mother always called them.
Let's see...had you stuck around that area for your college education, you would most likely have attended (what was then) Southwest Missouri State Teacher's College. Sorry, that type of music grates on my earbones, still. Ooooh! During my college days in southeastern Missouri, I listened to WLS during the night...and to WLW (loved the version of "Night Train" that heralded the beginning of the "Moonlight with Martin" program!) You must tell us more of your days in the 1970s. (Please?)
I know you didn't think so at the time, but you were lucky to experience SW Missouri. I remember a lot of the area from our visits, but we never got to hear the "natives" play. The closest we came to it were the musicians at Silver Dollar City, and they were much more polished. I understand how you felt about being torn away from your music. When I stayed in 1981-82, I was dismayed to find what was available. NPR saved my mind.
Nah, Nan has the right idee...mountain music, like that of Allison Krause, is a pure delight.
Pattie--You are very right about mountain music being a pure delight--as long as it is out of earshot!! *chuckling*
My dad taught himself to play the fiddle and the guitar, and taught us kids to play the piano (I played violin, but not guitar.) Mom took piano lessons as a child (mostly popular music of the era) and she and Dad both played baritone horns or slide trombones in the community band. Elder brother took up the baritone while younger brother took up the trombone. Mom's dad had a banjo (I don't recall how many strings it had), but no one in the family actually took it up. My own musical tastes gravitated toward the classical--I enjoyed accompanying Elder Brother on the piano as he played Vesti la Giubba and such on the baritone.