The Grateful Dead. A band, a community that has been part of my life on and off for over thirty years. Music that had touched my heart, brought reflection at my core and a community that taught me more than words can tell.
I recently had the privilege (along with ten's of thousands!) to say Fare Thee Well to the band and this community during their last concerts together. To say it was bittersweet would be an understatement. Ever since Jerry (Garcia) died, I would catch shows with the remaining band whenever I could. There was Saratoga Springs, Shoreline and a few other places. I took Don with me at their last shows when I was 8 months pregnant with Havana. For those of us who love the Dead, the music brings us together to a place where we share great music, along with the peace, community and idealism that was born in the sixties. Jerry's sweet guitar playing and that voice that sang to so many, might have been gone but his presence was always present.
Havana is six now so it's been a long time since I got to hear, sing along to and dance to the Dead live. I'd wondered for quite some time if they would play again. Rumors or ego's butting heads and other drama circled around but this year, on their 50th anniversary, the boys would be back on tour for one last go at it. That was music to my being.
When the band announced they would be playing a few shows to commemorate their 50th and to say goodbye, I knew I had to be there. Since my children were born, I have let many a show, trip, event, etc, pass me by. What was once important was not so important any longer. I have long learned that I am not better or worse if I do or don't do or experience something. That would have been true if I had not seen the Dead one last time but in my heart, in my gut, I wanted to go. I saw myself there. I wanted to revisit the energy, music, and scene that was home for so long.
This time would be different, however. I would bring my kids. Or so I thought. Turned out Havana is not too keen on loud noises and crowds (like her Mama, with the exception of the Dead). So she stayed home with Papa Don and Amara and I headed out. Her first show would be her last but at least she would experience the ride.
One of the things that Amara wanted to do was meet the band. I told her that would not happen in a crowd of 40,000, along with the fact that they would be backstage. It wasn't like when Uncle Sheldon was in town and we head backstage at a gig. No, we would be two in sea of thousands. Well, to my surprise, that turned out to be wrong. Not twenty minutes after we arrived, there came Billy, in a golf cart, driving around on the grass, handing out rolling papers to promote his book.! I was over the moon for Amara. She manifested her wish! (and later to my delight once more, I happened upon a video of my taking a photo of Amara with him, at that exact moment. Ah, the magic of a Dead show.)
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| We Are Everywhere! |
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| Bobby via the huge teletron. |
When the show started, just about the time the famous Bay Area fogged rolled in, we were ready to go. We danced and smiled and danced some more. Amara had one other wish, to hear Sugar Mag. I foolishly told her that might not happen. But sure enough, they saved her favorite for last and sure enough, she told me, "I knew it."
We left with happy hearts, tired feet and joyful spirits. When Amara passed out in the car, I reflected back on what a gift it was to share that night with her. Life is good.
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