There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone.
Today’s the anniversary (twelfth) of Jerry Garcia’s death. I can easily remember this, because it’s my parents’ wedding anniversary (forty-ninth). It’s also the anniversary of the day that Nixon physically left office (thirty-third), which my parents considered a personal anniversary gift (really).
The day Jerry died I was sadder about a musician dying than I’d ever been. It kind of surprised me, actually.
I had very recently moved to Vermont and was by no means fully employed yet. It was a hot, hot summer. I spent the afternoon—in the house across the street from where I am right now—lying around on the couch, listening to Dead CDs.
If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung,
Would you hear my voice come through the music?
Would you hold it near as it were your own?
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4 comments:
our parents are old school, in a good way. I stayed up till three in the morning when I was 15 to watch Nixon's 'no whitewash' speech... but now when I am driving home from cooking on Monday lunchtime there very often a very long Dead jam on the radio, ( we have great public radio in Melbourne) and I love them and their ringyness
I meant your parents: mine were too, of course.
Wow - has it really been 12 years? The guy who used to give me rides home from University was an utter dead-head, and the 3-hour trip to and from school was filled with their music (and my driver saying, "Dude, flip that over, wouldja?")
I think I was saddest when Roy Orbison died.
I was back a my grandparent's cottage when Nixon left office. It was one of the very few things I ever saw the TV turned on for back there. (And we aren't even American!)
This may be my favorite Dead song.
I love that about your parents.
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