Girl Jerry Brings the Tunes to South Florida

I must admit that I think about the Grateful Dead every day. I find spiritual meaning in the music, and the community.

I also find spiritual meaning, and my livelihood, in my work with tarot. Often, the latter leaves little time for the former.

As much as I regret missing shows, I love the life I’ve chosen, and would not have had the courage to choose my tarot life without my Grateful Dead life prior. The fact is, I learned to read tarot on Dead tour.

Before going to see Girl Jerry a week and a half ago, I hadn’t had a Dead fix since seeing the John Kadlecik Band at Skipper’s Smokehouse in Tampa in February 2016. When I saw that it was Grateful Dead night at Terra Fermata, just a few miles from my new home in Stuart, I was excited to put on my dancing shoes and check out the local scene.

Girl Jerry separates itself from most other local Dead cover bands in the way the band’s name suggests; the lead guitarist and two lead vocalists are female.

Lest folks assume that the hippie vibe of Deadheads always translates into gender equality, or any other equality-based values, let me be clear that it doesn’t, and that Girl Jerry is brave to replace the parts traditionally played by “the boys” with women, no matter how talented. Just look at the backlash against a female Dr. Who – no community, no matter how seemingly enlightened, is immune to sexism.

The rock world in general has been a hostile place for women, but there was no hostility at Terra Fermata when Girl Jerry took the open-air stage.

I was thrilled with my fellow heads, who braved the heat and humidity and danced from sound check to the final song. The crowd was appreciative and supportive of the band, and of each other. I felt at home after having been too long at sea.

The material selection for the evening leaned a bit toward the traditional and western stuff. Me and My Uncle, Jack-a-roe, Goin’ Down the Road Feelin’ Bad and I Know You Rider had everyone up and dancing, and had me just a wee bit tired of the bright, folky beat, when I long for the deeper tunes I loved in my youth.

It’s important to remember that precision was never highly valued by the Grateful Dead, or by we Deadheads. Typically, Dead cover bands are tighter than the boys themselves often were. I can’t quite say that about Girl Jerry; there were some moments when the rhythm seemed off, or a chord didn’t quite happen as it should. The second set was better than the first, but this Deadhead had no complaints; Girl Jerry totally provided my long-overdue Dead fix.

The few off moments were nothing compared to the many, many legitimately brilliant moments. The band showed their unique vibe when they rolled out a couple of non-Dead jams, including an unlikely but workable mash-up of Pink Floyd’s The Wall with Shakedown Street.

The lead guitar and vocals were on point. There is no way to play guitar “like a girl”, it’s either good or it isn’t, and, it was very good. Vocals are another story. We got used to female voices on Dead tunes with Joan Osborne and Susan Tedeschi, sure, but a whole night of Dead tunes sung by women? Could it work? Oh, yeah. It worked beautifully. The blues, the soul, the folk and the straight-ahead rock all happened without benefit of a lead tenor, baritone or bass vocalist.

The other band members are male. I’m sad that I didn’t catch the names of any of the musicians. I also didn’t keep set lists – I was too busy dancing. I guess that says it all, doesn’t it? The band plays well together, works well with the crowd, and plays my favorite tunes. I hope they play together for many years!

My favorite songs of the night were a really inspired Eyes of the World, a soulful Stella Blue, and an out-of-the-park Morning Dew. The Morning Dew, apparently, was new for the band, and had not been performed before outside of rehearsal. Obviously, the band was feeling what I was feeling that night – the crowd was with them.  And, clearly, they were with us.

The Scarlet Begonias and Fire on the Mountain were joyful and uplifting. My friend, Suzie, who loves to dance but isn’t a deadhead, burned it up on the dance floor with me. At one point, she asked me, after telling me how much she was enjoying the music, “Is this band good?” She was looking for my discerning deadhead opinion, of course.

I answered unequivocally. Yeah, they rock.

This weekend begins “Jerry Week” or, “The Days Between” Jerry’s birthday and the anniversary of his joining the band in rock and roll heaven. There will be plenty of opportunities to check out local Dead bands where ever you happen to be, or to join your friends for the “Grateful Dead Meet-up at the Movies” by Fathom Events.

If you happen to be in South Florida, make sure you check out Girl Jerry, as well as our other wonderful local acts.

As much as we appreciate the national acts that keep the music going, my heart is with the local acts who keep the spirit alive close to home. Not all of us enjoy the health and wealth it requires to follow bands across the country as we did in our youth.

Girl Jerry is such an act – they rock, not despite their gender, but, in part, because of it. Soul, rhythm and musical depth are both and neither male and female, and the wisdom of the Grateful Dead belongs to us all.

Girl Jerry delivered that wisdom in a way that reminded me where my church is, and has always been.

