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Billie.

What a wonderful job you have done here, but then again, that's what everyone has come to expect from you, and you never disappoint.

I have a story to tell you.

A long time ago (longer than I care to remember, or admit to) I was traveling northbound on a chartered Greyhound bus (a caravan of buses) along with the rest of my College Symphonic band. We were headed for Virginia, to play a concert under the stars in Williamsburg and one in Jamestown, it was the bicentennial.

Along the way, we stopped on New Orleans, and performed there as well. Then we partied with all the rowdiness and crazy energy you can expect from college students spending one night in the Big Easy. We attacked that towns with a fury not seen since the War Between The States, except we were much, much friendlier.

As you may imagine, I was exhausted from the experience, and on the third day ( and a bit behind schedule) we picked up some extra drivers and decided to drive all day and through the night into Greenville.

We played cards and carried on until the wee hours of the morning in that bus, but eventually, I fell sleep in the seat behind the driver.

When I woke up sometime later, there was magic in the air all around me. I can only describe it as that magic that exists when the remains of the night reluctantly give way to the warm kiss of the day. And the earth wakes up from its slumber.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and used the sleeve of my shirt to wipe away the condensation on the inside of my window.

What a sight Billie!

Like a dream, or a postcard, or the memory of home someone who hasn't been there in a long, long time holds in their mind.

There was a mist, and there were hills in the distance that seemed to rise up from under the wheels of our bus, and gently lift themselves up to the heavens.

There were trees, their leaves sparkling with drops of dew, and a big, beautiful sky with a hint of cotton-candy clouds.

For a moment, I thought I was alone in the world...just me and this picture perfect piece of God's creation on the other side of my small window.

Then I guess the driver heard me moving behind him, or maybe he saw me staring, and said "good morning"

"Where are we?"--I whispered to him.

"Son, we're deep in the heart of dixie. South Carolina is saying her good mornings to you."

I thought I would never see anything as beautiful, or graceful as that dawn in the Upcountry, but I was wrong.

I met someone as beautiful and graceful one evening in Ft. Lauderdale. I was there to meet some intimate strangers, friends whom I had never met. I was there to meet FReepers.

There was a lot of "good to meet you's",backslapping and hearty handshaking going on in that room.

That's the night I met dixiesass, and I have to tell you, a South Carolina dawn, viewed from somewhere along the banks of a river, framed by God's bluest sky didn't hold a match to her.