Oh Look -- Football

I am an island. A lone wolf. A voice in the wildnerness.

I am a Steelers fan in Browns country.

Most folks who know me understand that to me, football has no real purpose. When I watch it, I am unmoved. It lacks the grace of baseball, the speed of basketball, and the agility of figure skating.

It's a bit how I feel about metal rock. There is only one level -- brutally loud -- and no grace, no real style.

Bluegrass grabbed me as a popular form of music because it possesses an agility and style that other popular forms seem essentially to lack, especially today. But I notice it doesn't get much airtime. Kind of like table tennis.

Not so football, or metal, or other forms of entertainment built to sooth the masses.

Tough game. Steelers still up by only ten after the first half. But they have the hills and the bridges of Pittsburgh to navigate. Cleveland has the Inner City Highway -- get in and out as quickly as possible. All speed--no style.

I guess some folks might say that about certain subgroups of bluegrass, and probably about some players. It's probably true.

But not in this case.

I've been hanging around some old standards and trying to get a couple of them in my fingers. This one is definitely in the standard category. It has plenty of speed, and here is played by a couple of style masters, Jim & Jesse. The McReynolds played together until Jim's death in 2002. Jesse carries on with other family members now, continuing the traditional bluegrass legacy that made Jim & Jesse such a hit in their day. He's been at it 59 years. WHO has a job they LOVE for 59 years???!!!

I love bluegrass.

And Pittsburgh.

[How about that. Steelers up by 16 now. Here's the field goal...it's good, of course.]

[Oh. Excuse me. Before I can even finish this post we're up another touchdown. There's the kick....oh man. I better go to bed before the game turns.]

Bringing In The Georgia Mail

See the engine puffing, boy she's making time
That old trains wearing out the rail, rail, rail
Heading for the mountain that she's got to climb
Bringing in the Georgia mail

Ninety miles an hour and she's gaining speed
Listen to the whistle moan and wail, wail, wail
Has she got the power I'll say yes indeed
Bringing in the Georgia mail

See the driver's travel watch her spin the track
Ought to put that engineer in jail, jail, jail
Has he got her rolling watch her ball the jack
Bringing in the Georgia mail

Rocking and a reeling spouting off the steam
Stoke the fire and hope the brakes don't fail, fail, fail
Serving all the people listen to her scream
Bringing in the Georgia mail