Fare Thee Well, Fourth Day of July

Although I couldn’t be in Chicago last night to see the July 4th second show of the three-show 50th anniversary "Fare Thee Well" tour, I had front row seats, as did anyone who wanted them. The show was available worldwide, in theaters, nightclubs and on smartphones. I chose to watch the live feed in the comfort of a movie theater. The house was almost full. Although we lost the feed for a few minutes in the first set, I was impressed with how present the real-time feed made us feel. We applauded, danced, sang along, hooted, hollered and had a “real good time.”

Some of the camera angles gave us an up-close look at how the musicians interact with each other; nuances I wasn’t at a vantage point to notice back in the day.

There are certain things you expect from a Fourth of July Grateful Dead show. The boys didn’t disappoint, although I was surprised that “Jack Straw” wasn’t on the set list.

The show opened with an energetic “Shakedown Street.” They didn’t sound exactly like the Grateful Dead used to, and they weren’t trying to. That’s DSO’s job. Neither did they sound like RatDog, PL&F, 7 Walkers, Furthur or even Phish.

At moments, they sounded like bits of some of those projects, as if they we trying to find the right meld, the right balance. The Grateful Dead always played it loose. Even in killer shows, they had some off moments. There were off moments last night, more in the first set than in the second, and none that mattered.

In Shakedown, they did that “shake it down, shake it down, shake it down now” thing. I l thought that was great, and foreshadowed some of the great vocal interactions to come.  I know many older heads prefer to keep it traditional, though.

Overall, the vocal quality varied greatly. Bobby was super-on when it really mattered, but seemed a bit pulled back otherwise. Trey and Bruce were spot on. Their voices blended beautifully, adding weight, in my mind, to the much-debated choice of Trey Anastasio over John Kadlecik.

I was thrilled with Trey in this line-up. I love John Kadlecik, too. Trey Anastasio has been around since the 1980s, though. I remember seeing Phish at Toad’s Place in New Haven when they were just this cool jam band out of Vermont.

I think a lot of the animosity some Deadheads hold toward Trey and Phish involves simply the pain of Jerry’s death. I remember a wry bumper sticker from the time that said, “Jerry’s dead, Phish sucks, cut your hair and get a job”.  The rise of Phish in the vacuum left by Jerry felt hollow to a lot of us. Phish was, and continues to be, a great band. Their sound was different enough that, in a time of grief, Jerry’s absence felt even heavier.

Trey’s musical style has a bit of a schism to it that may be uncomfortable for some. Trey Anastasio is like the musical offspring of Frank Zappa and Jerry Garcia. That’s not a bad thing, but it can be a bit unsettling. Frank was a straight edge musician who demanded that every note and every beat be perfect. Jerry was a drug-addicted improvisational musical wizard.
Last night, Trey didn’t try to be Jerry, or Frank, and he didn’t bring that unique Phish flavor.  What he did was a great job honoring Jerry, and still being himself.

The second song, predictably, was a heartfelt “Liberty”. Bob supplied competent vocals for both songs. The third song was “Standing on the Moon.” I think many people were surprised that Trey took lead vocals on this one, but, for me, it worked beautifully. Trey’s voice was sweet and reverent. As he sang the words, “I’d rather be with you”, it was clear to whom he was singing.

This song, even more than the predictable “U.S. Blues” encore, was the defining moment of patriotism in an Independence Day show honoring a uniquely American phenomenon.

After that deep, sweet interlude, the first set found its crimson, white and indigo Americana stride with a bouncy, happy rendition of “Me and My Uncle”, followed by an intricate “Cumberland Blues”, finally culminating in a rollicking “Tennessee Jed”.

There was no “Grateful Dylan” song this show; the first-set Bobby crooner was “Little Red Rooster.” Back in the day, that was my bathroom song. Last night, it was a nice bluesy tone-down after some serious dancing.

We were quickly back on our feet for a PL&F-up-tempo-style “Friend of the Devil”, sung by Phil. He added the extra Robert Hunter verse at the end, which made me happy.

The first set closed with a smokin’ hot “Deal”, with Trey and Bruce sharing lead vocals. You might say it was a “Deal of a lifetime.”

During intermission, we could see fireworks over the river. The stream included a rockin’ soundtrack, some great stills and footage from fifty years of the Grateful Dead, as well as real-time crowd scenes.

Nothing in the first set prepared me for the devastatingly profound second set, which opened with Bird Song. Some folks too young to have seen Jerry live figured out what song it would be before I did, but they didn’t know the name of the song. “It’s gonna be ‘Snow and Rain’!” That’s good enough for me.
Phil took vocals on Bird Song. Trey could have done it better, Bruce could have done it better, and Bobby could have done it better. It made sense, though, for Phil to take it. These shows are about the “Core Four,” and Bobby had to save his voice for what was coming.

