Quarantine, Patti, and Grateful Dead Memories

It's been a long time since I've written a blog post.  Not much has inspired my creative writing muse lately I suppose. 

I mean certainly - I have had a lot of thoughts that have brought me joy, anger, sadness, and good old righteous indignation - but nothing blog-worthy.

Then last night, in our usual after-dinner pre-tv mode of chatting and having a cocktail, we started to reminisce. This is a busy time- or I mean- it used to be and memory-wise this time is filled with dates to recount.  Especially good times: fond memories of Passover tables filled with loved ones, spring tours of the Grateful Dead - indoor shows with outdoor lot festivities, the greening promise of spring, the end of the school year, and a few days ago, April 24, my friend Patti's birthday. 

A particular story comes to mind - it was 1982 - we were living together in our pretty rocking apartment in Brighton Massachusetts.  Let me set the scene.  Patti worked in a mental health facility for developmentally disabled adults. I worked in a placement center for teens who had broken the law and had to be removed from their homes for various reasons, most stemming from inconsistent parenting (putting it mildly). This was already my second job out of college, my first a disastrous stint as the assistant director of the Hillel at Northeastern University.  

Both Patti and I worked the second shift, that being a 3:00 - 11:00 pm shift at our respective jobs, and we didn't mind the hours.  We both liked to sleep late, and both enjoyed keeping those same hours on our days off.  This was Boston, and this was the early 80's so there wasn't a lot to do by the time we got home, but on rare occasions, we could go out, at that time.  Once driving home I heard that this new band "The Cars" were playing at a converted warehouse not far from where we lived and we changed our clothes and caught a very exciting show at midnight!

That April we were excited about seeing the Grateful Dead when they played Providence, Rhode Island. Imagine our delight when the Dead appeared on SNL the night before! Since the Dead weren't playing Boston on this tour, and Providence was only an hour away, this was an easy show to get to, and we had a blast. The concert was great and we wanted more. On Monday, we made a big sign on a bed sheet in groovy Grateful Dead lettering proclaiming "I Need a Miracle!" To my knowledge, no one had come up with that before, so yes, I do take credit for that, and you are welcome. 

There's a gap in my memory now, because I don't know why we didn't have work on Tuesday or Wednesday - (or did we use up sick days??) - and if Patti were still alive, obviously she'd remember a detail like this.  But Tuesday morning we got in my car with our little bags packed, our banner ready and drove to Hartford for the next two shows.  Hartford is only an hour and a half from where we lived so I suggested we stop in Sturbridge on our way.  I think I was thinking we'd explore Old Sturbridge Village - as I am a sucker for those kinds of things, but instead we did a little shopping and each got a jean jacket.  We then continued to Hartford.

Michael and Patti in 1983 at Duke - Patti in her jean jacket.

Me, today, in mine.  I added the fringe in about 1986. The haircut I gave myself two weeks ago.

Back then, I had every confidence that we would get tickets for the shows, and find an affordable motel room.  Patti never had that kind of optimism and felt my reckless ways would be our undoing. So first things first, we got a room.  Next, of course off to the Civic Center to find tickets.  

I remember parking in an indoor garage, and opening the trunk to get our banner out.  No sooner had we unfurled our masterpiece - then two guys appeared out of nowhere, laden with gear.  Patti backed away, but I assured her they were okay.  Tapers.  Our miracle happened right then - they provided us with two tickets for that night's show, if we would help them smuggle in their taping equipment.  Apparently they never search girls, and if I'd just hide this deck up my skirt, and Patti put these cables in her jeans, we could have the tickets.  Before Patti could say no, I was agreeing, saying it was Karma!  And did they have tickets for tomorrow?  (They didn't but rumor was that they were available at the box office.)

So we spent the next little while doing what Deadheads may do, hanging by the car, sharing stories and of course these guys promised us copies of the tapes. (Which, by the way, I am still waiting for...)

When it was time to go in, Patti was a wreck, and I was pretty confident, despite the discomfort of the tape deck tied to my waist.   Once we got through the gates, we gave the guys their stuff and went our separate ways, they went to the taper's section, we went to the box office where, sure enough, we snagged tickets for the next night.

Little scraps of paper with setlists, ticket stubs, and that same jean jacket are the tangible remnants of that time.  My memories, (dotted with holes) now written for you in this blog, are of an April holding promise, and positivity. The shows, now available on archive, are below.   

A few days later we came home and celebrated Patti's birthday.  I'm guessing we both went back to work, energized by our road trip and three awesome shows. 

Right now as I sit in the sixth week of quarantine and the 12th week of rotten weather I remember a line that rings more true every time I hear it.  "One way or another, this darkness got to give."

And just like that, the sun has come out, and it's time to get outside for a few minutes and collect some rays on my face before I go back to work.  Maybe April holds a little promise for me today after all.

