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I'm sure you know that as a loyal American, Old No. 36 lacks nothing.

Listen, I worry every night that I wasn't at the Battle of Concord or wrote the words to "The Star- Spangled Banner" before Francis Scott Key ever got the idea.

NEW YORK -- It's a time to meet teachers, tour classrooms and nibble on snacks. But back-to-school night shouldn't stop there.

The night, which usually occurs within a few weeks of the first day of school, is a chance for parents to ask questions to prepare for the coming year.

B.B. King is 82 years old. He'll be 83 on Sept. 16. The blues giant could just lean back at this point, and no one would blame him.

Instead, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member performs about 100 dates a year. He's playing at the Roanoke Performing Arts Theatre on Tuesday. He has a new record coming out in August. He is scheduled to begin hosting a blues show on XM radio in September. And the B.B. King Museum and Delta Interpretive Center is opening in Indianola, Miss. -- the town where he grew up -- just three days before his birthday. Coincidentally, Indianola is less than 100 miles south of the fabled "crossroads" of U.S. highways 49 and 61.

"The Early Show" 7 a.m. WDBJ (Channel 7) Countdown to Election Day; shark survivor stories

"Today" 7 a.m., 11 a.m. WSLS (Channel 10) Rep. Nancy Pelosi; P. Allen Smith; wall design; Joy Fit Club

Q: How should we handle the noises (moaning, angry grunting), the gestures (eye rolling, swinging an arm in the air) and the posturing (door slamming, loud stomping) that ensue so often around here lately when we reprimand our 6-year-old twin boys? It can sometimes get a bit out of hand, especially the door slamming. And aren't all these gestures and motions an outward sign of disrespect?

"Shadow of the Silk Road," by Colin Thubron. (Harper Perennial, $15.95.) The Silk Road is a fretwork of trade routes dating back to 1500 B.C. Here, Thubron, the dean of British travel writers, recounts his 7,000-mile journey along the route in 2003 and 2004, from Xian, China, to the Turkish coastal city of Antioch. "At different periods, everything on the known earth had passed this way," Thubron writes: "frankincense, rhinoceros horn, cucumbers, musk, dwarfs, lapis lazuli, peacocks, indigo eye-shadow ... even a caged lion or two." Today policemen looking for drugs and bureaucrats protecting borders have replaced the traders. Thubron, who traveled in this area before the collapse of the Soviet Union, compares present with past, making the book "moving in a way that's rare in travel literature," Lorraine Adams commented in The New York Times Book Review.

I was planning to post a lot this afternoon, but my laptop tanked, a power issue at the Internet kiosk just killed an entry, and I want to see the Avetts. So here's a quick post, and the last one today.

First, The Rev. Peyton's Big Damn Band just flat rocked it. Four shows here, and the group became the buzz of the festival. Someone has got to bring them in for a date in Roanoke, Blacksburg or Floyd before the next fest. Please.

The reverend's Piedmont blues on acid, wildly varying tempos and musical sidekicks -- his wife on washboard and his brother on drums -- are strengthened by the force of his personality. Peyton wants singalongs on every song, and plenty of new fans at FloydFest complied.

Check this act out!

If you're a big fan of the Avett Brothers, then you know that today's final act recently signed with Columbia/American Records, and their next CD will be a Rick Rubin production. Now I'm going to catch the rest of the band's set, and look forward to what happens with the Avetts and Rubin.

If you're not in Floyd to catch the band, they'll be at Jefferson Center on September 19.

There are a ton of people I'd like to mention here, and I'll try to wrap that up tomorrow. But for now, I'm out.

Earlier this week, I ran into John McBroom, bassist for Blue Mule. Turns out, he's a production honcho here at the fest, and has been volunteering here for several years.

As we spoke, a young woman drove up in one of the fest's many golf carts. McBroom introduced me to his daughter, Melissa, 18.

"She's going to be the youngest production manager at FloydFest," he said.

Since about year two, Melissa and her mom, Chastity McBroom, have been volunteers at the merchandise tent, where Melissa worked for Chastity, or Chaz. The next year, Melissa McBroom was assistant manager at merch. She was 13.

"She absolutely just rocks it, and takes care of it in a beautiful way," mother said of daughter.

A reconstituted Blueground Undergrass took the Hill Holler stage late Saturday afternoon. The Rev. Jeff Mosier, his brother, Johnny, and pedal steel player Mark Van Allen are the core. New fiddle player Owen Saunders and a solid and jazz/funky new rhythm section joined them.

I had never heard BGUG before it played Roanoke last year. The version that played back then was good, but this lineup would bring the band's real vibe, Jeff Mosier had said. He was right.

Some fog hanging around the hills, not so low as to obstruct your view. Torches light the way down the long hill.

People place big logs in the campfire, sending sparks up into the breeze that stays steady all morning. Twisting spotlights from the stage flash into the cloud of smoke and sparks as it twirls up and out.

Giant Panda Guerilla Dub has it locked in like superglue. Really good singer. Two large video screens play snippets of "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," "A Scanner Darkly," "Napoleon Dynamite" and more while Giant Panda grooves, very clean, neo-traditional reggae.

The keyboard player plays a melodica. It's a good sound for this music.

Lots of people up front, bouncing and dancing. A drummer back behind the big campfire is playing along, boiling up some 16th note patterns.

No watch onhand, no desire to ask what time it is. It is late, but it is early.