21 Days is Another Name For 3 Weeks!

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Its mornings like this I wish I didn’t have to write a Welcome column. Got up this morning, beautiful sunny morning, made a cup of tea and “groan” sat down to take care of business. I expect that my fellow columnists, talented, sensitive, folks that they are, are not about to give me any sympathy and would probably say something like, Geoff put on your big boy errr, socks, just get it done….and stop whining! (There are certain columnist-friends of mine that appear bigger than life in my mental vision….imagine the initials of a Doonsberry character.) Still, I had to pick up the computer, and ignore my dobro sitting in the corner and I never enjoy ignoring my dobro……….it just feels too good making it sing.

The magic number today is 21! That’s right there are 21 days till I go up to Grass Valley to set up camp, hang out, help with music camp, help with the festival, and jam till I puke. That reminds me, I have to send out an email to all the Welcome columnists to let them know we are having our fifth annual columnist’s jam at the Festival. This is a highly confidential gathering of very serious, secretive folks, and we are so focused on gathering material for our columns at the Father’s Day Festival that we have no fun…that’s right, we all come together at the columnists jam, all solemn and long faces, and play music because we have to…because it is expected of us. I, of course, will not enjoy any of the Bourbon that I’ll be sipping from my flask and I am sure no one else will be having a good time. We will all gather at Rick Cornish’s camp, quietly play the most boring songs we know, and otherwise sit there like lumps on a log. So I would discourage anyone from coming by expecting to see a raucous, loud, group of outspoken, tipsy, column writers just looking for juicy gossip and bluegrass-smut to publicize, and playing of out-of-control Bill Monroe standards. Just go somewhere else and take your fun with you.

The festival is going to be a little different for me this year. It is still only my second year on the CBA board so I have a little better idea about some festival issues, but this festival is going to be like having that car you’ve just broken in, where you are familiar with many of the vehicle’s idiosyncrasies and funny noises, but there are still a few surprises left. And I like knowing how things run. My band mates and I are hoping once again that our camp, Camp Carnage, will be a hopping jam-o-matic, jamilicious, jamathon this year……so stop by if you are up there and help us fulfill that dream, or at least to take a listen. Be forewarned, hecklers may be treated to various projectiles. How would you know you have arrived at Camp Carnage? Well think ET’s landing zone! Imagine what someone might do at the festival to send an intergalactic invitation to ET to come attend a jam!

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