Prescription Bluegrass Editorial - WHEN COMMUNITY IS CONTAGIOUS!

by  Davis Welborn On April 25, Prescription Bluegrass published this story of bassist Gene Libbea's mysterious illness. While working as an instructor at a fiddle camp, Libbea was exposed to strep throat by an infected student, whom he calls "Ventura Fiddle Girl". Ventura Fiddle Girl was there with her mother. While sitting across from Libbea at breakfast, the girl confided that she had strep. Just a few days later, Libbea became seriously ill. After 12 days of suffering from an infectious illness that five doctors could not diagnose, and a subsequent five-day hospital stay, Libbea announced that he had been discharged from the hospital. That part of his story, at least, has a happy ending, but what are we to make of the girl?

Our "Guest Editorial" this week is by; Dust bowl grandchild, Davis Welborn,  a bluegrass singer and a freelance publicist for clients in music, publishing, and high tech. She loves nature, dogs, and the Enneagram.

Ventura Fiddle Girl, I get it: In 1953, Bill Monroe survived a head-on collision and 19 broken bones to return to full-time touring just eight months later. In 1982, he underwent emergency surgery for an enlarged prostate, and was onstage three hours later, playing and singing for a 60-minute show. We share these true stories over and over again to strengthen the bluegrass community by imbibing the mythos of bluegrass culture. We share them to bind ourselves in spirit to the Father of Bluegrass, and to inspire ourselves to heroic deeds, both musically and personally.

Maybe you're not a sociopath who runs roughshod over everyone in your ruthless quest for ... whatever it is you're after. Maybe you're just a crazy kid who wants to make her mark in bluegrass music. Maybe we can say the same about your mother who, doubtless, was the driving force behind your reckless decision to attend that camp.
But broken bones and an enlarged prostate are not contagious (You do know that, right?). Strep throat most certainly is.

You held on to your deposit, and in so doing, saved a few hundred bucks. You cost Gene Libbea many times that in doctor's visits, a lengthy hospital stay, and everything that goes with it. You cost his friends, fans, family, and colleagues fear and anxiety. You cost his mother the emotional turmoil of a 125-mile trip, not knowing if her son would be alive when she got there.

Your intentions may have been benign, but actions have consequences. Your actions had malignant -- maybe even fatal -- consequences. There's no telling how many other people you may have infected.

So, Ventura Fiddle Girl -- and all you other aspiring bluegrass legends -- the next time you want to be a hero, save somebody else first.

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