I'm so grateful, for the Grateful Dead.

By the last 60’s and early 70’s, I was a pot-smoking acid dropping anti war hippy with hair down to the crack of my ass.  I wanted to spend most of my life getting high and going to loud rock concerts.  

I lived too long in the Midwest, and got busted for pot.   That experience of getting arrested made some of the Dead’s lyrics hauntingly real after you have been  “set up like a bowling pin … “

Later I had to do a short stretch for weed in Santa Cruz County because I wouldn’t snitch on my supplier.  I could have done the time at a forestry camp but they would shave your head.  I kept my long hair but did time in a grimy, dangerous County jail.

While in that jail,  I wrote the following ode to the Dead, titled “Listening to the Band.”

When I’m in my bunk each morning

Trying to sleep those days away

One thing can make me lift my head

The radio crooning the Grateful Dead.

Their fine tunes make the sun shine

A friend of the Dead is a friend of mine

Garcia’s guitar  bends the bars,

Opens the roof, lets in the stars.

You know they know the joint’s no joke

They break the same laws I do

Devil weed and cousin coke

The court trip’s one that they’ve been through

The feeling of being on the run

Spending your birthday locked in jail

Busted for some one else’s crime

Without weed, and without bail

Right now my time’s getting short

Gonna get beer, some smoke, a snort

Fall with my lover on the waterbed

And get it on to the Grateful Dead.

I tried to publish this from the Kos Deadhead group, but it wouldn’t queue up.