It would seem that I, the venerable Jake Grove, am getting old.

When I first moved here some nine years ago, I was a bright-eyed, much skinnier, 22-year-old with visions of changing the world with a single article and making my mark on a crazy, mixed-up world.

Now, at age 31, the world is still mixed up and crazy, and my mark was probably left somewhere in Virginia during the trek down here.

I only realized that I was getting old in the past couple weeks. Whereas nine years ago I would party and hang out with friends until the break of dawn (and still find my way to work the next morning), these days I find it difficult to go to bed after midnight and still be worth a grain of salt the next day.

Whereas nine years ago I would drop everything to leave for a weekend destination that had live music, booze and friends, these days I debate the merits of each and every trip and determine how much it will cost me and whether that money would be more wisely placed into my Roth IRA.

That’s why last weekend was such a departure for me. You see, last weekend, I went to the Asheville Music Jamboree.

The Asheville Music Jamboree is a three-day, three-night music festival that takes place at Deerfields, about 20 miles south of the city of Asheville. There, killer jam bands and funk-o-philes flock to hang with buds, camp out and listen to music that most of the rest of the world has never heard of.

I wanted to go because Keller Williams and Larry Keel would be playing along with Bela Fleck, Burning Spear and the Lee Boys. These are great musicians that you seldom get to see, and they were coming to one place.

The only hang-up was, I’m getting old. I would have to drive an hour-and-a-half and camp out all weekend with total strangers having a great time in the open air and rockin’ to some tunes that I can truly say that I dig.

But my mind wouldn’t let me. My mind kept saying how silly it was to spend a whole weekend at a music festival. My mind said that money could be better spent somewhere else. My mind said, “Jake, you are not a free-spirit, hippie child anymore.”

So, I compromised with my mind. I asked nicely if I could go for two days and nights.

My mind said, “No.”

Then I asked to go for one day and night.

My mind said, “Maybe.”

And after I begged my mind for two hours, much like a child to his mother, my mind relented and I was able to attend.

So, I got to see Keller and the Keels. I got to camp out for one night. And I did it all at the tender age of 31.

Now, if only Anderson will have some kind of cool, three-day music fest with camping and beer and fun.

My mind might let me go for two days and nights.