Rounding the corner onto Main St., we could feel as much as hear the percussion section echoing off the brick-faced buildings. The South Granville High School marching band had kicked off the 2012 Creedmoor Music Festival. We parked on the grass by the old feed mill just a street over and made our way to the Southern States parking lot next to City Hall. A couple tents and bandstands marked the center of the festivities.

This early in the morning the streets were empty except for the vendors—about a hundred—lining the sidewalks up and down Main and the crowd of band parents assembled to listen. We were part of that parent crowd, and while the band launched enthusiastically into their next tune we pressed forward to catch a glimpse of our son wrapped up in a shiny silver sousaphone. You know, for a small band they really had an impressive sound. I’m looking forward to their first home game performance.

The marching band was followed by the choir from Mt. Energy Elementary, where my wife teaches fifth grade. A number of her students were on the stage, so we hung around while the parent mix shuffled a bit. Afterward some of her students’ parents came over to introduce themselves. Teaching may be an underpaid profession, but judging by the grins on the kids’ faces it’s not under-appreciated by the families whose lives are touched.

By this time the streets were filling in, and we decided to check out the vendors while the next band set up on stage. Trinkets of all kinds, purses, hand-made cards, a farmers market, baked goods, Tupperware…some tempting, and some just downright funny.

And, of course, there was food. While a few folks hit the taco truck and the Italian ice, most of the vittles were pure Southern: peanuts (boiled or deep-fried), fresh pork rinds (which my Arizona-raised kids couldn’t help calling chicharrones), and truck loads of the real North Carolina treat—pork ribs and smokey pulled pork BBQ slathered in any sauce you could want.

The PA started humming so we wandered back to the bandstands. After the obligatory—and blessedly brief—remarks by the mayor, the show started in earnest. First up was Back Porch Gospel. Blending Southern Gospel standards with a bit of classic country and homey bluegrass, the band is anchored by husband and wife team Roy and Mona Jenkins.

I particularly enjoyed their cover of The Martins’ Count Your Blessings, in which the mandolin and banjo really set their version apart from the original. When they were done I had a chance to chat with Roy and Mona. The band was named for its starting place—the back porch of Mona’s father’s home. He played bass and guitar with the group into his 90s, passing away just a few years ago. For many years they’ve played local festivals and community events, but really enjoy churches and retirement centers. Roy, the banjo player for the group, told me to make sure I caught the next act, which he assured me had one of the best banjo pickers he knew.

I parked myself in front of the other bandstand while Constant Change went through their sound checks. Roy joined me just as the stand-up bass began an up-tempo walking intro.

Followed in short order by the mandolin and fiddle, they went straight into high gear when the banjo kicked in. Roy was right—that ol’ boy has some skills! I can’t normally listen to more than a couple bluegrass songs at a time, but these guys were good, and I was riveted in place for the next half hour. They’ve been garnering attention in the bluegrass world, and I could certainly see why. What I didn’t get was how Creedmoor got them to play here—until Roy filled me in. Two of the band members are from just up the road. Literally. Roy knows their fathers, who were also serious bluegrass musicians, and the mother of another goes to church with Roy right on the edge of town.

Figuring it was time for lunch, I rejoined my wife and called the kids—who were wandering around with friends from school and church—on their cells. (We may be country, but we like our tech.) On the way we ran into friends from the neighborhood and church, a couple local politicians drumming up votes, more of my wife’s students and our kids’ friends, and the marching band director. I really think the whole town turned out.

And that’s as it should be. We may argue about politics, Calvin and Arminius, or—more seriously in these parts—Tar Heels vs Blue Devils vs Wolfpack, but this is a real community, and nothing brings folks together quite like good music and food. That’s how we roll here in small town North Carolina.