I used to have this bumpersticker, way back when, that said this, and for some reason I've decided that I want to get another one. I can't find one anywhere, though. I've been googling for days now with no luck; I can't even find the design anywhere. So, I went into my old photos (man, I used to be so thin) because I knew I had a pic of hubs sitting on the back of my old Honda, and here we are!
This was taken in March of 1993. That's hubs, sitting on the back of my car, in the parking lot of my old house in Santa Barbara. That white arrow points to the sticker I'm talking about.
Does anybody know this design? I want another one and I can't find it anywhere. Can you help? Spread the word? Ask your old hippie friends? HELP!
(Look at hubs, though! RAWWRRRRR!!!!!)
While I was looking through old pics, I found this one of me that I thought you guys might enjoy:
This is Halloween 1991 at the Oakland Coliseum. I'm dressed as Jerry Garcia, by the way, since most of you probably won't know that. There's a pillow stuffed under my shirt there. Seriously, I used to be really thin. *sigh*
22 years ago tonight, I went to my first Grateful Dead show. So, I thought I'd tell the story. Why not, right? I KNOW! Too bad it's not very interesting. Maybe you can tell your own story in the comments?
So, I had this boyfriend in college... blah blah blah.... I actually thought I was going up to just visit him in the Bay Area; I was living in Santa Barbara at the time. But, since I had never been to a show before, I didn't know what I was really in for. So, he brought me to the Oakland Coliseum on December 30, 1989. He had a ticket, and of course I didn't, except I'm pretty sure I got miracled that night (meaning, somebody gave me a ticket for free) but, maybe not, because NYE shows are impossible to get tickets for, so who would have miracled me? I don't know, it was a long time ago. Anyway, I made it inside.
My purpose for the evening, however, wasn't to go to a show, because I had no idea what that even meant. All I knew of the Grateful Dead was Touch of Grey, which was okay, I guess, but a little poppy (poppie?). My purpose, on that day, was to find and take some Ecstasy... which I very much succeeded at doing. YAY! So, we went inside, and found ourselves a seat up in the bleachers or something, I don't know, and all I remember was looking at this giant crowd of people and saying "oooohhhh myyyy goooodddddd...... look at all the peeeooppllllleeeee" and being just so impressed at the size of the crowd. I'm pretty sure my boyfriendatthetime wasn't as impressed as I was. Okay, he had been there before. Whatever. It was new to me; and awesome. So awesome. I didn't even know the music, but the music was so awesome. SO AWESOME. It was only until I tried it again at the next set of shows that I realized it wasn't just the drugs that was making it awesome; it was just awesome.
Here's the setlist. Most of you won't care. Some of you will care a smidge:
Oakland Coliseum, Oakland CA (12/30/89)
Bertha
Good Lovin'
Sugaree
Walkin' Blues
Jack-a-Roe
Masterpiece
West L.A. Fadeaway
Music Never Stopped
Jack Straw
China Cat Sunflower
I Know You Rider
Estimated Prophet
Terrapin Station
drums
I Will Take You Home
The Other One
Standing on the Moon
One More Saturday Night
Damn, he seems pretty fucked up. Did you know that he died, 3 months after this interview was made, in his sleep, in a detox facility? He was a heroin user; he smoked it.
This is the exact same thing I posted last year on this date; I only changed it from 15 to 16 years (and I changed the first song from Ripple to New Speedway Boogie). I figure I probably can't do any better than I did the first time, so every year I will just copy and paste.
16 years ago today, August 9, 1995, is the day that Jerry Garcia died. I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I found out: I was working at a Counseling center in Santa Barbara, I was answering phones, among other things. I answered the phone that morning and it was my mom calling. She said "did you hear?" and I, at the time, was working and busy and didn't really have time for what I thought would be gossip (sorry Mom) and I said, impatiently, "hear what?" And I don't remember her exact words but I remember my reaction, which was to say "what?" The room I was in was filled with people, my boss, the Executive Director of the place, and a few of the counselors, and I guess the tone of my voice when I said "what" was enough to make everybody stop what they were doing and look at me with concern (it was a counseling center, after all). I remember my boss, Patricia, put her hand on my shoulder, because she knew something was up. I don't remember the rest of my phone call but I remember hanging up, explaining the deal to the folks in the room, and then trying to make it through the rest of my day in this dull kind of fog. I don't think I lasted more than an hour when she sent me home. At the time I was a member of a Grateful Dead online forum on AOL (probably the first of its kind) and I spent the rest of the day talking to people all over the world about it.
