In 1960 I was a student at the University of Arizona in Tucson. Some friends and I helped to convert an adobe shack in downtown Tucson into a Folk coffee house. Sweat equity for free admission. The place was called Ash Alley 421 and it attracted some notable performers, Travis Edmonson being one. I recall that at one of his performances he was accompanied by a beautiful waif-like young woman, pale with long black hair, shy and quiet, who kept to herself. I fell in love. Unrequited. Years later, back home in Baltimore, in 1963, I came across a bluegrass album and there she was, gazing at me from the cover, surrounded by three string players not from Appalachia. I still loved her, now from afar, and bought the album with no hesitation, and no regrets. I used to dance around the house with my infant daughter to her wonderful voice and fine music. Some people you just don't, or can't, forget.