Bluegrass Festivals are held virtually in every state in the country and there is a bond that unites them all.  Its ordinary people gathering together, listening  and playing.  Going from group to group, carrying their instruments, bringing their music, sharing their harmonies, renewing old friendships and making new ones.  It is the father with his ancient guitar and his son with his new banjo joined by his mother on a beat-up bass, stirring everyone who hears.  It is the first rays of light on a Sunday morning, shining across a meadow filled with gospel music.  It is actually meeting the old legends like Ralph Stanley and the future legends like Rhonda Vincent.  It is a big sound from a small mandolin player.  It is a group of young people playing sweet music from their hearts.   It is Jerry Douglas on stage, alone, mesmerizing an entire crowd with his artistry.  It is a fiddler making tears come to your eyes.  It’s looking at a friend, your mouth hanging open, saying, "Did you hear that?"  It’s smiling so much your face hurts.  It’s leaving your chair in the same place for three days, knowing it'll be there when you come back. It is a way of life, away from the rushing and hurrying.   A chance to get back to yourself, laughing, joking, enjoying, celebrating life.  A chance to thank God.