Now, you might think it unusual that the death of a musician would have such an impact, I've considered before trying to blog about how weird I thought it was that somebody I'd never met and never would meet could influence my life so much, but I was never really able to put it into words. I still don't think I can, but I'll certainly try. Hey, that's what blogging is for, right?
It's hard to explain, really, what it was like being a deadhead. You might think it was about the drugs, but for me, it wasn't. Sure, I tried one of everything, but I never actually found one that I liked enough to keep doing, so, no, it wasn't about the drugs. Was it about the music? Well, hell yeah, it was about the music, I mean come ON!
For me, though, it was more than that, it was about the community. The parking lot scene before the show started, the wait on the floor once we were inside, set break, the parking lot scene afterward, and all the general milling about in whatever town we were in, usually Oakland. Because it wasn't just one show we would go to, it was a weekend event; 3 shows in a row, if we're lucky, and then off to Sacramento or Mountain View for some more, if we were lucky. And driving up the 101 on our way to a show became a completely different experience from the usual driving on the freeway. Other cars with dead stickers contained friends we just hadn't met yet; we waved to each other because we knew where we were headed. I'll never forget something somebody said to me once: I had asked him "where are your friends?" and his response, "everybody here is my friend. Do you mean the people I came with?" And it was true, everybody there was your friend, even if you hadn't met them yet.
I had a hard time in high school; I was always fat, and I was really sarcastic, and people didn't always get that so they just thought I was a bitch. It was tough, trying to figure out who to be so that people would like me. (Man am I glad I'm older and just don't give a shit anymore!). One night, before I had ever been to a show, I was taking a walk with my brother and he asked me if I had ever been; I said no. He said I really should go because "a Grateful Dead show is the only place in the world where you can do and be whatever you want and nobody will judge you or care." I said, "the Renaissance Faire is kind of like that." He said "yeah, but can you do this at a Renaissance Faire?" and proceeds to start wiggling him arms and legs all over the place and yelling "WOOOOOOOOOOO." He was a wise man, that brother of mine, and if you knew him you can just imagine the crazy kind of dance he was doing. I was lucky and I eventually got to go to a few shows with him.
He was right, though; it WAS the only place in the world where you were free to be whomever you were. There was no trying to figure out who to be so you could fit in, because you would fit in no matter who you were. The stranger sitting next to you was your best friend for the 2+ hours that you were inside that show; the stranger who sold you your veggie burrito after the show was your best friend for as long as you stood there talking. There was nothing confusing about it, it was all just acceptance and love. And it wasn't about the drugs you were on, despite popular opinion, because I didn't take drugs.
And then the shows were over and we would go back to our lives as students or receptionists or music store clerks or whatever it was that we did, and we waited for the next shows so we could do it all again (and called that 1 800 number because there was no internet yet; does anybody remember that?) But then one day we found out there there would be no "next time," because Jerry was dead, and it was all over.
It seems odd that a community can live and die with one person, it kind of sounds like a cult. But when Jerry died, the Dead stopped touring and we had no place to gather. There were other bands, but it wasn't the same. For so long whenever I heard those first 4 notes of Touch of Grey on the radio (because that was the only song that ever got any radio time in Santa Barbara) I had to turn it off, I just couldn't listen to it. I went about a YEAR without listening to Eyes of the World because it was just too painful. I mourned for a long time, I still mourn, but eventually I found a community of my own, with my family.
So, that's my story, that's how a musician I never met or ever would meet had such an impact on my life. I don't know if I've done justice to his memory with this description of my experience, but, hey, I tried
Here are those two songs I referenced above, in case you've never heard them....
Touch of Grey, Bill Graham Memorial Concert, 11/3/91. I was at this show.
Eyes of the World. I went with the studio version.
Jerry Garcia would have been 69 years old today! We miss you, Captain!!
I took this video from the Grateful Dead's Facebook page. It's worth watching at least until 4:32 just so you can see the priceless look that Jerry gives Bobby when he says he's absolutely never stoned on stage.
They've never been here, though; at least, I've never known they were coming before they actually got here. Grrrrrrr. I've fanned their Facebook page and have been bitterly watching as all these status updates go by, announcing tour dates for everywhere except near where I live. It's been rather frustrating.
I knew it would happen eventually, though, so I waited. Impatiently. And then.... on March 28th.... I went to Facebook... and there it was....
Am.... am I dreaming? Mark Zuckerberg wouldn't try to cheat me, would he?
OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OAKLAND OAKLAND OAKLAND OAKLAND OAKLAND.
Actually, that was the comment I left on that very same status update.
The next step was to sign up to their email list, because people on their email list would get a secret code so they can get tickets before they actually went on sale. FUCKING SWEET. So, I did that, and I waited for my email with instructions on how to get my tickets....
.... which arrived 2 days later and told me that tickets would go on sale at 10:00am the next morning.
So the next morning, there I was refreshing and refreshing the page (because I started too early because I'm compulsively punctual) waiting for the ticket sale to start. While I was refreshing and refreshing, I noticed this:
First 30, eh? Front row, eh? REFRESH REFRESH REFRESH REFRESH REFRESH REFRESH REFRESH REFRESH
Was this show General Admission or Reserved Seating? I actually didn't know, but I figured I would find out when it came time to pick out some seats, right? Finally the tickets were on sale and I very quickly made my purchase and my sale was complete before I even realized they hadn't asked me to pick a seat.
My email confirmation arrived at 10:01, and informed me that tickets were general admission and were available only at Will Call. I don't know if I was one of the first 30, but I had bought the damn tickets within the first minute after they went on sale, so the chances are probably pretty good, right? I'll find out a week before the show when they email with instructions on how to get inside early.
The whole thing, from start to finish, from finding out the show date to getting my ticket confirmation, took about 72 hours, and for that, I have only one thing to say.....
Child 2 was able to read this to me. THANKS, TEACHERS, FOR TEACHING HIM TO READ. NO REALLY. THANK YOU.
Now, you whippersnappers out there are probably thinking to yourselves right now "so fucking what? What's the big deal?" My god, do you have to have such a fucked up attitude? I swear.... kids these days. AmIRight????
Well, rugrats, let me tell you about how it used to be. When we had to walk to school 4 miles every day in the snow.... with open toed sandals.... and paper bags for pants.... Let me tell you how it was when I was your age.....
MUSICAL INTERLUDE
END OF MUSICAL INTERLUDE
So, back in the day.... the late 1980's and early 1990's.... I was in college in Santa Barbara and all I was really interested in was going to Grateful Dead shows. I had a car but not a lot of money and even though they played all over the country, I was in school and could only see them when they were in California, which was maybe 6-7 times a year. This was before the internet, of course. Try to imagine a world without the internet. Go ahead. I'll wait.
*whistle*
So, the only way to find out when they were playing next was to call their not toll free 900 number; they had these handy dandy fridge magnets so you wouldn't lose the number. I still have mine:
Duuuuuuude. Is this, like, a collector's item now?
You would just have to keep calling and calling and calling, at 79 cents a minute, to find out when their next show would be. There was never any notice, unless somebody you knew had a friend who knew a friend who once got high with the dude who wore that shirt at that one show and did that thing for Phil, remember that? Man, that was so funny. Was his name Dave? Or I think it was Bob. Or wasn't it something weird, like Sylvester? Anyway, unless you knew Steve, you had no idea when the next shows would be announced, so you just had to keep calling.
So, they would announce these tour dates 3-4 months in advance, and then they would have mail order tickets available before Ticketmaster had them on sale, and there was this major process involved in order to get your mail order tickets. And they were very strict. Unless you followed their instructions to the letter, they would return the whole thing to you and you would have NO tickets. That's would be, like, the worst thing ever. Luckily I'm good at following directions.
First you would need 2 #10 size white envelopes. Then you would need one 3 x 5 index card. These sizes were critical, your paperwork could be no larger and no smaller.
I thought I should put a graphic here to break up the text. This is what an index card looks like, kids!
Then you would need a postal money order.... no cash... no checks..... for the exact amount of the tickets you wanted (you were limited to 4) plus whatever their service charge was. One penny too much or too little? The whole thing comes back to you.
One of the #10 size white envelopes was to be a return envelope to you, should you be lucky enough to get tickets. You had to write your name and address and nothing else. Shit, I can't remember if you needed to put stamps on it or not. You know, I'm sure you did, and more than just a first class stamp, too. Anything more or less than this? NO TIX FOR YOU!
On the 3 x 5 index card you were to put your name, your address, your phone number, the location and date of the show you wanted tickets for, how many you wanted, and how much money you were enclosing. (Do I need to say again you weren't allowed to put anything more or less than that? I think you're getting the point by now).
