Let me tell you a story.......

Once upon a time........well, let's not start this way. This isn't a fairy tale. Those don't exist in real life, but this is probably as close to one as you can get. 

It all started in 2004.

I was 16 when my brother started searching for a guitar player for a bluegrass gospel band he had formed called "Mount Zion". He had been to Nashville to record their first nationally released CD, and had been told by Jeff and Ray Deaton that, although Russ was perfectly fine as a guitar player for the group, he needed to be playing mandolin......because......well, if you've ever heard Russ play mandolin, you would know that he can pick one so hot it almost catches fire. So, their reasoning was sound, but finding a guitar player of the quality Russ would want was going to be hard. 

One day shortly following this fateful trip, a semi-frequent customer came in the store. He knew of Russ' trip to Nashville and the band formation, so he asked how things were going. When Russ explained the events of the trip, the customer said "Well, I may know of someone for you. He's a Mennonite, but he's the finest guitar picker I've heard." Russ responded with a look of confusion, and the statement that Mennonites don't play music. The man assured Russ that, although he would normally agree with him, this was not a normal case. So, Russ agreed to meet with the supposed "Mennonite". 

After their first meeting, I asked Russ how things went. He said "Well, he was right. That kid is fine. He's 21.....and probaby one of the best guitar players I've ever heard." My first thought was "21 and a guitar player! I've got to meet this guy!" So when I voiced this thought to Russ, his reply was......... well, not very enthusiastic. I was basically told the guy wasn't my type, and to forget about it. So I did. Until the next practice was set. I made sure that I ran late enough to still be at the store for when it started. I'll never forget the first time I heard him play. I was in with a student, and couldn't even see him, but I heard a guitar break, and was so impressed! I remember thinking "If this guy looks half as good as he plays, I'm going for it!". So, I finished up with my student and headed out front to see what was what. When I walked out and saw him.....the player of the guitar....the...."Mennonite"......He wasn't at all what I expected. He was......skinny.....short......and wore huge glasses. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, and looked like he hadn't shaved in a day or two. I probably don't have to tell you this, but at 16, when your hormones are going crazy and you have certain ideas of how someone should look or act, you tend to sluff off anything that doesn't fit in the tiny box that is your mind. So I think I nodded and maybe said hello before I made a beeline for the door. 

No. He wasn't what I was looking for. 

Over the course of the next few months, I had my 17th birthday, and life was pretty much the normal. Mom, dad, and myself started going to several Mount Zion shows........you know.......to support Russ. I enjoyed going to the shows, and was really starting to enjoy looking at the new guitar player. I didn't like the fact that I was enjoying it, but I reeally couldn't help myself. I mean, he was too skinny and short. He was not my type at all. (Because we all know at 17 everyone has their type picked out.)

In April of 2005, Russ was going to a local studio to start work on the next Mount Zion CD project, with the new arrangement. It would feature several old standards, and lots of original material. I remember being told about one particular studio trip where  Russ says he was asked tons of questions about me on the way there by a certain skinny guitarist. I wondered why in the world he was asking about me?? Maybe he caught me staring at him at one of the shows and thinks I'm some kind of psyco?  I tried not to think about it too much and just go on. Yeah. That didn't work. 

By June, one of us, and I still to this day don't know which one, decided to start talking to the other one. I realized that he had a subtle sense of humor that most everyone he was around didn't pick up on, so it made it really funny. Plus he had a sweet spirit about him, and he seemed very kind. The more time I spent around him, the more I liked him. One night that same month, I decided to go out on a limb and invite him to my house for supper. He was in town for a show and Russ and Skyla had plans with her partents, so I thought "what better excuse?" When I asked him, I don't know that he took me seriously right away, but after I insisted, he accepted and a plan was made for me to pick him up. When the hour arrived and I pulled in at the music store........well, let's just say we both got some looks. I didn't really care, Supper went good, except for one incident with a salt shaker that I won't reveal the details of. And we even took a picture to commemorate the event. 

                                         

Aftter that night, we were pretty much really good friends. We talked every few days and emailed some. Being an hour and a half from each other, that was pretty much our options. And I mean, we were, after all, just good friends, so what more did we need?

