I love the feeling of being in what is called the "deep South". Betsy and her husband took me to hear her son Charlie, a fiddler, play Old-Time music. We sat by a tree on a yard filled with antiques and flying june bugs to watch him and his friends perform old songs that must have travelled from Scotland and Ireland into the Southern Appalachians. "Most of these songs were not written down, they have traveled through generations, so each time they play it they do it differently," Betsy said. "Charlie plays for himself, he just loves it and if someone happens to be listening it's only incidental. It doesn't really matter." For me it was a soothing experience watching him play waltzes with banjos and fiddles as he followed the rhythm tapping his bare feet on the ground. For a moment I felt I could live here, where life seems so straightforward and simple. There are so many lives one could live, it's just a matter of choosing it.