My Grandad was Jim Henry, and he had an auto salvage in a small town in Oklahoma. My other Grandad was not Jim Henry, but when he went fishin' at the local fishin' hole, there were often a couple of "colored" (please! this is a quote! it was the politically correct word back then!) gentlemen down there fishin' too. My Grandad was always a gentleman, and taught me to be respectful & polite to all persons, and would get out his harmonica & play some of the Irish tunes he knew while wating for the fish to bite. The other gentlemen would often join in, as one of them commonly brought his guitar. I was fascinated & often mesmerized by the wonderful music which spontaneously sprang from these afternoons down at the fishin' hole. I loved the way that the gentlemen would play tunes with what Grandad called "ragged rhythm" and make Grandad's jigs & reels sound like jazz, especially when the pop bottle neck on his finger would make the sliding sound on the guitar strings. When I was about 7 or 8, Mother didn't want me to go down to the fishin' hole with Grandad anymore, since she didn't think it was appropriate for a little girl to be fishing. But I went with Grandad when I could slip away, just to hear the wonderful music! I heard some of the best music in my life down at that fishin' hole--how I wish I could go back in time & hear that music again!