This is what our priest defines as “people enduring wooden seats”. And we did, indeed, endure the equivalent to them several weeks ago.
I already mentioned that we find unusual things to do on Saturdays. A couple of weeks ago, in anticipation of our trip to north Georgia and a Bluegrass Festival, we drove over to Leesville SC for the Fourth Saturday Bluegrass jam in the Haynes Auditorium. One main draw is that Shealey’s Barbeque is located there too so we hit their down home buffet. They kept running out of fried chicken livers as they are more than popular. I, with a smile, even threatened to snatch some off the plate of the man sitting across from me. Shealey’s has three big rooms filled with tables so with your plate in hand, you find a spot and make new friends and a waitress brings you a cold beverage. They have creamed corn like my grandma could make. From scratch and not bogged down with that icky corn starch crap. As always, the banana puddin’ is also worth the hour drive.
But I digress. I had researched on the internet the location of the music night. However, it would be rather difficult to get very lost in Leesville. Just pull over and ask someone sitting on their porch. Anyway, we got there early and found seats. The auditorium was exactly like the one in the old Davidson school where I taught, although about half the size. The old school was built in 1926 and when we moved to the new school in 1996 it was literally falling down on our heads. We could sit in the auditorium and as we clapped watch the paint flakes fall like snow. This auditorium had been part of a college so was it better shape, however, the first seats we found were not bolted to the floor. We found another spot. There was a stack of cushions in the lobby and I grabbed two as we entered. I suspected they were there for a very good reason. Apparently the people from the Twenties were used to suffering or they had softer behinds than we do today, which I sincerely doubt is not the case.
The show started and I thought — oops, this is another Grits Festival. One of the first group of performers was so young I could count on my fingers how many years she’d been out of diapers. Bluegrass likes to start them young. Fortunately,with each new group the music got better. One group even sang “Beautiful, Beautiful Blues Eyes” which I hadn’t heard for a long time and my mother used to sing to me when I was a child. However, mother changed the words and Brown Eyes got top billing. Although, mother, like the rest of our family, couldn’t sing worth a flip, the song always made me feel special. I also judge the music by how many songs Bruce can sing along to.
The evening was pleasant and fun in a small town kind of way. Fortunately, Bruce and I both grew up in places and in that era before television when it was normal to be simple, enjoying the old ways our parents and grandparents knew.
