A Time to Remember
“Pale moon is shinning on the Valley”
“Pale moon is shinning on the Valley”
During my years of searching back through time I have often taken the opportunity to sit and visit a man or woman many years my elder. I came away with bits and pieces of facts, fiction and folklore and of course had to sort through the information to find the obvious truths. Memories are often clouded with hearsay, flavoring a story or an account shared with me. History of course is also salted and peppered to make it more palatable. I have discovered many aspects of the Ozarks that have lain hidden in the minds for many years of older people. Treasures are not always something you can hold in your hand but rather stories and folklore of bygone days. It does not matter, or at least to me many of these old renderings of the past are completely true or not, for they represent a part of America’s heritage.
There are undoubtedly physical treasures secreted away in attics, barns and out building gathering dust at the mercy of dirtdobbers, mice and rats. They are forgotten relics of bygone days or perhaps their original owners have passed on. Much of it is beloved mementoes of families that time has scattered to the four winds. They are mute reminders of people’s lives.
I have observed many treasures of the past piled high on makeshift tables to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Old camelback trunks containing vintage lace, a Stetson hat creased and worn, Depression glass that once added a bit of color to an otherwise drab world of poverty are but few of the items often found in tired old trunks. Many of these items were once prevalent in cabins that stood on the threshold of an ever widening frontier America. The inventory of treasures left behind are fragile from tiny silver thimbles, intricately carved picture frames to diaries revealing intimate details of life and death along the trails of yesterday.
Left behind are vintage guitars, fiddles and banjos and it is not unusual to find one handmade by its owner. The Mountain banjo is a good example of such an instrument and although I’m sure only a few remain they too have crossed the auction block. They vary in flavor and constructions, for some are quite primitive. These old banjos are priceless reminders of our heritage when music was about the only meaningful pastime.
Long before Sears, Roebuck and Company came out with a mass produced fretted banjo, the Mountain banjo rang from the deep southland to the sod houses of Kansas and on westward. The Mountain Banjo was a product of the early settlers of America and unlike the Sears model was fretless and its sound varied from family to family.
Like many other aspects of Americana, the Mountain banjo was born from the innovative spirit of the Irish, Scottish, English and African. The instrument was carried westward on the backs of buck skinners, accompanied families in search of new land and eased the loneliness in the many forts and camp sites scattered across the wilderness. Most folks had time to play whether or not they had time for anything else. The songs they sang reflected hardships, joys and family values.
The Mountain banjo complimented the fiddle, whether in a waltz, a gospel song or a breakdown. Not only was the Mountain banjo an important part of our heritage, but so were the songs often composed on site and sang to the distinct sound of the unusual instrument.
Black Americans while held in bondage contributed much to the gospel sound and the instrument commonly accompanying the words was a Mountain banjo, constructed of what ever material at hand.
Old ballads brought to America from the homeland of immigrants, whether free or enslaved gradually took on a new sound and words and again accompanied by a Mountain banjo ringing out its distinctive clatter.
The roots of country music are deeply entrenched in America’s heart and soul, but time has changed the taste somewhat. Today the sound is amplified and the words frequently reflect broken homes, bar stools and neon lights. There are a few enduring souls, however, who have not lost track of the early sounds of country music and you can find them on the dusty roads through the Deep South or westward though Arkansas to Missouri and beyond. They are still picking the Mountain banjo and singing the prettiest songs you ever heard. Songs like Sally Gooden, Devils’ Dream, Waltz of the Indian and Leather Britches and many others most people have never heard. Some of our music heritage has been misplaced, but it’s still remains, scattered across the country, once the heartbeat and hope of an infant nation and whether from the southland or prairies of the west, they are undoubtedly National treasures to remind us of days long since passed.
“Pale moon is shinning on the valley
That old wagon leans against a stack of hay
Two Graves on the hill side.”
(Author unknown)
There are undoubtedly physical treasures secreted away in attics, barns and out building gathering dust at the mercy of dirtdobbers, mice and rats. They are forgotten relics of bygone days or perhaps their original owners have passed on. Much of it is beloved mementoes of families that time has scattered to the four winds. They are mute reminders of people’s lives.
I have observed many treasures of the past piled high on makeshift tables to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Old camelback trunks containing vintage lace, a Stetson hat creased and worn, Depression glass that once added a bit of color to an otherwise drab world of poverty are but few of the items often found in tired old trunks. Many of these items were once prevalent in cabins that stood on the threshold of an ever widening frontier America. The inventory of treasures left behind are fragile from tiny silver thimbles, intricately carved picture frames to diaries revealing intimate details of life and death along the trails of yesterday.
Left behind are vintage guitars, fiddles and banjos and it is not unusual to find one handmade by its owner. The Mountain banjo is a good example of such an instrument and although I’m sure only a few remain they too have crossed the auction block. They vary in flavor and constructions, for some are quite primitive. These old banjos are priceless reminders of our heritage when music was about the only meaningful pastime.
Long before Sears, Roebuck and Company came out with a mass produced fretted banjo, the Mountain banjo rang from the deep southland to the sod houses of Kansas and on westward. The Mountain Banjo was a product of the early settlers of America and unlike the Sears model was fretless and its sound varied from family to family.
Like many other aspects of Americana, the Mountain banjo was born from the innovative spirit of the Irish, Scottish, English and African. The instrument was carried westward on the backs of buck skinners, accompanied families in search of new land and eased the loneliness in the many forts and camp sites scattered across the wilderness. Most folks had time to play whether or not they had time for anything else. The songs they sang reflected hardships, joys and family values.
The Mountain banjo complimented the fiddle, whether in a waltz, a gospel song or a breakdown. Not only was the Mountain banjo an important part of our heritage, but so were the songs often composed on site and sang to the distinct sound of the unusual instrument.
Black Americans while held in bondage contributed much to the gospel sound and the instrument commonly accompanying the words was a Mountain banjo, constructed of what ever material at hand.
Old ballads brought to America from the homeland of immigrants, whether free or enslaved gradually took on a new sound and words and again accompanied by a Mountain banjo ringing out its distinctive clatter.
The roots of country music are deeply entrenched in America’s heart and soul, but time has changed the taste somewhat. Today the sound is amplified and the words frequently reflect broken homes, bar stools and neon lights. There are a few enduring souls, however, who have not lost track of the early sounds of country music and you can find them on the dusty roads through the Deep South or westward though Arkansas to Missouri and beyond. They are still picking the Mountain banjo and singing the prettiest songs you ever heard. Songs like Sally Gooden, Devils’ Dream, Waltz of the Indian and Leather Britches and many others most people have never heard. Some of our music heritage has been misplaced, but it’s still remains, scattered across the country, once the heartbeat and hope of an infant nation and whether from the southland or prairies of the west, they are undoubtedly National treasures to remind us of days long since passed.
“Pale moon is shinning on the valley
That old wagon leans against a stack of hay
Two Graves on the hill side.”
(Author unknown)
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