Father's Day Festival 2026

I don't even know where to start, except to say that the 2026 CBA Father's Day Bluegrass Festival was an extraordinary week(end) for Critical Grass. We had been counting down to this festival since we were selected for the California Showcase, back in December. What follows are patches from an exquisite quilt – I hope I can convey some of the color and texture.

Here's your badge

It shouldn't have been a big deal – a manila envelope with five badges in it. But one of those badges had my name and ALL ACCESS on it. They told me I could trade it in and get a special-color "artist" wristband. Don't be ridiculous – my family will find that badge with my "Obama 2008" t-shirt when I die.

Rubbing elbows with heroes

I'm sitting at a picnic table backstage drinking a Coke. Tatiana Hargreaves and Darol Anger are visiting at the next picnic table over. I got to introduce my son (and Critical Grass's mandolin player) John to my friend and former bass teacher Missy Raines.

Bruce the bass

The Sunday before the Father's Day weekend, my bass developed a buzz. Not a huge sound, but it was distinct and unmistakable. I was in an absolute panic. I texted CBA legend Dave Gooding, who collects basses like some people collect tea towels. He replied that he was already up at Grass Valley, but I could use one of his instruments for the specific sets if needed. 15 minutes later, I get a phone call from Lisa Burns.

"Why didn't you call me?!?!?"

"Hi Lisa, how's things?"

Lisa got me into the California bluegrass scene a quarter century ago at Sam's Barbecue in San Jose. We've been friends ever since, and she introduced Critical Grass when we played Parkfield in May.

"How do you know I need a bass?"

"I'm camped right next to the Goodings."

Fair enough. Lisa arranged for me to go to her house in Richmond and pick up Bruce, the bass. So named because when she was dating an Aussie guy when she got the instrument. I've heard weirder reasons for naming an instrument.

Anyway, thanks to the Grass Valley telegraph and Lisa Burns' generosity, my instrument problem was solved almost before it started. And I could go back to worrying about the other 17 things I was supposed to take care of proximate to getting up the Nevada County Fairgrounds.

P.S. After the weekend, I took my instrument to Ifshin Violins in El Cerrito. Colin the bass guy looked at it, banged on the top with the heel of his hand, and pronounced that there was an open seam on the top. "Gimme a couple of days and it will be all better." Which it was, for an extremely reasonable fee.

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Chris Quale on stage with his guitar

Our guitarist, Chris Quale, has been on an infinite number of musical stages in the past few years. That's because two of his sons, Miles and Teo, are part of the Crying Uncle Bluegrass Band. Chris has traveled the world with them, including trips to Norway, France, and Japan. But he's always had a camera and/or van keys, and/or a clipboard with him. It was damn fine to see him up there on the main stage wielding a Martin. In fact, as a special treat, the CBA brought Miles and kid brother Niko up to play the National Anthem before our main stage set on Friday. Chris asked me, "Would you take some pictures and record it? I don't care how dorky it looks." I'm a dad, too, Chris – I'd certainly want that footage if it were my kids.

Just after the main stage show, Chris bumped into my wife, Lisa. I wasn't there, but Lisa reported that Chris hugged her and was beaming. "That was the most fun ever." Yeah, it was.

Playing to one person

When you're up there on stage, audience support and interaction is vital. I mean, it is for me. I want to feel that somebody out there cares about what we're doing. Of course, seeing your close friends and family is a huge deal. But sometimes you can make a connection with one or two people, and think, "If I can make them happy, I'm doing my job." At the main stage show, I had spotted my new friends Corey and Amy Kasir (both excellent musicians) watching from fairly close. To be fair, when it's a 10:00am show on Friday morning, it's pretty easy to make out individual audience members. Anyway, Chris was singing The Dreamer, which has a line about North Carolina. Knowing that Amy is a Carolina native, I looked her way as he sang, "Yadkin County, Tobacco Road, North Carolina..." She threw her arms in the air and whooped. Thank you Amy, that was such a gift to us.

Jeremy smiles

Jeremy Reinhard, he's usually pretty focused on stage. You'd focus too if you had to coordinate three fingers on your right hand while manipulating five strings with your left hand. But when he's raging on a DADGAD guitar, he's got a little more room to breathe. On the Main Stage, we were playing Tim O'Brien's Lands End, and reached the climactic final stage of the tune. During that part, I stop playing the chord changes and just play a pedal D note. We were rocking hard, and almost on a whim, I grabbed my bow and droned the D, arco-style. That note growled out of Bruce. Jeremy's head swiveled toward me, and he grinned.