In July, I invited him up for my 18th birthday where we argued over what part of my cake he would eat, and then went for a drive to the Louisburg picnic where our lives changed forever. I don't know how it happened (I say that a lot in this story), but when we left the picnic that night, we were a couple. Then is when the real phone conversations started. The monday following my birthday, we talked for 3 hours.....but that was nothing in the grand scheme of things. We once stayed on the phone for 8, with most of the conversations averaging 4-5. As I say, we were 1 1/2 hours apart, with him not driving, so building a relationship on that type of situation isn't easy. We called, we emailed, and waited until a show came up so we could see each other. Weeks turned to months, arguments happened, things were forgiven, many shows passed, and finally an opportunity arose for him to move to Buffalo. Thankfully, he took it. 

Dating seriously changes when you're used to having phone conversations to get you by for 2 months at a time, then all of a sudden you can see each other every day. It was pretty awesome, and I'm sure I  took advantage many times, and drove him crazy. I just couldn't help myself. I was so in love with this man, who, thanks to mine and mom's cooking, wasn't so skinny and short anymore. My 20th birthday was what we counted as our 2 year dating anniversary. I wasn't really expecting anything, but I was hoping. I had been after him for a while to make a move. His proposal was quirky, and completely untraditional. Pretty much our whole relationship. I of course said yes, and we set the wedding date for one year and one month away. 

                                                       

A lot can hapen in a year. Even a lot of things that can test a relationship's strength. It was during this time that my mom was first diagnosed with cancer and I learned how much that I needed him. He was there for me the entire time. Mom lost her arm during that year, but she was still there for every step of my wedding planning, and anxious for me to get married. She told me that she knew she wouldn't always be with me and she wanted to know I would be taken care of. So the wedding went on as scheduled.  Our first year was hard, as is everyones, because learning to live with someone is hard work. But, I think it's safe to say that we handled things well, and eventually adjusted to each other. 

I learned so much during those dating years, but it never compairs with living with someone. First off, I thought when we were dating that he just didn't like his full name. Wrong. He HATES being called by his full name. There is no "Daniel" in our house. There is Dan. And he likes beans for breakfast. He occasionally likes mustard on his sandwhiches and desperately needs time to himself whenever he can. He was not a Mennonte, regardless of other peoples opinion. He pretty much has to drink with a straw. He likes to be taken care of when he's really sick, but when he's just a little sick, you best leave him alone. He loves his routein, and doesn't like breaking it for anyone. And this is just a teeny tiny portion of things that I have learned.......and sometimes learned the hard way. 

When I said a lot can happen in a year, take that times 5 and that brings us to now. We've had countless arguments, just as many make up sessions, 4 promotions, 1 job location change, overnight shifts, family events and celebrations, church services, and just last year we lost mom. She was right when she said that I would be taken care of. Dan was with me through it all, being my strength, holding me when I felt like I would fall, and being a shoulder when I just needed to cry. I couldn't have made it through without him. 

And now we're entering another new and exciting chapter by adding in a sweet little boy. This pregnancy is something that I am enjoying so much! I'm sure that by the end of it, though, it will be another test of our marriage......as will the raising of our child. I don't have any doubts about wether we'll make it though. I signed on for the long haul, and I know he did too.  

Happy number 5, honey. I love you.

And they lived most blessedly together forever. 

The end. 

I drive around blaring banjo music.

I'm pretty sure the title of this post is a statement not heard nearly as often as it should be.

Like homeschooling, certain TV shows, and pretty much everything else I will or have talked about in this blog, banjo music is severely misunderstood.
Lets be honest for just about 2 minutes. Close your eyes and picture someone playing a banjo. Now, unless you grew up around them, or you play one, or you have a good grasp on how complicated and beautiful they are, the thought that crossed your mind was of a toothless, barefoot hillbilly in overalls and no shirt sitting on the porch of a shack playing a banjo. Am I right?
If so, don't be embarrassed. This is what we call a stereotype. I'm not saying there aren't banjo players like that out there, but they are much......much.....the minority.
If that wasn't what you pictured. congratulations! You may someday be a bluegrass enthusiast like me.

My delight and love of this instrument hasn't always been, but has grown very slowly over time.

As a very young girl, my parents house was always blasting bluegrass music at me. A sound I detested at the time, but could do nothing about. After all, I was just a little girl, and my dad has to be the most bluegrass loving man I have ever had the privilege to know. Not just any old bluegrass, though. Traditional Bluegrass.  If I were to try and explain dad's definition of traditional, it would have to be this;
You only use guitars, banjos, mandolins, fiddles, and an bass......but it has to be an upright......nothing is plugged in to amplification, and ABSOLUTELY NO DRUMS!

