The defining moment of the Folk Festival, for me, came near the end. I had been tracking the hip-hop group from Manhattan for two days, hoping to see some cool moves to report back to my sons. I was delighted to hear that a decision had been made to showcase the group one last time. Finally, they were to perform on a stage, during the last time slot Sunday evening. The group before the hip-hoppers was a collection of fiddlers. One was a young guy from down South, a new phenomenon in fiddling. His wife was there watching from offstage. One of the other fiddlers mentioned that this young star was also a superb step dancer, at which point his wife joined him onstage and their feet flew in the dance. Afterward, she was approached by one of the young men in the hip-hop group. He asked her to show him some of her moves. This, for me, was the moment: a young, black, urban, hip-hop artist with his deft moves and awe-inspiring speed, learning something new from a white country girl from West Virginia.