I was raised with a solidly eclectic musical base (bass?); opera, Gilbert and Sullivan, Burl Ives, Kingston Trio, hymns - they all carried equal weight (my parents only censored me in one respect. They hid their 10" Tom Leherer record. I guess they thought I'd get into trouble at school by singing "The Old Dope Peddler". They never worried about, say, "Unfortunate Miss Bailey", though.) My switch got thrown twice. About a week after I started college, I went to the first meeting of the folk music club, and I heard an appalachian dulcimer for the first time. That wild, nearly feral version of Shady Grove was like nothing else. Through that club, I went to Pinewoods Club folk music weekends, and figured out pretty fast that it was stupid to treat performers like a different breed of human; it was a lot more fun to become friends, regardless of what they did for a living. I discovered the pure heaven of late night sings, and found myself a happy part of this huge folk network. The second time the switch got flipped was the first time I went into a real coffeehouse (our college one in the Methodist fellowship hall was a nice try, but...) The minute I came through the door of the Caffe Lena in Saratoga Springs, even before I went up the stairs, even before I saw Lena greeting the customers, I knew I was home.