Silver Strings

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If you were lucky enough to know my grandpa, Fiddlin' Fred Price, then you knew his music.  
He wore deep grooves where his fingers touched the fretboard of his favorite fiddle. It was always white with rosin.
He shared his gift with everyone he knew. Once in an interview before he took the stage at Carnegie Hall, a reporter asked: "Mr. Price, where did you perform last?" "Coleman tobacco warehouse in Mountain City, Tennessee" was the reply. "How did that crowd compare with the people here today?" "Oh, about the same... "
His life was that of an ascetic. Simple. Fulfilled. Surrounded by the beauty of the mountains. Deeply connected to God, his family, and his community and free to make the music that he loved.
​To some, this might look like poverty, but this was a life rich beyond measure.