For Deadheads, this time of year is both joyous and heart wrenching.We celebrate Jerry Garcia's birthday (8/1/42) and commemorate his passing (8/9/1995). The way fate would have it and Jerry would have wanted it, the anniversaries have melded together seamlessly over the years and given rise to countless festivals and celebrations across the country. Some are large and some are small, but each one is infused with his giant spirit, drenched in happiness and full of the vibe that we all have adapted to living without over the years since his demise.
This year, to add to the flavor and resonance, we also have the 40th anniversary of man walking on the moon.
Standing on the Moon (lyrics & video below) was one of Jerry's most poignant ballads musically, both for its sparseness and its introspection. When it was first performed live in 1989, the deeply reflective nature of the song forced us all to look hard at a reality we often chose to ignore: that we would lose Jerry someday and that it might be relatively soon.
It became abundantly clear from Standing on the Moon that he himself was looking at things from a “heightened” perspective.
Not that we didn’t always think about what it would be like to lose Jerry. I remember very clearly the first time I had that very thought. It was during the first set of my first live show at the Sportatorium in Hollywood, Florida in 1980.
Here’s the set list from that show:
Alabama Getaway
Greatest Story Ever Told
Friend of the Devil
On the Road Again
Jack-a-Roe
New Minglewood Blues
It Must Have Been the Roses
The Race is On
Althea
Lost Sailor
Saint of Circumstance
Deal
Cold Rain and Snow
Samson and Delilah
China Cat Sunflower
I Know You Rider
Estimated Prophet
Eyes of the World
drums
Wharf Rat
Around and Around
Good Lovin'
Satisfaction (first time played live by the Dead since 1965!)
Greatest Story Ever Told
Friend of the Devil
On the Road Again
Jack-a-Roe
New Minglewood Blues
It Must Have Been the Roses
The Race is On
Althea
Lost Sailor
Saint of Circumstance
Deal
Cold Rain and Snow
Samson and Delilah
China Cat Sunflower
I Know You Rider
Estimated Prophet
Eyes of the World
drums
Wharf Rat
Around and Around
Good Lovin'
Satisfaction (first time played live by the Dead since 1965!)
You may wonder how I could have possibly had time to think about such a morbid possibility in the middle of such a sparkling night in the midst of popping my cherry at my first live show.
Although I had been listening to the band for years already, I didn’t know what I was really missing until I saw that first live show. It was a classic case of Joni’s old retort – “You don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone.”
Not only that, but the band played “It Must Have Been the Roses,” my best friend’s favorite song. We went to show together that night, but were at different places most of the time.
Her middle name was Rose and I knew hearing her song made it a great night for her. She was up in front of Jerry and she said he looked at her more than once during the tune. She had already been to dozens of shows by then. She already thought about the inevitable alot.
From 1980 through 1992, the last time I saw the band live in Greensboro, North Carolina, I saw nearly 500 shows. Sandwiched between those formative years of music, college, travel, life on the road, the generosity of strangers, the deception of friends, motherhood and more, I grew up with the band. And I began to understand something that Jerry was always trying to explain to us through his music at different times and different ways.
That we may never get what we want but we should always sing and dance anyway, because it just makes everything better. That being kind to strangers is much better than being untrusting, though sometimes we will get burned. That living with passion and feeling is the only way to have a real life.
The years went by and my "Deadheadedness" faded into the background. It wasn’t that hard because the crowd got weird and disrespectful. Commercialism crept in. Brent died. Jerry got sick and somehow came back to life more than once, but things were never the same after the late 1980’s.
The day Jerry died and the news spread, old friends came together instantaneously and telepathically. Rose, who I hadn’t spoken to in years, somehow found my number and called me up within an hour. We wept together. The day we had always dreaded had finally arrived and a surge of emotion spilled out. Not just for the loss of Jerry, but for all the years, all the shows, all the dreams – some real, some we knew now would never be realized.
I couldn’t go to the memorial for Jerry in Golden Gate Park because we had a trip planned back east to the Outer Banks. By 1995, I had two kids, a dog, a great man in my life, a beautiful house and had come a long way from the little girl who had taken a hit (or two) of blue window pane one November night long ago in Florida.
