Goodbye Jerry, I miss you


Jerry Garcia died today.

A little bit of me died with him.

I'm not a truly serious deadhead, but I felt his presence. I felt his influence.

It wouldn't be so bad if it were all part of an ongoing cycle. But who will replace him?

We've lost so many great ones lately. Bill Graham. Robert Heinlein. Stevie Ray Vaughan. Isaac Asimov. Others I can't think of now. Now Jerry.

Who will replace them? Does it take a war to create greatness? Has the genetic pool degenerated so much that we are no longer capable of greatness?

Maybe the time for Rock and Roll is over, to pass into the realm of what they used to listen to, like the big bands, or barbershop. Maybe something new is on the way. But what? How long will we have to wait?

There are a lot of people who don't even know what they've lost today. And that's a shame.

Jerry Garcia touched my life in so many ways. I worked with Jennifer, a deadhead. Jerry was a part of her; you could see it in the way she moved. Greg took me by surprise. The best dressed man at another company, he was a deadhead. He painted pictures and made sculptures of Jerry. If I hurt, how much must his pain be?

As well as his music and his art, and his good deeds, Jerry Garcia brought people together. People in suits mingled with people in tie-dyed dresses. They partied together. Who else could do that?

I am honored to have been mistaken for Jerry, on several occasions. I look somewhat like him when I have long hair. My musical talents do not even come close to his, but he gave me something to shoot for.

Goodbye, Jerry. I will miss you.


I got on BART to go home. As I sat down, an older man across the aisle held out his paper to me, the front page with the headline.

I was confused; he said gently, "I thought you'd be interested in this."

I took the paper, and began reading the articles, about Jerry's life, about Jerry's death. I read of people coming together to mourn their loss -- our loss. I began to cry.

For the rest of the week, through the weekend, and on, I continued to hear of people coming together to recognize what we had lost. And of most people one might say its too bad he couldn't do that much good when he was alive, but in Jerry's case, that's exactly what he did. We just didn't realize it at the time.

And now I still cry, and probably always will, when I think of that day. But perhaps one day I'll be able to manage a smile, thinking of the example he set for us.

I want to say thanks to that nameless man who lived up to Jerry's example and passed that paper to me. Across the aisle, across generations, in Jerry's best style, he brought us together.


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