“We will get by…”
If you’ve stood barefoot on the grass in the twilight of a hot summer day, surrounded by tens of thousands of your closest friends, all of you smiling, nodding, dancing, twirling and feeling ecstatic to be alive and that there’s no place on this planet you’d rather be than right where you are… does it really matter if the words that come belting out of your mouth in that moment are “Wish I was a headlight on a northbound train!” or “Set the gearshift for the high gear of your soul!”?
If you’ve had goose bumps erupt on your flesh and tears well up in your eyes at the mere memory of your favorite show moment, does it matter if it happened during a soulful “Stella Blue” or a joyful peak in a “Slave to the Traffic Light” jam?
If your heart has melted at the sight of your 2 year old child dancing and making nonsense sounds to “sing along” with the lyrics of their favorite song, does it matter whether that song is “Fire on the Mountain” or “Bouncing Around the Room”?
Just as all Deadheads can tell you a story of how the Dead changed their life, be it through an epiphany that arrived during a moment of clarity at a show or through meeting the love of their life because of your mutual love for this band, all Phans can do the same.
Just as all Deadheads would empty their bank accounts, save up their vacation days in anticipation of tour announcements and refuse to commit to any plans with non-Head friends that might conflict with show dates, Phans would do the same.
Just as all Deadheads hold music appreciation, travel opportunities and experiential learning in high regard when it comes to how they want to educate their children in preparation for all the curveballs life will one day throw at them, Phans do the same.
Just as all Deadheads understand the depth of grief from having lost their band and everything associated with it, Phans do too… though we were lucky enough to get ours back, and for that, we are eternally grateful.
In spite of what a central piece the music plays in all of this, does that distinctly different connective tissue we all share really matter when you consider who we are, what we value, how we treat each other, what we teach our children and what we hope that they, too, will one day inherit from us?
The bottom line is, it’s not about our differences — which seem to be at the heart of all these arguments I see deeming Trey not worthy — it’s about our similarities, and there are more of them than there are stars in the sky.
“We will survive…”
As I said, the vast majority of sentiment I’m seeing is positive and excited for the Chicago shows, but that negative contingent weighs heavy on my mind because it just doesn’t feel right to me – it flies in the face of that communal, welcoming vibe that our tribe is famous for.
In my mind’s eye, I see a massive family reunion with joyful, tie-dyed septuagenarians holding their newborn grandchildren, clad in blue onesies with red donuts on them, gently singing and swaying them to sleep as “Ripple” plays in the background. Everyone is happy and excited to come together again and celebrate everything we’ve seen, done and been through together over the past 20…30…50 years. But then there’s crotchety old Aunt Edna who’s making a point to remind everyone how great family reunions used to be before her husband died. She’s still sad, still bitter and just won’t accept that he’s gone (gone) and nothing’s gonna bring him back. Of course, we love her anyway and simply continue to hold on hope that one day she’ll understand that life does go on and that there can be other family reunions that will never be the same as they once were, but can be great in their own, unique way too.
If you have an issue with Trey playing Chicago, I’m not going to plead with you to put it aside and join us anyway…but ask me again after we have our tickets in hand.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go yell at those damn Umphreaks to get off my lawn.
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