The next song was an almost-over-the-top “Golden Road”, with Trey and Bruce again sharing lead vocals. I really hope that Trey and Bruce play together again; they are such a tasty duo.

After “Golden Road”, the mood changed again, with a sweet, soulful “Lost Sailor/ Saint of Circumstance”. There were a few frustratingly rough moments toward the beginning, but, overall, this was one of the big payoffs of the show for me. Bobby was on, and present, singing in soft, easy way, almost as if he were singing to himself, and to Jerry, as much as to us.

From there, another shift into a raunchy “West LA Fadeaway” in which Bruce Hornsby really shone.

A unique feature of the “Fare Thee Well” lineup was the two keyboardists, Bruce and Jeff Chementi. Both are amazing. Together, they added layers to the sound, and to the vocals, that really made the show compelling.

A fun “Foolish Heart”, with Trey on vocals, took us in to drums and space.

I’ve seen most of the post-Jerry projects, and I love them all. I had forgotten how much the rhythm section of Mickey Hart and Bill Kreutzmann was responsible for the unique sound of the Grateful Dead.

Throughout the first set, Billy looked less than enthused, although he did his job masterfully. During drums and space, he seemed to loosen up and enjoy himself a bit.
I always loved watching Mickey and Bill during drums. The up-close cameras gave me a view I had never had before.

As the band came out of Space, the first notes were unmistakable, but almost unbelievable. The boys went into a perfect, soul-wrenching “Stella Blue,” with Bobby on vocals.  This is why Bobby had been saving himself a bit. He pulled out the stops and owned this Jerry song in a way that was so him, and so Jerry, and so much that broken angel singing.

The “One More Saturday Night” that followed to close the show, and the U.S. Blues encore, were obligatory, but not in the least pedestrian.
Phil’s donor rap, so much a part of latter-year Dead culture, and so close to my own heart (I’m a living kidney donor) was almost as inspiring as the satisfied smile on his face when a second fireworks display, this time directly over the stadium, closed the evening.

He seemed to be basking in it, for a moment. Perhaps he was not so much feeling the weight of fifty years, but the miracle of it. I know I was.

Confessions of a Mystical Fangirl

Most teachers, tarotists, ministers and spiritual advisors I know reference quotations and stories to help illustrate their point. Even Jesus taught in parables.

I draw from a wide range of sources for inspirational and illustrative passages, although I will admit that, while many of my friends often quote Rumi and Kahlil Gibran, I am more likely to quote the Grateful Dead.

Yesterday, I realized that I pepper my language with references from another source. I am a huge sci-fi fan – I always have been. As a kid, I read Bradbury nonstop one summer. While I don’t watch broadcast or cable TV, I do love watching series on Netflix and Hulu. Most of my favorite shows are sci-fi.

I figured I was normal in that. I mean, most of my friends and family bemoaned the loss of “Firefly” with me. However, on three occasions yesterday, my sci-fi reference garnered only blank stares.

One person didn’t know why I was mentioning red pills and blue pills in a conversation about those who are willing to see reality and those who are not. The iconic Matrix reference missed completely.

In another conversation, we were discussing why sometimes divination yields confusing results. “No spoilers,” I said in my best River Song voice. My friend was clearly not a Whovian.

Finally, in discussing a friend’s business conundrum, I told her that she must, above all else, honor her inner Ferengi and not lose sight of her financial interests. The message resonated, even though she didn’t know anything about the Ferengi Rules of Acquisition.

I share with others the things that inspire me. Is it odd that stories of time and space different from our own inspire me so much?

Year ago, when I was in the hospital fighting a post-surgical infection, it was an image from a Stephen King novel that kept me grounded and fighting for my life. The Bene Gesserit Litany against Fear, from Dune, was my daily mantra in the early years of my business, when everything felt new and scary.

Many people draw their inspiration only from sacred texts, or lauded philosophers and poets. I find value there, too. I also believe there is much for us to learn from stories that place a human element in an alien setting. When everything else is foreign, it becomes easy to see what is innately human and immediately resonant.

There is a special joy, too, in finding the magic that hides within the mundane.

Pop culture and geek fandom may not be as intellectually or artistically important as ancient works, but they can be every bit as relevant and enlightening. As the Grateful Dead said, “Once in a while you can get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right.”

Grateful Dead at the Movies: A Return to Alpine Valley

May Fourth, 2015 wasn’t just Star Wars Day (May the Fourth be with you). It was also Fathom Events’ “Grateful Dead Meet Up at the Movies”.

This year, the long strange trip down memory lane happened to be from July 19, 1989, a show I attended. This was actually one of my favorite shows ever, at my very favorite venue, Alpine Valley in East Troy, Wisconsin.

