Teachers used to talk about "man vs. nature" a lot in high school. Well, with a lot of help from a greying Marty Stuart, man wins, baby. The wind was mean.

Have I mentioned the wind yet? Man. One of my eyes fell out and I didn't even notice.

Till Marty Stuart came on, that is. Gotta respect a cat like him. "Helloooo, Hawaii," he laughed into the ice breeze. "What are you people thinking up here?"

He started off old, singing about "Red, Red Wine and Cheatin' Songs" and being "\High on a Mountain Top" and the fact "The Whiskey Ain't Workin' Anymore." He was bundled up in a sweatpants-kangaroo jacket combination. But his wit was sharp and, after the sun gave up, he moved from bluegrass to rock, and back some with selections of The Pilgrim, a CD you should buy if you haven't yet.

Johnny Cash's "Blue Train" came through, rockets flew and broken hearts were half fixed.

The first superstar had arrived and few missed the truant Lorrie Morgan. That Stuart happened to be a real musician made it all the sweeter. We stood, clapped and cheered like hell for him.

This, then, was why we came. This was why the wind, ultimately, ran elsewhere.

The main story of the day, if you haven't heard, was the weather. It was almost unrelenting. Almost.

By Fish Griwkowsky