Click Here for Providence Civic Center 4/15/82

Click here to listen to Hartford Civic Center 4/17-82

Click here for Hartford 4/18/82

Happy Birthday Jerry

I should be working now... it's a Thursday... and obviously I'll get back to work after I finish this... 

But I can't help but take a minute and share some thoughts about Jerry on his birthday, today, August 1.  He has now been glorified, canonized, cartoonified, copied, and genre-ized.  Even non-Deadheads know who he is, and can be called either Jerry or Garcia and we all know who we mean.

Deadhead bars, bands, clothing and paraphernalia are more popular now than when he was with us, and this phenomenon seems to be growing as young people hop on the bus.  Thanks to Dead & Company,  Phil & Friends, Bob Weir & Wolf Brothers, all bands with original members who keep the music alive young crowds and old fans get to see our beloved icons still making music.

In honor of this day, and because I can, here is a radio interview Jerry did with the famous DJ Scott Muni and Jerry Garcia.  I am caller 3 or 4, you can hear it in its entirety  or watch a little video I made which has a guy before me and then my question.  

Short Video with Juliet's Section

Entire Audio click here:  https://soundcloud.com/juliet-cantor-barr/interview-with-jerry


So, that's it.  Back to work, until it's time to go out and dance and hang out with a few of my favorite friends and let the music wash over me, giving me a chance to find new meanings to old melodies. 

Happy Jerry Day, People!

Four Concerts and a Funeral

Click here for The Wheel from Hartford 6/28/16 - thank you Dave Davis

Dead and Company are touring now and if you have caught any of the shows, either live or via your couch, you might agree that if it's not the real thing, it's close enough to pretend.  My journey with this iteration began in the fall with the Halloween shows at Madison Square Garden, and as much as I loved those, this last run has shown us that they've really become a band.  They've tightened up, brought out "new" old material and they look like they are having some fun out there.

Depending where you go, you can find a fairly authentic "Shakedown Street" taking over part of the parking lot,  with lots of groovy Dead-related chochtkes, and the obligatory veggie burrito stand, $3 beers and $1 waters.

I was happy to find a nice little hand-made pink-rose head wreath to replace the one I left in a hotel room after the last Furthur tour.

My tour took me to Saratoga, two shows at Citifield and Hartford Connecticut.  Each one is a story in itself.  The people, the music, the scene... it was a rainbow full of sound.



So I will start with Saratoga, and the perfect symmetry of the place, the music and my personal story of  NOT meeting Bob Weir.

Seeing Dead and Company at Saratoga Performing Arts Center on June 21 was not the first time I had ever been there.  I had seen Furthur play there a few years ago, and way back in July of 2001 --- I was lucky enough to see the double bill of Phil and Friends and Ratdog play at SPAC.

Since there WAS a band called Ratdog, Bob Weir and the recently departed Rob Wasserman (bass) were the founding members of this sometime trio which included Jay Lane (drums), and usually others including Jeff Chimenti (keyboard) and Steve Kimock (guitar).  The band formed in 1995 (before Jerry died, actually) and toured heavily except when Furthur was going strong.  This particular summer the group also included Mark Karan and Kenny Brooks.

Phil Lesh has been playing with assorted friends since 1998, and too many to name here.  The summer I saw them at SPAC the friends included John Molo (drums), Warren Haynes (guitar) Jimmy Herring (guitar) and Rob Barraco (keys) - a favorite line-up that would later be known as the Q - for the Quintet.  Or maybe it already was then, but not to me!

But wait.  There's more.  After years of seeing the Grateful Dead, and now Ratdog, and, okay, me being maybe just a little starry-eyed over Bob Weir, a conversation that had been going on in our family finally came back to the surface.

Turns out my husband Michael's brother was really good friends with Rob Wasserman.  As in REALLY good.  Backstage pass kind of good.  Brother-in-law had suggested many times we go meet Rob, as he is a super nice guy.  I never said yes to his offer, but this time, at my husband's urging, we decided to go for it.  Get the backstage passes.  Meet Rob Wasserman.  Maybe even meet Phil Lesh and --gulp -- Bob Weir too!

I don't remember the drive up to Saratoga.  I don't remember where we stayed.  I remember going to the box office and getting our passes, which were stickers we put on our jeans.  I have to admit I don't remember the first set at all, because I was a nervous wreck.   A few times during Bobby's set, my husband asked me if I wanted to watch from the side of the stage.  I definitely did not.

As we neared the set break, it was now or never. I had my camera in my shaking hand.

Going backstage was surprisingly easy.  As I stood there, trying to be invisible, I saw Bob Weir coming off the stage.  He greeted a few friends.  He looked a little sweaty and really --- real! And wonderful.  I took a few photos and tried to hide and not make eye contact. After I collected myself enough, we went further backstage to find Rob Wasserman.

