In 1976 there was a bluegrass band over here in Knoxville that called and said, “Would you like to go to Poland and play?”  Naturally I said yes.  We went with a clog and dance team from North Carolina in a musical exchange program and played all the music for them.  We’d play on flat bed trucks or in the village squares.  All the people would walk up to us and they spoke no English.  They were very grim, very plain, but the minute we started playing everybody started smiling.  

     Now I have always been a fool about Polish sausage, so I thought what a great opportunity to go to the market.  At that time Poland was still under communist rule.  All the fine cuts of meat were sent to Russia and they were left with cold cuts.  Meat day was on Thursday.  I found out where the market was, and I made the mistake of going down there where all the women were lined up.  No men, only women.  With the scarcity of meat, you almost got mobbed.  I pointed out to what I wanted and got a big rope of Polish sausage.  I got back to my hotel room and took my dobro apart and put the cone in my suitcase.  I put the Polish sausage inside the dobro, coiled it around and around and put the cover back on.  I brought it home on the airplane.  If customs had opened my dobro case, I’d have been sunk. 

by Tut Taylor