Bluegrass Fest

As we made our way toward the downtown Franklin square on Saturday, we were greeted with the sounds of sweet Bluegrass music. "This is what it will sound like when I enter through the pearly gates," said my Bluegrass loving beau. (Yes, he really said that!)

I remember when Eric and I were first married, we were on the long trek from Kentucky to Iowa and we had a slight dispute about our differing musical tastes. I grew up on Country music, as did Eric, for the most part, but the enjoyment of the music did not carry over into Eric's adult years, as it had mine. I couldn't understand why he would not just give in and listen to it with me without cringing. Of course, that was in the early years of our marriage when I naively thought we must have the same opinion on everything in order to have a healthy relationship. (I have long since abandoned that way of thinking, by the way.) I had endured the little innocent pokes and funny jabs by my dear husband at my choice in music any time I selected a country station on the radio. Usually I let his snide remarks just slide off my back. After all, I liked the music style, but I wouldn't have classified myself as a DIE HARD fan. However, all rationale was thrown to the wayside on this particular occasion. Although his comment was innocent (whatever it was), it was unwelcomed and sent me over the edge and I went to battle for the entire genre of Country music. Maybe I was already in a bad mood. Maybe I just had a lot of pent up energy from being in the car too long. I can't remember. But whatever the case, I chose that moment to single-handedly champion the cause of Country music in protest of my husband's negative attitude. I recall Keith Urban playing on the radio and being the recipient of my valiant and ever so lengthy attempt to defend his honor along with the rest of the Country music establishment. Eric was speechless. Probably more from confusion as to where all of the passion had originated. Or maybe because he was only kidding around and was baffled at my reaction. Whatever the reason, I don't recall many more snide remarks directed at my choice in music after that social exchange.

It is funny to think about that argument now. Especially since my husband has long since become a country music fan. Not long after we moved to Nashville, Eric started coming around to the Country music side. In this town, do you really have a choice? It could have been that he gave in to the whole, "if you can't beat them, join them" mentality, but then again, my husband has never been much of a conformist. Or did my powerful soliloquy in the car years earlier really make him change his attitude? No, I don't think it was Nashville or me. The credit goes to a man named Jerry House. I think Eric's genuine re-interest began when he started listening to Jerry House and the House Foundation in the mornings on a local radio station. In order to listen to their show, it is impossible to avoid a little Country music. Those guys are hilarious!!! So it is definitely worth it to endure a little twang in order to partake in their show.


And if any of you know my Eric, you know that he doesn't usually do things halfway, he usually goes forward 110%. Not only did he embrace Country music, he went one step further and leaped right overboard and became a Bluegrass enthusiast, as well. Now, I am not opposed to banjo music, but I have always been one to take my "pickin' and grinnin" in small doses. But I am coming around more and more. It is kind of like when your child has a favorite TV show-let's say Curious George-and at first, you watch it with them because they enjoy it, even though there is a list of other shows you would prefer to watch. Then after a while, you become accustomed to inviting George into your home every morning...a choice you would have never made yourself, but it isn't a bad choice and you begin enjoying it. Then, there is the morning that your child is not even home and you find yourself watching George alone and enjoying it. This is kind of how I feel about Bluegrass music.

I am not even sure when Eric began listening to Bluegrass, but one day he told me that his days at work go better when he has Bluegrass streaming through his computer. I think it is just his speed and style. Looking at him, you wouldn't guess it, but really knowing him, you would. Remember, entertainment wise, Eric and I are 60-year-olds trapped in 30-year-old bodies.

Eric was very delighted to find out that among all of Franklin's downtown festivals (and there are many), there is a little Bluegrass one, as well. We ventured downtown for a little while on Saturday to check it out and listen to some good music. And of course to get a funnel cake, too. Much to his daddy's dismay, Caleb instantly began covering his ears at the music. But we did have to drag him away kicking and screaming when it was time to go. So, maybe our brief time amid the music turned our oldest into a fan, too.

Or maybe it was that big cannon that he was playing on that made it hard to leave.

We will just say it was the music.