While my head was swimming from this close encounter with my idol, Michael awkwardly asked a security guy where Rob was, when he was standing right next to us.  Oh well.  He pretended not to have heard. He was hard to miss, as he stood very tall and sightly disheveled.  And as discombobulated as I had been a minute before, Rob's kind, calm way immediately brought me back to earth. He remembered who we were, and thanked us for coming. I had brought my "Trios" CD with me and asked him to sign it, which he was happy to do.

Can you see where he signed it?  All I had was a red sharpie... 
It says "Juliet Peace Rob Wasserman"

We chatted for a minute or two more, but he seemed to be ready to go back into the Green Room.  Before we left, he asked if we wanted to meet Bob.  At the same time, Michael said "Yes!" and I said, "No!" leaving Rob looking a little confused.  We thanked him for the passes and started to walk back the way we came.

I put the CD back in my bag.  "I should have taken a picture." I said, looking at the camera that had been in my hand and as I looked up, there, right in front of us was none other than Phil Lesh.  He was getting ready to go onstage, looking great in a red, white and blue tie-dye.  I snapped a photo.  Bob was there too, mixing it up with some fans.  I heard Michael behind me saying, "Just say hello!"

It was all too much.  My head was swimming.  My insides were emulsifying.  My hands were trembling.  Michael brought me to the beer garden and sat me down while he got me something to drink.  I don't remember much about Phil's set either except that Bob sat in.  Luckily I have the magic of the Internet to see what they played that night. (See below for set lists.)

After that, I never again used my connection to the kind Rob Wasserman to go backstage, much to the chagrin of my friends.

How heartbreaking that we lost this mighty talent on June 30.  His kindness and gentle ways were evident even in my short meeting with him, and I know that those who really knew him must be devastated.   Whenever we lose an artist we go to their art to help with the process of mourning, and so I bring you some tracks off of his CD Trios...  a solo piece, a piece with Jerry Garcia and Edie Brickell and a piece with Neil Young and of course, Bob Weir.  The links are at the bottom of this blog.

So as we move back into the present, I am grateful to have one more Dead & Co. show coming up, at Fenway Park... I'm pretty excited about that, I have to say.  I get to finally go to that great stadium without having to see the Red Sox- plus I will have a blast with all my New England Deadhead friends.

Just dust off those rusty strings one more time boys...

Eventually I'd get to speak to Bobby, but that's another story!

Songs off of the Trios Album- I attached some cool photos to the songs as a bonus.  Isn't technology amazing?

(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction - Rob Wasserman
Zillionaire - Rob Wasserman, Jerry Garcia, Edie Brickell
Easy Answers - Rob Wasserman, Bob Weir, Neil Young









Ratdog's Set that Night:

Blackbird, Me and My Uncle, Friend of the Devil, Bury Me Standing > Good Morning Little Schoolgirl > Playin in the Band > Uncle John's Band > October Queen > The Deep End > Even So > He's Gone > The Other One > Bass/Drums > Samson and Delilah, Lady with a Fan > Terrapin > Uncle John's Band

(from ratdog.org)

Phil's Set that Night: 

Set 1: Jam > Shakedown> Wheel Jam, *Music Never Stopped> *Good Lovin', Low Spark> Tenessee Jed, Tons Of Steel Set 2: Viola> Mars Jam> Viola> Mountain Jam> Dupree's, Night Of 1000 Stars> Space Jam> Lucy In The Sky> Mason's Children, The Wheel> Other One Chorus> Wheel Reprise> Sugaree E: Casey Jones *with Bob Weir Ratdog Opened )

from philzone.com

Here we are, sitting in the fenced off beer garden, a garbage bag and two very early photo bombers in the background. 

Hashtag GD 50

Did you hear that?

Yes, it's a collective sigh of relief.  Deadheads woke up on Monday, July 6 and the world seemed to still be turning on its axis even though presumably we said "fare thee well" to the boys the night before in a dramatic swan-song stroll down memory lane which was either seven months or 50 years in the making.

This guitar was later auctioned off to benefit the Rex Foundation.

Even so, still today, over two weeks later people are still posting a few more pictures on Instagram. Still tweeting out a few more clever song lyrics will make us all "favorite" it and retweet it to our own favorite Deadheads.  Facebook is still going strong with people's videos, and newspaper articles, bios, set lists, and a few late concert reviews.  Everyday is hashtag throw back whatever... and I have a feeling we haven't seen the end of it.  Being a Deadhead has become so mainstream, even the police cars in the San Francisco Bay Area have little stealies on them.

Yes, pretty mainstream, I'd say.

How were the shows?

