Jake Quesenberry

Hooked on Bluegrass

Jake Quesenberry

My first recollection of music that is now called bluegrass is the same memory I have of hearing music, period. To me, that sound was music. Any other sound was not music to me. If you look up the definition for music, it means a pleasing sound to the ear. My earliest memory goes back to about 1935-36. I was sitting on a swing on the huge front porch of my Uncle Baxter and Aunt Mary’s house in Pike County, Kentucky. I was about six years old when my first cousin and a friend of his were standing on the lawn next to the porch playing the mandolin and the guitar and singing in harmony. I thought then that it was the sweetest sound on this side of heaven. When I come to think about it, I still do. Not long after that I lost my Mom and a little bit later, my Dad. I wound up living with my aunt and uncle in that house. They had six boys and the youngest one was just a little bit older than I. They could all play and sing. My uncle taught us all to sing gospel music by an old shape-note songbook. During WWII, all the boys went into the service and left little Jakie at home with the family guitar. I played with a few good musicians before I, too, had to go into the service where I met people that played other types of noise music. Well, I guess you must be tired of me by now so I’m gonna wrap it up. I hope you enjoyed this little bit of nostalgia.