Yes, there are days...

I never knew this guy. Never met him. I don't idolize him. I wouldn't follow his lead and do heroin, but I'd follow around if he were still playing. The guy had some faults. From what I've read maybe some wicked ones. Then again...

I didn't know him. At the end of the movie, My Favorite Year, Benji says of Alan Swann, the larger than life actor he has come to despise and love all in the span of one week,  "With Swann, you learn to forgive a lot."

What I do know is that Jerry Garcia meant a great deal to many people. His music had a major impact on my life. The Dead are one of the bands that factor and loom large in the soundtrack of my life. In another post I called Skull & Roses, a comfort record. The Dead's music is like that for me. I don't even try to explain it. Some bands just work that way for me.
The Dead
Doug Sahm
The Clash
The Band
Stephen Bennett
Al
The Stones
to name just seven
and Justin, sweet, sweet, dear young sweet prince(I'm joking already, kinda like getting Rick-rolled, you've been Beebed)

 I only saw them play about 20 times, far fewer than many deadheads or most of my friends. But on those occasions I was lucky enough to listen I shared with huge crowds and my friends a magical time distilled into a memory of those days.

It was 17 years ago today that Garcia finally gave it up. He was only 53. The heart just played out. For my money that seems far too young for someone to die. Flesher used to say we only have so many heartbeats, don't waste them. Probably true. The other great piece of advice I got from Don that has served me well the last 35 years....never make decisions based out of fear.

It wasn't until last week that it even dawned on me that I'd outlived Garcia. For some 17 is a magical number. The most common random number they say. For me 17 has always held magical memories. I know it was rough on Janis Ian and I mean no respect when I say my thoughts of that time were much happier even if I wasn't "all that" either at that age.

17-girls, women, females, at 17 they all are beautiful. I think it is because at 17 a young man finally has(or had in my case) semi put 1 and 1 together and gotten 2.  It is a time when I started thinking about girls and the possibility of relationships that would be developmentally important to me. Even though it isn't likely, by 17 you are aware  that you just might fall pretty dang hard.

At 17, I was allowed freedom in my choice of movies. Finally an "R"  rated movie didn't mean I'd need to jump through hoops to get in the door. My first post 17 "R" was a Woody Allen movie which seems fitting in my life too. So many doors opened for me both positive and negative. At 17,  I had a circle of friends I still have today. Sure, I remember all of the pure-D-crud of being 17(like geez, how many ways and how many excuses and girls come up with to turn you down, still just laughing is the worst, but what I hold onto are thoughts of youthful freedom.

So 17 years ago Garcia died. I was getting computers ready for the next school year. I heard the news and went home and dug out a photo a friend took of Jerry dwarfed by the wall of sound in '74. I guess for me it just seems like a special number as well. Sort of like listening to someone explain the time a certain Dead song was sung at a certain instant because the listener and the band were sharing a connected moon beam and the song request was sent telepathically to Jerry who bounced it  off Phil and Bob as Micky and Bill concurred and somebody let whoever the keyboard player in on it too. Don't laugh, I think that stuff happened. Memorial Hall October of sometime it was as if every song I wished for came up next. Strange but quite pleasant.

So in memory of Jerry and all the memories here's a seldom heard treat, well, the lyrics anyway.

You can stream the audio and listen to a couple of versions at this link:

http://archive.org/details/gd93-02-10.rehearsal.Samaritano.17435.sbeok.shnf

Days Between :

There were days
and there were days
and there were days between
Summer flies and August dies
the world grows dark and mean
Comes the shimmer of the moon
on black infested trees
the singing man is at his song
the holy on their knees
The reckless are out wrecking
The timid plead their pleas
No one knows much more of this
than anyone can see anyone can see
There were days
and there were days
and there were days besides
when phantom ships with phantom sails
set to sea on phantom tides
Comes the lightning of the sun
on bright unfocused eyes
the blue of yet another day
a springtime wet with sighs
a hopeful candle lingers
in the land of lullabies
where headless horsemen vanish
with wild and lonely cries lonely cries
There were days
and there were days
and there were days I know
when all we ever wanted
was to learn and love and grow
Once we grew into our shoes
we told them where to go
Walked halfway around the world
on promise of the glow
Stood upon a mountain top
Walked barefoot in the snow
Gave the best we had to give
How much we'll never know we'll never know
There were days
and there were days
and there were days between
polished like a golden bowl
The finest ever seen
Hearts of Summer held in trust
still tender, young and green
left on shelves collecting dust
not knowing what they mean
Valentines of flesh and blood
as soft as velveteen
hoping love would not forsake
the days that lie between lie between