This is not a review of the concerts, you can get that anywhere. I thought that all five were great.  The saga of my getting, or more precisely, not getting tickets aside*, the California scene was great, and I wish I could have enjoyed the Chicago scene as well, but it was not in the cards for me. If they had played another weekend in New York (or NJ) I believe they could have sold that out too. But frankly I'm not sure I could have handled the drama.  I read in one of the reviews that for many Deadheads, these will be their last stadium shows.  That is certainly true for me**.  The profound number of people was just staggering. All those humans!  Spending that much on parking, food, and beverages. $13 for undrinkable beer!!! Eternal lines at the concession stands and bathrooms.  My son said "Mom, stadium shows are a young man's game," as he left me in section 413 and deftly made his way almost to the floor for the entirety of Sunday's Santa Clara show.  So, it is "Fare Thee Well" to one thing... and that is humongous stadium shows and me ever touching a Bud Lite again!

  

But getting back to the shows themselves... I loved them all.   They were interesting... they were eclectic...mistakes were made and corrected... they were perfect in their imperfection.  The first show in California featured obscure rarities that only true Deadheads would grok.   July 3rds show in Chicago was all original Grateful Dead songs (no covers).  Only two repeats in the entire five nights (Cumberland Blues and Truckin')!!  The set lists were artfully created and flowed together***.  The drum solos boomed and shook like old times.  Fireworks lit up the sky and even the Empire State Building joined the fun.   We sang along and we laughed and cried.  We missed Jerry and yet we felt him there.  We hugged our friends and we really did stop strangers just to shake their hands.  Maybe we hugged them too.

And what about Jerry?

Unbelievably, Jerry has been gone 20 years next month, and it's obvious that the music hasn't stopped and never will. To those who continue to say things like, "well he doesn't play it like Jerry," or "he just doesn't sound like Jerry," I say once and for all THAT'S RIGHT! And no one ever will.  If you want to hear Jerry, play one of the thousands of hours of unbelievable musical gifts he left us.  If you want to hear some guys who come pretty close to playing and sounding just like Jerry, check out John Kadlecik or Jeff Mattson.  But it's really time to quit whining.  Nothing's gonna bring him back.

An impromptu tribute to the man we were missing.
Sunday's show included a moment of silence, and they showed photos of all those members of the band and crew who had died.  It was very touching.

And what about Trey?
From the first announcements until the last bow, that grinning ginger has been in the Deadhead limelight.   Any writer who had the audacity to call him "the new Jerry" or say he "took Jerry's place" is a piker who didn't do his homework. But Trey's guitar playing was top notch, and his voice is his own.  And did he look like he was having fun or what???  I still will not become a Phish fan anytime soon, but I was happy with the sound, the vibe and the energy that I saw and heard onstage.

I found this on Instagram and it cracked me up!

Peter Shapiro: God or Grinch
Peter Shapiro, the impresario of  my favorite local music venue, The Capitol Theatre, and it's super cool little brother, Garcia's, has become the modern day Bill Graham.  A Deadhead who made this happen and tried to do the right thing along the way.   A lot of people don't like him, and I've read some downright ugly things about him, but hey, he pulled off the whole shindig, and has been bringing us amazing shows.  And like him or don't, but the truth is it's never okay to slander someone, or use the anti-Semitic language I have read when referring to him or to anyone.  I can't consider people who hide behind names like Kosmyk Charl-E and spew hate the true Deadheads. 


So now what?

Is the music really going to stop now? Don't be silly. As of this moment I have tickets in hand (well, not in hand, or how would I be typing?) to see Phil Lesh, Bob Weir, and Billy Kreutzmann, all before the end of the year!  Does that sound like #faretheewell???  It's news to basically NO ONE that Bob Weir is planning a tour with John Mayer, Mickey and Billy.  There's a renewed interest in the Grateful Dead that we haven't seen in years.  (I'm not even sure I like it, to be honest!)  There are rumors of another GD tour! (Again, see **)  In the meantime if you are in the mood for some good old Grateful Dead music and you want it live and local, check out this website http://gratefuldeadtributebands.com/.  You can support local talent and get nice and close to the stage too!

My relationship with the Grateful Dead has had a lot of ups and downs over the last seven months. I'm ready to ease back in to my comfortable routine of normal obsession now and focus on the rest of my life with balance and clarity.  The music of the Grateful Dead will continue to move and inspire me, and I will continue to pay ridiculous prices to see "the Core Four" play as long as they continue to play, either apart, or, if we are so lucky, together.  


I'll leave you with this gorgeous gem.  You may have seen it already, but enjoy it again.  Ripple video - Playing for Change

My son and me, right after we found our seats in Levi's stadium, about an hour pre-show.

Our mini-tailgate in one of the massive lots in Santa Clara.

