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August 4, 2005

The Days Between

It's been ten years since Jerry Garcia passed away.

Robert Hunter posted this in his online journal at dead.net:

August 3, 2005

Ten years since old Jer kicked the bucket? Seems more like fifty. Nothing about his passing seems like "only yesterday," rather as long ago and far away as my childhood.

From the sublime to the vicious, everything that could be said has been said and said again. Yet, the essential mystery of who Jerry Garcia was remains. What can be said with fair assurance is that he was a source, an original way of seeing the world that agreed with others in a few broad and important outlines, but which in just as many other dimensions confounded all expectations.

I wouldn't say he delighted, in any Whitmanian sense, in what appear to be his contradictions, nor that he had control of them; predictability was not his strong suit. Not even self predictability. He could be alarmingly kind in situations where kindness was the last response to be expected - and altogether gruff where sympathy seemed the more natural response. You could almost say he had weather rather than climate.

Few would disagree that a key part of him remained isolated, unknown and unknowable. His art is the closest thing to an available roadmap of his singularities, amorphous clues, and clues only, to the nature of his true affections. Where he entered, he dominated, generally to his dismay. He knew he was not a leader, more a scout striking out in the wilderness of his intuitions, unwittingly summoning others to tag along through virtue of his magnetic personality and apparently deep sense of inner direction, but basically antipathetic to following or to being followed. Driving back and forth across the bay from Larkspur to San Franscisco on Workingman's Dead recording sessions, our conversations would range wide, or, sometimes, nothing would be said at all. I remember once we got to talking about directions. He professed to having none and inquired as to mine. "For the time being," I said, "I'm just following you following yourself." "Then we're both lost," he muttered.

A persistent image I have of Jerry which seems strangely resonant with his coming and going: a brilliant sunny day on a boat bobbing above the abyss of Molokini where the floor of the ocean suddenly drops off a cliff and plunges to unknown depths, I watch him check his gear then sit on the edge of the boat and tumble over backwards into the water, which is clear to a depth of several hundred feet. I watch him dwindle in size as he descends further and further, spread eagle and motionless, until he is only a speck to the eye, then disappears altogether from view and there is no more Jerry, only ocean.

Got this email from cartoonist Steve Lafler, pointing to a comic about the Dead that he posted on his own blog. The comic is well worth a look.

Dear David,

Been missing your radio show after a move to Portland (after 20 years in Oakland...) but happily figured out how to listen to KPFA archives on my wife's fancy new laptop!

As the tenth anniversary of Jerry's passing is upon us, I felt compelled to post some comics about the big guy on my blog. Take a peek if you get a chance, I guarantee it's funny as well as poignant.

All the best,
Steve Lafler


My friend Teri Dobra sent this to a newspaper in New Jersey that was looking for comments on Jerry. I reproduce it here with her permission:

I never really knew Jerry Garcia, I never got a chance to meet him or to talk to him, but I always fantasized that we would hit it off right away. The band was too obscure to gain much media attention - and we liked that just fine. They were ours and we were theirs. We survived off of each other and that was the understanding between us.

Jerry kept us together through good times and bad. He was able to reach a chord in us. His guitar melodies could get you up and grooving with your neighbors or could soothe you like a lullaby. His emotional interpretations of lyrics could bring you to tears or leave you with "nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile!"

Each show was a journey we went on together, and a celebration that we were able to do it together again. Every song had the ability to speak to us, to teach us, to help us through a difficult time. More often than not, the songs would take on different meanings depending on where we were in our lives. It's the reason we treasure our tapes of past shows. It allows us to relive not only the music but our emotions and always gives us the opportunity to "see" something new.

I've had the most fun at Grateful Dead shows and for that, I'll always be grateful.

We miss you Jerry - it's not the same here without you.

Posted by gans at August 4, 2005 9:50 PM

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