People Of The Earth

Today was mostly a travel day, laundry and settle in at a new site.  Origin destination - Galax (pronounced "Gay-lax" as I was uncerimoniously advised by a local).  This is the home of the south end of the New River State Rail Trail.  It is NOT however the home of a decent campground.  The choices being Cool Breeze RV Campground, (so named because of the fact it is a bunch of hookups in an empty field), and Old Crank's RV Park which I didn't bother to check out for obvious reasons.

After a bit of scouring the interned, we found a promising alternative in a small town about 15 miles to the north.  It turned out to be very nice as RV parks go, so here we are in Fries (pronounced "Freeze") Virginia.  This is a tiny place of maybe several hundred at the end of the road from .....?   Classic Applacian community.

We took a short bike ride down the New River Trail which runs through town.  It was quite pretty and a promising preview of tomorrow's run.  But little did we know of the treat in store for evening entertainment.

We were advised by the campground manager that every Thursday evening in the spring and summer, there is a public jam session held at the local theater.  So we trundled off to the "theater" not knowing whether is was a music or jello wrestling venue.

Now anyone that knows me also knows that my sense of humor was inherited from MomMom and can be somewhat caustic at times.  The rest of the evening would easily have suplied enough material for a good-sized disertation lampooning the "merits of country living".

But I resist because after 3 hours, I found the experience ironically uplifting.  (And Jessica - quit snickering.)

Picture an early 1900's very small town theater.  Unfinished wooden floor, fold-down unpadded wooden seats for about 100, occupied by about 50.  A stage of sorts, but a bare floor area about 30' X 30' in front of the stage (perhaps originally for an "orchestra" supporting whatever might have been happening on the stage in days long ago).

Seated in a circle in this area are 15-20 musicians, aged from mid-teens to mid-100's I think.  Instruments ranging from guitars to fiddles, to dulcimers and banjos, a base fiddle and a couple of things that I didn't recognize. The demographics change as members move in and out of the session.

The only characters more interesting than the jammers, are the audience.  These are people of the earth.  No pretense of glamor here.  Country folk, modestly dressed, mostly older, (older than me anyway), and as with the players, obviously locals.  This is not meant to be a show, this is a social event.

"Hi.  Where YOU-ALL from?"

Music comes from the circle by some mysterious process.  There is no conductor, unless you count the lady with the base fiddle, who also happens to have the strongest voice.  Bluegrass, gospel and mountain music I would call it.  Certainly not professionals but everyone seems to be playing the same tune.

Leaned over and turned around conversations  with us about our origins, what brings us here, do we like the music?  All very friendly but I still feel like an observer of an ant farm.

Several ladies emerge from the audience and begin dancing at the fringes of the circle.  One in particular looked to be in her 70's but spry by any standard.  Wearing a tee shirt entitled "First Chic".  They're doing what I am told is flat-footin', a singles dance (apparently for women only), independent of the movement of others except in the beat.  Mostly rapid foot work with the upper body almost stationary.

Music changes from fast bluegrass to a slightly slower tempo, and the dance step changes to a type of line dance I seen at some of the western dance bars we used to go to.  OH SHIT! I'm in trouble now.

Sure enough, a couple of tunes later, Valerie has blossumed into the Polish Hillbilly.  (Scott - Eat your heart out.)  Fortunately there are NO other men on the floor and even she would not subject me to that embarassment.

A short mid-evening break and then the traditional Cake Circle.  A form of musical chairs where squares of paper are placed in a circle around the music circle.  A number is written on the underside of each square.   Everybody who wants to play (and one who doesn't) ponys up two bucks for the priviledge of dancing around the circle of squares until the music stops.  You plop your foot on an available paper square and wait for the  guy in the torn jeans and tee-shirt to call out a number.  If your square has that number, you get a cake baked by one of the ladies in the aforementioned audience.

Three cakes, so three chances.  Glad I didn't win 'cause Val said I'd have to share it with everyone.

The evening progressed on with more music and occassional conversation until at nine o'clock the entire audience spontaniously stands, forms a people circle around the music circle, holds hands and sings Amazing Grace.

I am moved by the whole experience.  The simplicity of the venue, the music and even the folks attending is quite refreshing.  You are what you are with no need to be something you aren't.  This event is obviously part of the fabric of this small community and hopefully won't disappear for a long time.

Good Night from Fries ("Freeze") Virginia.  Home of plain folk.