Where in West Virginia, sweet Mmario? Exactly where? Which Cracker Barrel? Was my cousin Billy there? Tall, anorexic looking fella who answers back to the voices in his head? Or my big red-headed cousin Charles and his little wife Linda? They would have been playing checkers while waiting for their party to be called.

Did you stop by Elmer and Beulah's farm, out on Turkey Creek? They're both buried out there, up on the ridge. I always think that if I were to go out there on a warm, Saturday night in June, and sit a spell on the porch steps, the noise of the insects, the frogs on the pond, and the wind in the trees would like as not resolve into the sound of stringed instruments, mountain voices, and the thump of feet clogging and flat-footing on the floorboards of the porch. Were the moon to be full enough to shed some light, I bet I'd see Elmer, frailin' away on his old banjo, gray-haired and plump Beulah leaning beside him on the rail, nodding in time to the music.   Glen would be leaning into the center of the circle, rosin rising from his bow like smoke in the dim light, and behind him and a little to the side, Tommy keeping everyone in perfect time with his rock-steady rhythm guitar playing. John wouldn't appear until it was late and time to slow things down just a bit with his country blues harmonica, and Kaye would by then be just tipsy enough to have the nerve to join in and sing nice harmony on the choruses.

When it got real late and the moon started going down, I imagine they'd all just gently fade into the dark. I'd stand up, brush the dust from the seat of my pants, and walk on back down the lane to my car, thinking, "Yep, those times were almost heaven."