*You can read about that in this blog.
**Unless they "surprise us" and announce more shows... check out this article!
*** Okay, so you know what? I bet  we all have our personal comments about the set lists.  I myself may have said "It's too soon for Standing on the Moon.  And BOB should be singing it!" But let's keep it positive, eh folks?

Fare Thee Well - I Love You More than Words Can Tell

Please click here to get some music going

Let me just start by saying this will be about the Grateful Dead, a band that I, and many others, have been slightly obsessing about. 

And no, not since they made the big Chicago concert announcement in mid-January of 2015... but since whenever it might have been that we were taken gently by hand and helped up on the bus.

Let me continue by saying I will not be ranting about... um... anything.  Not the lineup for the 4th of July shows.  (Go to any Facebook group if you want that.)  Not prices of tickets or the fact that it is IN Chicago itself, or the fact that it's going to cost an arm and a leg to go, get a room, and somehow get tickets for all three nights.  Because they can charge whatever they want and have this thing whereEVER they want and I know I won't miss it.

So what is it?  What's so compelling about the Grateful Dead that we drop everything, go out on school nights, stay in crappy hotels, drive across the country, deplete our bank accounts, and absorb social media like high school sophomores?  Why am I still writing down every song that Phil plays (albeit on my iPhone now) when I know that in less time than it will take me to get home from the Capitol Theatre, it will be posted on at least 2 sites on Facebook, not to mention the great website, Deadheadland.com.   Why do my girlfriend and I giggle like tweens when we spot Bob Weir's bus pull in to the parking lot of the venue he's about to play?  Let's take a little walk down my personal memory lane and see what we can figure out about the greatest band in the land.

Well, would you look at that... Bob Weir's Tour Bus... and isn't that John K. right there?
Yes, yes it is.  We waited for over an hour, but Bobby was taking a well deserved nap in the back, and we never saw him
emerge from the bus.  Asbury Park, NJ   Summer 2014

When I first heard the Grateful Dead, I was in the freshman dorm room of a few friends (one of whom would become my husband) and their goal was to turn me on to the music.  Wisely they chose American Beauty.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  I had heard of the Dead, but I only knew Truckin' and I thought the music belonged only to the stoners who cut classes in high school.  I was all about the Beatles, and the Beach Boys and Billy Joel.  Music you could sing along to!  I loved to go to concerts and had seen quite a few already by age 17.   But here was American Beauty, with it's rich textures and it's harmonies.  And yes, songs you could sing, if no one else was around to shush you. Bring on Workingman's Dead, please.  

Workingman's Dead.  So great.  Kids these days don't listen to albums, they listen to songs.  Actually I do too.  But these early albums are so rich and delicious.
(Later, my mind was to be completely blown by Mars Hotel.  BOOM.  But this blog would go on forever if we started talking about every album and every concert...)

I started buying records like crazy, but my boyfriend assured me that the records were nothing compared to a live show.  I didn't quite get that from the few poor 12th generation audience cassette tapes he had, but I was game to go to a concert, and in September of 1978, we got tickets for my first Grateful Dead concert. Interestingly, I'm the one who got the tickets, for Giants Stadium in NJ, even though we were back at school already, in Boston. (And I'm still the one who gets the tickets, all these years later!)  I'll never forget that night, my boyfriend's cute older brother, and his adorable friend drove down from Maine and picked us up at college.  I felt like the belle of the ball, in my chariot, off on an adventure.   They drove through the night, as we slept in the back seat.  We got to NJ, and I directed us to a diner for breakfast.   In retelling the story recently, someone reminded me that we ran into friends of my parents, who did not know we were coming to town.   The concert was not the OMG experience that I was hoping for, although I did love the people and I remember my boyfriend  bought me a rose from a vendor who was passing through the stadium seats.  I was hooked after that.  

So many concerts since that time.  Hundreds. More probably.  Memorable shows.  Musical elipses where I was transfixed.  Transformed.  Taken to another place altogether.  Elevated spiritually and emotionally.  Songs where the words meant so much that tears came to my eyes, or the music was so strong that I had to move away from my seat to dance in an open space.  Magical moments where words I have heard a thousand times before take on new meanings and become entirely relevant to what I had been going through. 

Then: Cal Expo May 3, 1986

And now(ish): Nateva Festival, Oxford Maine, Summer 2010

And then there is the community.  I may as well say that I do not quite "fit" into every community out there in the world.  But finding the Grateful Dead and the community of their fans was like coming home.  When we meet one another out there in the world, and learn that we love the Dead, it's like we are members of a club and we all know the rules.  I admit that sometimes people forget them, or break them. That's disappointing. But mostly I have found a generous, kind, non-judgmental, open-minded, community in the Grateful Dead fan community and that works for me.  People who don't push in line, and will sell their extra ticket for face value (or less).  People who will hug you the first time they meet you, or buy you a water BEFORE they meet you because you are behind them on the concession line and you picked up and returned the dollar they dropped.   

