From: jfurr@vtssi.vt.EDU (Joel Furr)
Newsgroups: alt.appalachian
Subject: from the alt.appalachian archive (Joel Furr in Galax)
Date: 25 Aug 92 18:21:18 GMT
Organization: The Ohio State University Department of Computer and Information Science

Some of the readers of alt.appalachian may have had the good fortune to visit
the Galax Old Fiddler's Convention (note, it's not the Old-Time Fiddler's
Convention, it's just Old Fiddler's) in Galax, Virginia, an independent city
located on the border of Carroll and Grayson Counties.  I'm not a bluegrass
expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I felt that since I'd lived in
Blacksburg, Virginia for most of my life and Galax is just 90 minutes away, I
owed it to myself to go.

Now, the story becomes complicated when I mention that I went with a group of
fellow Virginia Tech graduate students, all women, all members of the Church
of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, a.k.a. Mormons.  None of them were
really fiery about it but I could tell that they were experiencing some
culture shock when we arrived in Galax, which ain't all that big a place, and
had to park over a mile from the fairground and walk there.  Needless to say,
Galax being Galax, every other pickup truck had a guy in the back wearing no
shirt, faded jeans, and a Bocephus baseball cap and a woman in a shirt with no
sleeves and faded jeans sharing a bottle of something alcoholic.  Fortunately
for our health and well-being my friends said nothing, but did exchange
glances from time to time.  It was clear from my perspective that they'd as
good as walked into a small village on the Upper Amazon.

We were all quite hungry by the time we got to the fairground, not having
bothered to eat before we set out.  The fairgrounds were covered with recre-
ational vehicles and tents, presumably belonging to the hundreds of bluegrass
bands which came to compete.  Along the edge of the fairgrounds, right next to
the path that led to the stage and grandstand, were the trailers and huts
selling food.  Needless to say, I hadn't come all that way just to pay $1.50
for a lukewarm hot dog, and was hoping for some real Mountain Food (tm).  My
friends disgusted me by wandering straight for the booth marked "Fajitas" and
were chowing down a minute later on some mystery meat in a pita pocket glopped
with melted Cheez Whiz.  "Fajitas," I thought.  "Right."  I disgusted them in
turn by lighting up from ear to ear when I saw a booth selling bowls of brown
beans and corn bread, topped with onions.  At the price, $1.00 for a big bowl
and a big piece of corn bread, you couldn't beat it.  I purchased a bowl and
happily ate.

The music was pretty good, although I'm afraid I spent most of the time being
cold since I loaned my jacket to one of my friends who'd not bothered to bring
anything to put on when the sun went down.

Those of you not acquainted with Appalachian traditions may be surprised that
I would assign so much importance to a bowl of beans with some corn bread on
the side, but that's haute cuisine for us Mountain Folk (tm) and we'd rather
have that than coq au vin any day.  :)

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Joel Furr                                                   jfurr@vtssi.vt.edu
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