The whole package: index card, self addressed stamped envelope, money order... went into the other #10 sized envelope, and you had to mail it off to their PO Box in San Rafael (you were allowed to request a return receipt, at least, so you knew it actually got there).
And it was all just random chance, apparently, the way they chose who would get tickets or not. There were some rumors, like if you had a return address in the Bay Area you would have a better chance of getting your tickets. Also, if you decorated the outside of your envelope, which you actually were allowed to do, that would make it stand out in the pile and also give you a better chance of getting tickets. This wasn't necessarily important most of the time, but if it was a popular show, like New Year's Eve shows, we did everything we could to make sure we got those things!!
A sample I found online. Having no artistic ability of my own, I probably just wrote "OH MY GOD PLEASE GIVE ME TICKETS OKAY THANKS" on mine.
And then? You would wait. Check your mail every day. Wait some more. Smoke some pot and check your mail again? Wait some more. I think it took about 6 weeks and if I recall correctly (HA! Not very likely) I got my tickets every time. I think it was just luck, though.
These are the only ones that seemed to have survived the years
So now you see why the 72 hour process of today is so fucking cool? I hope you young people appreciate what you have!! A paper bag for pants is all I had.
By the way, while I was looking through my old crap, I found this picture of me from my senior prom, taken in 1988. I don't look like this anymore:
Nuthin but hair and boobs. And attitude. And alcohol. Okay, those things are still the same.
I had a good friend in college, Brent. I can't remember any Dead show I went to without him in the 6 years I was going to shows. He was a nutjob; always talking, really funny, so much energy. He played guitar very well but couldn't sing to save his life, although that didn't stop him from trying. He did a LOT of drugs. He drank bleach once, just to see what it was like. He said it burned like a motherfucker but that night he had the most vivid dreams he'd ever had. The older he got, the more nutjob-ey he got, because it turned out that he was bipolar, which explained the constant talking. Hubs and I moved to the Bay Area, had some kids and kind of lost touch with him. The last time I saw him he was so heavily medicated he could barely make it through a conversation without falling asleep. Today would have been his 41st birthday; he killed himself about a week after he turned 35. Anyway, today I am sad and thinking about friends that I've had over the years that I've lost, for whatever reason. This song reminds me of one in particular. I probably could have found a better version, but.... meh. I have no words of wisdom except to remind you all to hug your loved ones while you can.
Then you can legally drink now in California. Congratulations!!
On the other hand, 21 years ago tonight, I went to my first Grateful Dead show. So, I thought I'd tell the story. Why not, right? I KNOW! Too bad it's not very interesting. Maybe you can tell your own story in the comments?
So, I had this boyfriend in college... blah blah blah.... I actually thought I was going up to just visit him in the Bay Area; I was living in Santa Barbara at the time. But, since I had never been to a show before, I didn't know what I was really in for. So, he brought me to the Oakland Coliseum on December 30, 1989. He had a ticket, and of course I didn't, except I'm pretty sure I got miracled that night (meaning, somebody gave me a ticket for free) but, maybe not, because NYE shows are impossible to get tickets for, so who would have miracled me? I don't know, it was a long time ago. Anyway, I made it inside.
My purpose for the evening, however, wasn't to go to a show, because I had no idea what that even meant. All I knew of the Grateful Dead was Touch of Grey, which was okay, I guess, but a little poppy (poppie?). My purpose, on that day, was to find and take some Ecstasy... which I very much succeeded at doing. YAY! So, we went inside, and found ourselves a seat up in the bleachers or something, I don't know, and all I remember was looking at this giant crowd of people and saying "oooohhhh myyyy goooodddddd...... look at all the peeeooppllllleeeee" and being just so impressed at the size of the crowd. I'm pretty sure my boyfriendatthetime wasn't as impressed as I was. Okay, he had been there before. Whatever. It was new to me; and awesome. So awesome. I didn't even know the music, but the music was so awesome. SO AWESOME. It was only until I tried it again at the next set of shows that I realized it wasn't just the drugs that was making it awesome; it was just awesome.
Here's the setlist. Most of you won't care. Some of you will care a smidge:
Oakland Coliseum, Oakland CA (12/30/89)
Bertha
Good Lovin'
Sugaree
Walkin' Blues
Jack-a-Roe
Masterpiece
West L.A. Fadeaway
Music Never Stopped
Jack Straw
China Cat Sunflower
I Know You Rider
Estimated Prophet
Terrapin Station
drums
I Will Take You Home
The Other One
Standing on the Moon
One More Saturday Night
