Happy Birthday Jerry

Never knew you, but god i miss you.

Fare you well, fare you well, I love you more than words can tell,
Listen to the river sing sweet songs, to rock my soul.

Image found here: http://www.parasitesandsycophants.com/2010/09/23/jerry-garcia-interview-from-july-1981/

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About skyraftwanderer

A person who enjoys writing short story things, poetry and other random things that come into my head.
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2 Responses to Happy Birthday Jerry

  1. cloudfactor5 says:

    An Eloquent Tribute to Jerry !!

    The Lives They Lived: Jerry Garcia;The False Notes He Never Played

    By Ken Kesey
    Published: December 31, 1995
    HEY, JERRY — What’s happening? I caught your funeral. Weird. Big Steve was good. And Grisman. Sweet sounds. But what really stood out — stands out — is the thundering silence, the lack, the absence of that golden Garcia lead line, of that familiar slick lick with the up-twist at the end, that merry snake twining through the woodpile, flickering in and out of the loosely stacked chords . . . a wriggling mystery, bright and slick as fire . . . suddenly gone.
    And the silence left in its wake was — is — positively earsplitting.
    Now they want me to say something about the absence, Jer. Tell some backstage story, share some poignant reminiscence. But I have to tell you, man: I find myself considerably disinclined. I mean, why break such an eloquent silence?
    I remember standing out in the pearly early dawn after the Muir Beach Acid Test, leaning on the top rail of a driftwood fence with you and Lesh and Babbs, watching the world light up, talking about our glorious futures. The gig had been semi-successful, and the air was full of exulted fantasies. Babbs whacks Phil on the back.

    “Just like the big time, huh, Phil.”
    “It is! It is the big time! Why, we could cut a chart-busting record tomorrow!”
    I was even more optimistic. “Hey, we taped tonight’s show. We could release a record tomorrow.”
    “Yeah, right” — holding up that digitally challenged hand the way you did when you wanted to call attention to the truth or the lack thereof — “and a year from tomorrow be recording a ‘Things Go Better With Coke’ commercial.”
    You could be a sharp-tongued popper of balloons when you were so inclined, you know. You were the sworn enemy of hot air and commercials, however righteous the cause or lucrative the product. Nobody ever heard you use that microphone as a pulpit. No antiwar rants, no hymns to peace. No odes to the trees and All Things Organic. No ego deaths or born-againness. No devils denounced, no gurus glorified. No dogmatic howlings that I ever caught wind of. In fact, your steadfast denial of dogma was as close as you ever came to having a creed.
    And to the very end, Old Timer, you were true to that creed. No commercials. No trendy spins. No bayings of belief. And if you did have any dogma, you surely kept it tied up under the back porch, where a smelly old hound belongs.
    I guess that’s what I mean about a loud silence. Like Michelangelo said about sculpting, the statue exists inside the block of marble — all you have to do is chip away the stone you don’t need. You were always chipping away at the superficial.
    It was the false notes you didn’t play that kept that lead line so golden pure. It was the words you didn’t sing. So this is what we are left with, Jerry: this golden silence. It rings on and on without any hint of letup. And I expect it will still be ringing years from now.
    Because you’re still not playing falsely. Because you’re still not singing “Things Go Better With Coke.”
    Ever your friend, Keez

  2. D... says:

    I hope he had a wonderful and happy Birthday where ever he is now.

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