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Moonlight Sonata

We played the Peter Rowan jamgrass classic Midnight Moonlight on the Pioneer Stage. As it's "normally" played, there's a two-chord bridge after the second verse. It's used for arbitrarily long instrumental solos. East Bay bluegrass legend Dave Courchaine refers to it as, "The extended dance mix." John, as lead singer, decreed that we were going to solo over the verse/chorus changes instead, and even showed precedent of the Jerry Garcia Band playing it that way. Who were we to argue? 

Initially there were going to be four solos – two verse/chorus pairs. But literally the day of, John said, "I'm not taking a solo. Leah, you take the entire verse/chorus pair yourself."

After the second verse and chorus, Leah started into her solo. At the end of the verse changes, I could tell she was just building up a head of steam. "Good thinking, John," I thought. Leah rolled through the chorus changes like a North Shore Oahu breaker, and we returned to the A-vamp. But that solo needed attention. "Leah Wollenberg, everybody," said John. The bleachers cheered, and it was a beautiful afternoon to be at the Pioneer Stage.

Being in Uncle John's Band

Not surprisingly, one of the great blessings of being in this band is getting to play music with my son, John Haupert. We both have busy lives, and despite living 35 minutes apart, we don't see each other as much as I'd like. But when we have a rehearsal or a festival weekend together, I know I will have some solid quality time with my younger son. If you watch Critical Grass play, you'll often see me sidle up alongside him and make eye contact. I can truthfully argue that hey, I'm the 1 and 3, while he's the 2 and 4 – us being in sync is pretty damn important.

Truth is, I just want to marinate in the moment.

This picture below wasn't from Father's Day, it was taken at Parkfield. But it was grabbed by CBA über-photographer Robin Frenette all the same.

Critical doughnuts

It all started at Parkfield. On Thursday, I promised the crowd that if they'd show up Friday morning, we'd bring doughnuts. I was just joking and didn't think any more about it. Until some audience member called me out on Friday morning for not bringing doughnuts. Whoops. But I try not to make the same mistake twice. Sunday morning, I brought doughnuts. It was such a success we decided to do it again. It seemed like the least we could do to thank people who crawled out of tents after picking all night to catch our 10:00am (!) Main Stage show. So I went to Daily Donuts and got four dozen of their finest. Then the legendary Critical Grass support team (shout-out to Lily, Heather, and Joe) distributed the sugar bombs at the merch table. I hope Robin Frenette got a doughnut before they were all gone.

Support team

Critical Grass is not an island. We touch, and are touched, by many people around us. Sometimes that support is 'passive,' friends and family giving us passes on the day-to-day so we can rehearse or play a show. Or it's selling t-shirts and handing out doughnuts at the merch table. One of the most important roles is being in the audience and sending positive vibes our way. There are too many names to mention, but Ray, Cathy, Mike, Jenny, Maria, Lisa, Lily, Heather, Joe, Shelly, Kevin, Mina... we see you. We know you are there, in so many ways, and it makes all this music and joy possible. Thank you.

Living the dream

When I was in high school 50 years ago, I lived for music. I was in the school orchestra, jazz band, and a madrigal choir. My friends were musicians. I played in youth orchestras, rock bands, and went to music camp. Once I'd gotten a taste of being on stage in front of an appreciative audience, that's all I wanted. It didn't really matter if it was Bach, Woody Herman, or Led Zeppelin – if I was part of an ensemble that was kicking ass in front of a crowd, I was happy. I would sometimes cross paths with professional musicians – not stars by any stretch, but people paying their rent by playing music. On some level, it seemed like a dream existence, though my rational self understood that it was a difficult profession with little financial upside. But I'd see those guys climbing into a van for the drive from Baltimore to Richmond, Virginia and I'd think I'd give just about anything to be in that van.

For better or worse, my rational side won out. I went to college, played plenty of music there, but quietly slipped into a computer science program, grad school, IBM, and Regular Life. Seven years ago, I clawed my way back into the music world. Now I was the guy climbing out of the van in Richmond. Thanks to the CBA and the work that we put in, we got to play the CBA Father's Day Festival.

It took half a century, but 17-year-old Lee got his wish. My current self was in the right place at the right time, hanging out with friends and family, and picking tunes in campgrounds.

But the high school senior Lee who dreamed of life as a professional musician – for one magical weekend, well, that kid simply lost his mind.

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Thank you

To the CBA, and specifically Theresa Gooding, Helen Foley, and Chassady Abernathy. They welcomed us in and made us feel at home the whole time. Also many thanks to Robin Frenette and David Cupp for the images. Sometimes I have to look at them to remind myself I was really there.

Finally, if you were at one of our sets at Father's Day, or you have ever been in the audience at a Critical Grass show, thank you a lot. Without you and people like you, the show can literally not go on. To that point:

Go out and support live music. Both you and the performers will be glad you did.

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