Last weekend we had my niece-in-law (if that is even a relation) up for the weekend.

I suppose I will be getting a lot of weekend guests now that I am living in the heart of the mountains.

But since April was our first guest in our new house I pulled out all the stops.

The guest bed was turned down with mints on the pillow, the towels were folded fresh in the guest bath complete with black bear figurines adorning the walls and a visitor's guide to the Smokies was left lying on the bedside table, complete with coupons to all of the local shows.

Now, it's been bitterly cold.

I truly haven't warmed up since we moved here.
I mean my gosh, when it is 65 degrees here and everybody is running around in t-shirts and shorts, and here I am all bundled up in sweaters and long handles.

I just can't seem to get these people to understand that 65 is considered cold where I'm from.
However, Friday night saw the arrival of April and her family.

They were so excited to be in the mountains, despite the bitterly cold wind howling outside. After a quick tour of the new house, supper and the oohs and ahs of our mountain view, we sat down to make plans for the coming weekend.

It was decided that we would attend the legends show here in town, and, because local folks get in free I could hardly contain my excitement.

Not only was I going to see "Kenny Rogers", "Patsy Cline", and "Elvis", I was not having to pay a dime.

Now, the younger ones in our group did not have a clue who we were talking about as we read off the names of the headliners but I sure did. My gosh, hadn't Granny worshipped the very ground Elvis walked on?

Didn't my own mother used to clean the house to the raspy voice of Kenny Rogers, before all the surgeries of course, bellowing from the turntable?

That night as I settled into my seat - third row, fourth from the center - I looked at the stage with glee and clapped loudly as the Kenny Rogers impersonator walked out on stage.

As I quietly sang every song, word for word, I was transported back to me as a child clutching my first Kenny Rogers record and playing it over and over again until the needle broke on the old turntable.

And then when the Patsy Cline impersonator came out on stage I cried like a baby.
I was reliving my childhood and when my great nephew in law leaned over and asked me how I knew all these songs I just nodded my head and continued to sing, a huge grin on my face.

Of course had it not been for sheer embarrassment I probably would have been standing at the stage to recieve one of Elvis' silk scarves (and had it been the real Elvis I probably would have killed a few old women to get there). But, as I looked around at the sea of faces in the audience I was captivated at the old visages staring up at that little stage.

The whistling, whooping and hollering were not coming from the young adults and children in the theater but from their parents, grandparents and even their great grandparents.

We were all as a collective group transported back to our younger days. Granted not everyone in that group was sitting on a farm in South Georgia like myself, but you could tell by the glazed look in their eyes that they were remembering their own special times.

Two hours of music and memories and I didn't have to pay a dime - now that's what I call entertainment!