I was lucky enough to fall into the rave scene for a while, a pretty good substitute. Community is what I looked for after Jerry died. I always felt community was what drew people so powerfully to the Grateful Dead experience, an intimacy missing from our lives. My house was the center of that little node. I live in San Francisco, so people came to my place to visit and see the Dead, and maybe get a souvenir of the City. It was the pain of ruptured community which drove me off the bus. It was the community who took care of Tom, our larger community of trust which allowed that woman to be naked in a crowd of strangers and to touch me without fear it was most certainly a functioning community in the tent city at HJK, or it never could have cohered and survived. The moment in the parking lot in December of ’94 when I’d seen too much nastiness and not enough fun, and got off the bus.Īll of these stories are linked in some way by the concept of community. Smuggling in a reel to reel tape deck after removing the motor from a wheelchair and casting the taper in plaster and bandages. We smiled at each other, let go hands, and she walked away into the crowd.ġ50 Deadheads camping out for a week in the park across the street from Henry J Kaiser. She was lovely, but I was preoccupied with the music and also kind of shy. When I opened my eyes, I saw that the person whose arm was still intertwined with mine was not of our group, but she was completely naked, and very relaxed about it. I squeezed back, assuming it was one of our group saying hello - speaking was discouraged while the band was playing. 15 minutes later a madman was jumping on my back, screaming in gratitude - someone had overheard Tom’s story to me, and after I left, wordlessly handed him a free ticket.ĭancing at Winterland, watching the dark stars form and dissolve behind my eyelids, an arm slipped into mine and gave my hand a squeeze. He shooed me away and I got back in line. I kept telling them that it was okay, man, but we both knew better. He hugged me back, turned, buried his face in my shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably. Tom sitting on the steps of the Oakland Arena in tears, his New Year’s Eve ticket counterfeit and confiscated at the gate. So many images, thoughts, and feelings from 25 years of Grateful Dead concerts.
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