Will Chicago be the real end of a story that had its beginning in 1965?  Who knows.  It will be the end of something for sure, probably stadium shows for the Dead, and for me.  I do believe the kind souls who go by the name of Deadheads will figure out a way to get themselves there.  Hopefully we will get tickets through mail-order, or through the online sales, and not have to pay inflated prices.  (If I have to pay higher prices than the ticket price you might wind up reading a different type of blog soon!)

But I do know that I am going to go, and bring love and light with me.  I will surround myself with the people I love and listen to the music I love.   I'll think about Jerry Garcia, and miss him, as I do all the time, and I will love and appreciate Bob Weir, Phil Lesh, Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann, the "Core Four," as I have for the past 38 years.  I'll love whatever they decide to play, and rejoice in the people they've chosen to play with: Jeff Chimenti, Trey Anastasio and Bruce Hornsby.

"Just dust those dusty strings off one more time..."

Another one from the Cal Expo, May 4, 1986

Yes, this happened. How could I not include it. Dec. 5, 2013

Okay, this show gets my vote for the all time best concert ever. Thanks to DD for finding this. 

Can this really be the end??

Furthur reading on this topic (just click on the links): 
Grateful Seconds  
Grateful Dead For Dummies / Endless Jams
http://www.gratefuldeadguitars.com/

Or try putting Grateful Dead into the search bar for some of my other blog posts about the Grateful Dead. 


And one last thing... who should have been included, in my humble opinion?

Update : I wrote this one week ago.  I mailed in for my tickets on the mail-in date, and now check my mailbox like a crack addict (I guess) because people have started to get what I refer to as the "pink slip," a polite rejection letter from GDTSTOO saying how high the demand is for tickets. For the record, this is the back of my envelope, on top of the album I was drawing on.  For you younger folks, that's a record album, the way we used to listen to music before computers let you magically hear it by just wishing it to play. 

Update March 7, 2015:  It's now been over a month, and I have not received my money orders back, nor have I received what I've come to call "the golden email," that email that so many people received from Grateful Dead Ticket Sales Too saying that their ticket request would be filled. I tried to buy tickets online, and struck out.  So I'm sitting here in limbo.  My confidence that I'd see my fellow fans at the show is starting to waver.  And quite truthfully I feel as thought I've been on a roller coaster ride.  Not a new fun one, but an old one that's uncomfortable (think: Coney Island Cyclone) where the highs are kind of fun, but the twists and turns hurt really bad, and to make matters worse, your best friends, who have always brought you comfort, since 1977, are nowhere to be seen, and the cause of the pain. I have finally reached stepped off the coaster.  I had to.  If I go, I will have a great time, I know.  And if I don't go, I will have a kick-ass party in my back yard, like I sometimes do on July 4 weekend.  I won't go sit in a movie theater and watch what I'm missing.  I won't check my phone every 5 minutes for the Facebook messages and Tweets to see what "final songs" I'm not hearing.  I'll crank that beloved Lewiston show (September 1980) for my guests and try not to sour-grapes it too much. 

You know what they say... If the thunder don't get ya...

Update April 6, 2015:  I received my money order back about 2 weeks ago.  It was too depressing for words.  So I didn't write any.  But it may just be that I will get to go to one of the shows in Chicago.  We shall see.  I have not given up yet.

This hangs in my hallway. The ad from the paper and my rejection letter. 

Final Update:

I didn't make it to Chicago after all. But I got tickets from a good friend and went to the two shows in California. I had a fantastic time. I watched all three Chicago shows on Pay Per View, enjoying the last one at the Capitol Theatre in Port Chester, NY with a room full of Deadheads.  

Me: Wow, so many young people are really enjoying this simulcast, don't you think? 

My son: Yea, mom. That's because everyone your age made it to Chicago.

8/28/17 - I have disabled comments on this post.  For some reason I receive about 20 spam comments A DAY - clogging up my inbox - just to this blog post.  I don't know why.  If you have a real comment, then you are a real human and you will figure out how to get it to me some other way. 

In other news, I just saw Bob and Phil play together at Lockin' via a live stream (thank you Pete Shapiro, YouTube and Lockin' Fest) and it was fantastic. 

Strangers Stopping Strangers

For most people, it was a typical Wednesday night commute.  Not for me, since I don't live or work in New York City.  I was on the train, heading in to go to a concert, to see my favorite bass player*, Phil Lesh, in  a concert in Central Park.  So while most people were just thinking about getting home, I was excited to meet my brother and friends for a fun night under the stars, listening to my favorite music.  I knew the band Phil (we all call him Phil, with love and reverence) had put together would be stellar, and historically, New York City seemed to bring the best out of him.

