![]() ![]() ![]() If you’ve never been to a Grateful Dead show before, well, in a nutshell, as an audience member, it’s about just being free. When I had to run to the bathroom, or get a beer, she said it was fine. The adults around her helped look after her. Logan was the youngest person in our general vicinity. And, I told her I’d given a ticket away because someone had once done that for me. I got to explain to Logan all about how I’d once given someone a free ticket, and she said “no way!” How, before shows, Deadheads will often hold up one finger, as if to say “I need a miracle.” It’s implied that they need a hand with a free ticket. We saw folks pedaling their wares: tie-dye shirts, incense, and crystals. When we arrived at the venue, we walked, hand in hand, down Shakedown Street, outside the stadium. Let’s just call it a given that there will never be another Jerry Garcia, and never another Grateful Dead. And this is the only one that’s left me feeling energized like I did when I saw the original members play together many times the kind of energy that makes you feel hopeful. Now, mind you, I totally get that the Dead & Company are not The Grateful Dead, but of all the iterations of that legendary band, from Furthur to RatDog, this one has brought me the most fulfillment and contentment. So Logan and I headed off to see the Dead & Company in the Bay Area, Shoreline Ampitheatre. Since I can’t enroll them in an alternative Deadhead education, this was kind of the next best thing. And, of course, who wouldn’t want that experience for their kids? It’s like something just shifted inside me, and well…at the risk of sounding super cheesy, my heart just kind of opened up to a lot more possibilities. Then, in 1989, at the age of 19, I saw them live, for the first time, in Denver at the McNichols Arena, and my life changed forever. In high school, the Grateful Dead’s anti-war stance became the conduit that lead me into their music. While I very much support those who fight for our freedom, I was and remain torn and conflicted by the Vietnam War, and countless wars like it. But, I started to appreciate how Deadheads, and the band itself, cultivated an anti-war sentiment. My dad wore a tie to work every day and I always had short hair. I’d grown up in a pretty conservative household. When I was in high school, I thought Deadheads lived this kind of dirt bag existence I thought they reeked, were unemployed, protested wars and generally didn’t contribute much to society. I haven’t always been a huge Deadhead, as our fan base is called. Even as I write these, I realize they sound like outdated hippie ideals. It’s also really important to me that my kids always believe in the power of community, tolerance, togetherness, peace, love. Since Logan is a little older, I wanted to “check that box” with her first. During their lifetime, it’s really important to me that my kids see Bob Weir, Mickey Hart, and Bill Kreutzmann, three of the original members of The Grateful Dead. The reasons for me wanting to do this are various. So, when my daughter Logan turned 12 earlier this summer, I made good on a promise that someday, I’d take her to see Dead & Company, an iteration of my, hands-down all-time favorite band, The Grateful Dead. Sometimes tragedy is the only thing that takes life lessons from being purely theoretical to something much more concrete and real. I’m good at sharing platitudes like carpe diem and the like, but my mom’s passing taught me to truly seize the moment in a much more literal sense. But, life got in the way and I never made the dream happen and now it’s too late. Before she passed, I kept telling myself that one day, I’d get her, the kids and my wife Mary together and head down to Los Angeles to see a musical, because that’s what my mom loved best watching musicals. ![]() It was a tremendous loss, to say the very least. Three years ago, my mom passed away suddenly. ![]()
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