But I was longing to be with all my people, all my old friends. In sadness you want to come together. I had to do something.
I printed out a photo of Jerry and taped in to the inside of my car window and headed down to the gas station to fuel up the car for the trip to the airport. I was melancholy and not quite sure what to do with my emotions. Leaving the west coast and heading back to the east, so far from the critical mass of folks who would be coming together in the Bay was too hard to wrap my head around.
As I put the nozzle into the gas tank a young man with wavy brown hair rolled up next to me and smiled. He looked at my car window and nodded and then got out of the car and came over and gave me a big hug.
All the years, all those shows, all the dreams – some real, some we knew now would never be realized.
No words were needed. Just a simple embrace between strangers who knew each other better than most friends. Commiseration coupled with hope.
I said goodbye to Jerry. But none of us have ever really said goodbye.
Standing on the Moon
Lyrics: Robert Hunter
Music: Jerry Garcia
Standing on the moon, I got no cobweb on my shoe
Standing on the moon, I'm feeling so alone and blue
I see the Gulf of Mexico as tiny as a tear
The coast of California must be somewhere over here
Over here
Standing on the moon, I see the battle rage below
Standing on the moon, I see the soldiers come and go
There's a metal flag beside me someone planted long ago
Old glory standing stiffly, crimson, white and indigo
Old glory standing stiffly, crimson, white and indigo
Indigo
I see all of South East Asia; I can see El Salvador
I hear the cries of children and the other songs of war
It's like a mighty melody that rings down from the sky
Standing here upon the moon I watch it all roll by
All roll by
All roll by
All roll by
Standing on the moon, I see a shadow on the sun
Standing on the moon, the stars go fading one by one
I hear a cry of victory, another of defeat
A scrap of age-old lullaby down some forgotten street
Standing on the moon, where talk is cheap and vision true
Standing on the moon, but I would rather be with you
Somewhere in San Francisco on a back porch in July
Just looking up to heaven at this crescent in the sky
In the sky
Standing on the moon with nothing left to do
A lovely view of heaven but I'd rather be with you
A lovely view of heaven but I'd rather be with you
Be with you
I'd rather be with you
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Mark Ira Kaufman
Erica K
Brassawe
scupper
Emily Holleman
Lyn LeJeune
Salon.com
Comments
I got it.
A wonderful tribute to a stellar performer.
It is hard to explain to folks just how important the music and the fellowship of Deadheads mean.
I just wanted to read it again. . . .
Come. . .hear. . .Uncle John's Band. . . .
Thanks for this Beth.
This was a phenomenal tribute Beth. All the deadheads would appreciate the hell out of it.
RATED by a wannabe deadhead
Thanks for this. I just recently discovered your blog (via your excellent Cronkite story) and now you got me tearing up and nostalgic yet again.
I was one of the younger Dead Heads, so I was there through all the commercialism and weirdness you speak of. But I also met some of the greatest folks, and I still remember where I was that fateful day in '95. I was at work when my best friend called to let me know. He'd just graduated high school (I had graduated a year earlier), and our plan was to work for a year, and then the next tour, we were going to quit our jobs and spend some time on the road.
When he called and told me Jerry had passed away, I felt my stomach drop and I had to take the rest of the day off. Bagging groceries just seemed completely pointless.
Years later, working as the entertainment editor for a small midwestern newspaper, I was able to attend more than a few of those "Birthday Bash" celebrations (the ones at Sunshine Daydream Campground in Terra Alta, WV were among the best shows I've ever been to), and it was always nice to see that the vibe of community you mention never completely died out.
My first "serious" girlfriend never got my obsession with live music. In fact, when I got my tickets to my first Phish show, she got upset and refused to go to the show with me, admonishing me that I could have "bought a CD I could have for a lot longer than a day" for a fraction of the price. I should have known then that it wasn't going to work.
Some folks just don't get it. But it was always amazing to be around a large group of folks who did. Its probably what I miss most about being a full time journalist, and the reason I had to settle in a town like Austin when it was time to give it up.