the carter fold

maybe some of you haven't heard of the carter fold, but chances are, you've heard of the carter family. carter-cash, specifically. while we were in heather's hometown, we went to a true appalachian experience, one of the homes of country music. in the woods of a tiny route, there was a wood house that had a dugout behind it with stadium seating, a tin roof, and a stage. it sat about 500, and it was full to the brim.

the carters sang a bunch of things on an old time radio hour that i bet you didn't know was them - keep on the sunny side, let the circle be unbroken, etc. there was one woman, janette, who sang the night we were there with several younger generations. she was the last of the june carter era, and she was in poor health. she couldn't stand on her own, so she sat in a chair in the front of the stage with the youngest surrounding her.

she sang a few slower paced songs with help, and then one came to an end. they asked her to speak. she waited, then softly said into the mic, "i'm not feeling well... and i don't think i ever will again." the place became silent, and then applause filled the dugout. two members of the family came over and helped her shuffle to the back of the stage, where she sat the rest of the evening.

usually i write about anecdotal things because they are funny or laughable, and i realize this is neither. it was just a moment where i felt the history of that place just flood over us. later, as the soulful bluegrass made way to happy folk for flatfootin', we got caught up in the characters swarming the dance floor, dressed to the nines in clogs and bolo ties. even after, though, i've thought about her moment several times since we left.