In 2010, having realized that I’d always wanted to fiddle and that I was old enough (never mind how old) to put aside the need to “get good,” I started taking lessons from Mark Kreitzer, a great teacher/singer-songwriter/multi-instrumentalist. He suggested I go to a bluegrass festival and said that MBOTMA‘s Winter Bluegrass Weekend was approaching. I was hooked . . . on fiddling, bluegrass, festivals, MBOTMA, the whole shootin’ match. Oh joy!
I thought that, since it was pretty clear that I wouldn’t be increasing the quantum of joy in the world through my own playing anytime soon, I could contribute by helping a few really good musicians do so. So here I am.
 Besides my own.
 This is a comment on my own skill, which is limited, rather than on the skill of my teacher, which is not.
 In case it wasn’t already obvious from the (over-?)use of footnotes, my previous careers were in law and education. As you may read in one of my posts, the fiddle apparently can be a great route to downward mobility; it’s not just banjos.