The ride from my town to Secaucus was uneventful.  I texted with the people I was going to meet, and did a crossword puzzle.  At Secaucus I had to change trains for New York's Penn Station.  This is a 16 minute trip that delivers you right underneath Madison Square Garden.  It's the best if your concert is right there, but still pretty handy to get anywhere else, because it's a subway hub.  (Not that I have the slightest idea which subway lines go where, but luckily, my brother does.)

It was on that 16-minute ride that something somewhat extraordinary happened.

I found a seat right away, and gave the guy already sitting in the other seat the "mind if I sit here?" look.  He moved his stuff away, but apparently he did mind. He was wearing khakis, and a short-sleeve plaid shirt, and now put his brief case on his lap to make room for me.  He gave me a sort of put-off quasi-disgusted look, as if I just ruined his day.  (Yes, I had showered that day, and NO I was not wearing patchouli oil.) I sat down, putting my bag with the concert supplies on the floor, and my pocketbook on my lap.  He took his phone out and was furiously texting or emailing. 

As the train started to go, we sat like that, in silence, ignoring each other. I was lost in thought.  He was typing away on his phone.  

About 6 minutes into the ride the door between the cars opened, and a man came stumbling into our car. He seemed to be an older guy, pants drooping down, three or four shirts sloppily layered on, with a torn jacket over all of them. As I was on the aisle, I could smell him as he walked by, an unpleasant smell of urine and something else... beer maybe?  His hand was out, and I remember his hands most of all. Gnarled knuckles, and fingernails that were too long.  They looked like old man's hands. I saw two different sleeves, frayed and torn. 

And he was shouting this up and down our car,  "I need two-fifty for the 3 train uptown. I need two-fifty for the 3 train uptown. Who's gonna give me my two-fifty for the 3 train uptown?"

Everyone looked down.  Or out the window.  Or at their iPhones, which don't work under the Hudson River. But I didn't look away. I looked at this guy.  Wandering on a train asking for $2.50. 

And I did what I always do.

I took out my wallet.  And if the story ended there, I would not be writing about it.

But as I was getting money out for this man in need, Mr. Plaid Shirt was taking out his wallet, and saying to me, "I'll split the difference with you."  

I just looked at him, and started to smile.  

He continued, "If you will give it to him."

I took the dollar from Mr. Plaid Shirt and took a dollar from my wallet, and stood up and yelled, "Excuse me, sir?" and the man stumbled back to where we were sitting and took the money.  He had almost left the car when he remembered to mumble, "Gah bleh you" before the door slammed shut.

Plaidman was a different person now. He smiled at me and said, "I was making all kinds of excuses in my head about why I couldn't give him the money.  I can't reach my wallet.  We're almost at Penn Station. What if it's not safe to give it him?  What if he just spends it on drugs?  Then I saw how easy it was for you to do it and I realized I could do it too. Thank you."

"Yea," I said, "It's not up to us to decide what he might spend it on, it's sad enough he's at the point where he needs to beg. I give it to him and remember to be grateful that I can."

My new friend smiled and admitted that he always wants to give, but he just walks past "those people."

Remembering the countless stories I'd heard from people who had found themselves homeless, I said, "If, God forbid, I am ever down and out, I hope my acts of kindness will come back to me.  Maybe your act today will start a chain of good deeds."

"I was thinking that maybe by helping that guy, I just prevented something really bad from happening to me," he replies.

"Oh, I never thought of that.  So if you go and have a fantastic day, you'll know you got your reward?"

"Something like that!" he says, and he is smiling now.

"I picture you walking around the city, just barely missing pianos and anvils falling on your head!  You could write a children's book about that!" I say, now really enjoying the idea of doing a mitzvah and protecting yourself from harm.

"I think that's for other people to do."

We are almost at Penn Station.  We are both standing up near the door.  I wonder if he will be empowered to give to the next person in need.  He is certainly a different person than the one I sat next to 14 1/2 minutes ago.

We say good-bye.  He goes off to his life, protected, I hope by his act of kindness.  I go off to mine, already in progress.

As a reward for my act of kindness, Phil plays a song just for me.  I hold it close as the music and words pour into my soul and fill me with joy. 

And for a little while, all is right with the world.

Photo credit: Jack Baribault

Pictured: Jack, Peter White, me, and my brother Geoffrey's back. I forget why we are showing the number one. Maybe someone can enlighten me. 



*Phil Lesh is my favorite bass player, except for my cousin, Rick Cantor.

Lets finish off that Peach

The Peach Festival.  Chapters 1 - 7 can be found by scrolling back, or up, or whatever...  I felt that the blog was getting too long.  Here we have the final few chapters, thoughts, musings, photos and ramblings about my time at the Peach Festival...August 15 - 18, 2013 at Montage Mountain near Scranton, PA.  If you are a linear type person, and A type personality, or have been following along, that post comes before this one. Otherwise it doesn't much matter.