If you were to ask me what caused my hatred of bluegrass, I would have to say I didn't really know. That I can remember, I had no good explanation. It was probably because my dad loved it so much and it was an opportunity to rebel.
My sense of musical taste was very limited when I was young, and I can understand why to a degree. Dad loved bluegrass so much that he just wanted me to love it too, and since I was home-schooled, I was in a controlled listening environment and at least they knew bluegrass was clean. Well, as clean as bluegrass can get. They still have stories about ending up in jail and killing your wife because she cheated on you.......but that's part of it's charm.
So, I had strictly bluegrass at home, and if I was out somewhere, it was normally with my brother and/or sister-in-law (both 17+ years my senior), who loved country music. 90's country music. Lots or Reba McEntire, Billy Ray Cyrus, Tim McGraw.......etc. Feeling the way I did about bluegrass, I went the country direction. Plus, I thought it would score me some cool points with the sis-in-law. I mean, let's face it. I was a home-schooled, sheltered, over-protected loser (in her opinion). I needed all the points I could get!

If you would have told me at age 13 that there was a genre out there called Experimental Jazz Fusion, I probably would have given you a questioning look and asked  "What is a Gen....er.....e?" I could have sworn to you at that time there were only 2 kinds of music, and the queen of both was none other than the great Dolly Parton. She was, and always will be one of my favorite artists. Her talent has never ceased to blow my mind. When I was around 9 or 10, I had lots of cassette tapes of Dolly and I listened to them almost non-stop. Then, when I was about 12, I got my first CD player for Christmas and my first CD was a used "Best Of Dolly" that my mom found in a pawn shop. I still have it, and sometimes when I'm in a real good mood, I'll play the first track, which is "Mule Skinner Blues" and sing with her at the top of my lungs. It brings back memories of when I first learned all the words to that song and would (I'm sure) drive mom crazy by playing it while working in my history book. Many other artists entered my life after my "Dolly phase", but none can ever replace her in my heart.

As I grew older, I constantly battled my growing tolerance of bluegrass. I can remember not wanting to like it, but I can't remember why. Perhaps my mind was full of stereotypes, thus making it not "cool" enough. But this annoying, un-cool music was starting to creep into my head, and that upset me. It was a couple of years after this time before I actually let my dad know that I liked "his music". I mean, I couldn't let him know. He might want me to........listen to some with him, or something.

When I was about 17, I met a man who was more music minded than anyone I have ever met. He liked many, many different types of music.......more than I'd ever thought of knowing, and could tell you about all of them. He was amazing. So amazing in fact, that I married him 4 years later. (We'll talk about our relationship some other time. Although, it is very music oriented.)
When we first started dating, he introduced me not only to bluegrass like I'd never known, but Newgrass, Jazz, Celtic, Folk, Rock, Contemporary Christian, and countless others. I was quite literally shocked and amazed by what I had missed out on all those years. It was as if those bands had just been sitting there waiting on me. I was eternally, hopelessly, completely in love with music.

A band that struck a particular "chord" with me, was the New Grass Revival. Now, there were a couple formations of this band, so I linked to the one I liked the best. If you haven't heard these guys, I strongly suggest that you give them a listen. My favorite line up involved Sam Bush, John Cowan, Pat Flynn, and Bela Fleck. These four men aren't just fabulous as a group, they will individually blow your mind.
They were instantly added to my "favorites forever" list. And trust me, it's not easy getting on that list.

After hearing NGR and some other genres of music, the stereotypes that had been formed in my mind, either by me or someone else, began to fade away and I started to appreciate talent from all forms of music in the world. (Except Rap. I don't think I'll ever understand that one). I had opened up my mind and began to find beauty in the misunderstood.

I am now proud to say that I not only listen to music with banjos in it, but I play one as well..........in fact, I play with a bluegrass band. That music that I thought was so awful as a child, is now at the top of my list. Amazing how time changes you, isn't it? No, I don't like everything......and probably never will. But I do give it a chance.
I hope that some of you are going to leave this blog after reading this, and look for a type of music that you don't normally listen to. Who knows? You might just grow to love it.