Last week, I met a woman who convinced me that, even if genes and circumstance conspire to keep me from reaching my 100th birthday, I’d settle for anything past 90.
I first heard about Lidabell Beagles when a co-worker told me she clogged with a woman whose 93-year-old mother-in-law played mandolin in The Valley Singers, a bluegrass/gospel band. Intrigued, I drove to LaFayette, Ga., to interview her for a story that ran Tuesday.
After our brief visit, I can honestly say that, of all the remarkably talented people I’ve met in my dual careers as journalist and amateur musician, few have captured my fascination as completely as she did.
Lidabell — an adorably appropriate name if ever I’ve heard one — looks at least a decade younger than her 93 years. The black in her permed hair is still holding its own, and her hands have a strength that is probably as much the product of playing music as it is the decades she spent weaving at Peerless Woolen Mills in Rossville.
Sitting at her feet as she told me her life story, I was enthralled, in part because it was undeniably fascinating but also because of the number of parallels to my own musical upbringing.