It's been exactly a week since I found myself immersed in a 4-day music festival featuring bands I know and love.  I could have stayed longer... the weather was perfect, the site was great, the company delightful.  I was in my element.  But all good things (and luckily bad things too) must come to an end, so I have decided to write about it and share my perspective on it... or some of it at least.  It's as much for me, to come back to it and read it and remember it, as it is for you out there in blog-land.

DEAD-ERCISE
Just a note about this... If you want to lose a few pounds, I recommend a four-day weekend of seeing music on  lovely mountainside spot.  With all the walking and dancing and the terrible and expensive food, this could really be a great weight-loss program for Deadheads.  Think about it.  I suppose you'd have to cut out the beer to really make all that calorie burning pay off, but I'll tell you with the water park and all that shlepping, it was quite the workout each day. 

Well, at least this guy is sleeping with his dog.

CONCERT ETIQUETTE
Okay, I don't want to get preachy or judgy here... but obviously just by saying that it's clear I'm about to do both.  
PETS:  Don't bring them.  If you can figure out how to come to a show like this, then you can figure out what to do with your dog.  (Or cat, tho I've never seen a cat in someone's car.)  There's no way this is ever okay for your dog, living in your car while you are at the show, then being walked in the hot parking lot, and then getting back in the car.  
KIDS:  Yea, I brought my kids to a concert here and there when they were growing up.  But not a 4-day festival.  Kids need their routine, their food, their beds, toys, structure.  But okay.  If you do bring your kids... take care of them.  Nothing ruins my great mood more than this sentence, "She's lost her kid, someone help her."

What can I say.  I love my kids more than I love the music.  Maybe that's why my first festival was after my youngest son went to college.

Okay, I'm off my high horse.  I won't even mention bathroom etiquette, talking during songs, or cigarettes... 

Let's talk about why we even GO to the festival in the first place....

THE MUSIC and trying not to be OCD* about it.

Bobby

I love the music I love... well who doesn't?  I love being right up front, getting swept away by exciting new music. I like it really loud. I like the music to take me to new heights.  I like to hear a singer sing a phrase I've heard all my life and letting me hear it like I've never heard it before.  I get very excited watching two guitar players trade off the lead in a song seamlessly.  Three guitar players? Even better.  Love watching a jam among players who know each other so well that they intuit where they're going and miraculously a new song unfolds from what sounded like chaos a moment ago.  Delicious harmonies bringing new understanding to a song I thought I totally knew... but now wait a sec... what are they doing here... singing it in a minor key??? WHAT??? And I feel tears in my eyes that I don't even understand.  

I know people can relate to this, even if you don't like the same music I like.  The problem is at a festival like the Peach, there are bands playing at all times on three stages.  Starting at about 1:00 in the afternoon.  And those stages aren't near each other.  So that's a lot of running back and forth (HEY! They're the guys from moe. Come on!) 

or it's a moment of clarity where I say to myself...

"Juliet... you spend your life running around getting from place to place.  The people with you don't care that much.  They would be happy to just hang out.  Slow down and relax."

So I did exactly that.  I didn't go see Cabinet a second time, or run from stage to stage, or clamber to the front for Government Mule.  And it was all okay.  I had a great time hanging out with my friends Iris and Rob, and my husband Michael, on the lawn. I took pictures, created some jewelry, and even sold one of my bracelets (for $10 and a Rice Krispies Treat).   Later we packed up and moved up nice and close and I got back to my slight obsession with the music.

Pretty fancy display...

I realized that this festival was not just about the music, though the music was fantastic. It was about riding a ski lift to the top of the mountain just to ride it back down and take pictures and have a few laughs. It was about sleeping late. It was about relaxing with my husband and my friends.  It was about having a beer in the parking lot and letting things go one last time before my work becomes so intense that I might forget how to do this for a while.   

So, now what?  I found out Cabinet was playing tonight right nearby... But it was my mom's birthday so we all went out to dinner to celebrate.   I'll be scouring the paper, the internet and my email to see when the next music fix will be. While I'm writing this I've been listening to Ratdog's set from Friday night at the Peach.  And I've uploaded all my photos so I can attach a link to this blog in case the ones I've included here aren't enough.   As I conclude this lengthy blog I know that it means it's time to go back to reality.

Except Bobby just started playing Loose Lucy...

So, reality?  Maybe tomorrow.

Thank you.  For a real good time.

This is the link to my Picasa photo album if you want to see more.
I think.

https://plus.google.com/photos/101888049983386479881/albums/5914968144397249537?banner=pwa


*OCD : meaning: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, meaning... needing to hear all the music and not miss a note, at the expense of socializing with friend and relaxing in the sun.