In the foothills of the Ozarks resides a village that enjoys a Bluegrass jam session one afternoon each week at a town eatery. Not infrequently, a local nursing home sends a van of clients to the premises for an afternoon of entertainment. Some of the regular musicians recently recruited the BRC founder to join them on banjo for a gig at the nearby community Senior Center at its monthly dinner. That night, a dense stormy weather front hung menacingly over southern Missouri as the band took to the stage. The quartet kicked-off with a spirited and familiar hoedown tune.
Despite a hi-tech sound system provided by the venue, deafening thunderclaps soon began to rumble over the building, and the eyes of the audience were drawn to the windows which were illuminated by ominous crackles of lightening. Although only first a trickle, when the wind and chilling rain intensified, the senior citizens began streaming to the doors to get home before the tempest reached its full fury. The band soldiered on to complete its performance before a nearly vacant hall sprinkled with a few dedicated Bluegrass fans and a couple of dutiful staffers. Driving afterwards on a rain-whipped road through a dark and featureless hinterland, the banjo player was glad to return home to the BRC.
The cold and cloudy weather front slowly dissipated and was replaced a few days later by week-long temperatures soaring into the mid 90`s. The musicians regrouped for a sidewalk gig in front of a popular yogurt shop in our capital city. Passersby paused to sing along with sun-filled familiar tunes heralding the arrival of summer to the Heartland. Signaling the end of Missouri`s annual 72 hours of springtime, a seasonal tide of humidity crept over the Show-Me state, and it will not dispel until autumn. A portion of the buskers` tips were donated to the Children`s Hospital.
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