I remember that show specifically because it was an outdoor rain show. Rain shows aren’t everyone’s cup of tea. I don’t always enjoy them, but that particular night I was dancing on the flat area toward Phil’s side of the stage, splashing in the puddles and having fun.

The best part about rain shows, of course, is that the band would play the rain songs. This show featured “Box of Rain” and “Looks like Rain”. I remember being so excited to hear those songs then, and I was excited to enjoy them again at the movies.

I was a bit sad that my peers seemed to enjoy the cushy movie theatres seats overly much, but almost every head nodded in time. Spontaneous applause resounded after Jerry’s solos, as if we were hearing them for the first time. By the encore, “Turn on Your Lovelight,” everyone in the house was dancing.

I was disappointed at the rudeness of a few of my fellow Heads. A few people talked through the entire movie. I’ve noticed this behavior at other shows. Recently, Bob Weir stopped playing during a show because of loud talkers in the front row. I wish I could blame this rudeness on a younger generation, but I am afraid the loudest talkers in the theater were folks who were older than I am, and certainly old enough to know better.

During the years I followed Dead tour, I always gravitated to the place in the arena with the best sound and the most room to dance. That meant I rarely actually watched the show. One of the best parts of seeing this movie twenty-five years later was watching the boys play up close. I love the way the band interacted with each other, their music and their audience.

I loved seeing Jerry laugh when he sang the line from “Sugaree”, “You still have to stand out in the pouring rain.” He was laughing, of course, because we were standing in the rain.

Having the cameras onstage gave us an intimate look at the boys’ work environment. We saw photos of loved ones on Brent’s keyboard. We saw the way Billy and Mickey worked together to keep the rhythm going. We saw Jerry’s fingers flying over Tiger, the guitar we all knew and loved.

Because I toured in the later 1980s, I heard a bunch of Terrapin shows. For a while, my relationship with Terrapin was tenuous at best. I sang, “Terrible, I hate this song” in place of the actual lyrics “Terrapin, can’t figure out…”

My hatred for Terrapin continued long after my touring days ended. When I was seeing a RatDog, Furthur, DSO or PL&F show once a year, it would make me a little sad that the one show I would get to would be yet another Terrapin.

I truly believe that music is an oracle provided by the Universe for our enlightenment and contemplation. I knew there was something for me to learn from this song.

Finally, at the Bayfront in Miami, seeing Furthur with John Kadlecik, I made my peace with Terrapin. At the movies, when it was time for Terrapin, I dance my heart out, truly embracing the “inspiration” of this song.

Watching my peeps in the theater texting, Instagramming and Facebooking reminded me of how little technology we had back in the day. How did we all make it to each show? How did we find each other’s camping spots? How did we organize rides? Somehow, we managed to do all those things and more, without cellphones or social media.

I had fun with my phone, taking pictures of the movie screen, trying to capture the boys in thoughtful expressions. Eventually, I gave up, put my phone away and danced.

Those who don’t understand the Dead, their music or our intense devotion to the band, often remark that the reason the band was so popular was because of the substances many of their followers enjoyed.

I will admit to being sober in the theater and not sober at the original show in 1989. I am happy to report that the music held up to my sobriety just fine. Substances were never the inspiration for me. It’s always been about the music.

This was not the first time I’ve seen a movie of a Dead show I had attended. “Crimson, White and Indigo” is one of my favorite Grateful Dead movies. I was at that show, too.

The thing about the July 19, 1989 Alpine Valley show was that I loved that venue, and that particular show, so much, and remembered it so well. Sometimes memory improves on things a bit. In this case, I am happy to report that the show was every bit as magnificent as I remembered, maybe more. The only thing that couldn’t stand the test of time was Bobby’s short shorts.

Watching the sea of tee-shirt-wearing, graying Deadheads leave the theater gave me a new appreciation of why many of them stayed in their seats for most of the show. We are not a very physically fit bunch these days. I’ve only recently joined the gym, and now I have a new reason to be dedicated to it.  The lyric “I’m still walking, so I’m sure that I can dance” may not hold up so well over time.

It’s a paradox that I remember well from Dead tour. There were the healthy Heads, from whom you could always buy a good stir-fry or burrito. There were the party Heads, who drank a lot of beer and ate a lot of chips.  You could buy interesting things from them, too.  At the time, we were young, invincible and seemingly immortal. Now, some of us have serious health issues, but find ways to get to shows anyway. Some of us could use some kind of “Sweatin’ with Jerry” exercise program for aging Heads. Oh, right, we call that “dancing.”

Skipper’s Smokehouse

I have been to my share of restaurants, nightclubs and cafes in many parts of the world. This is why it is no small thing when I say that Skipper’s Smokehouse in Tampa, FL is by far the coolest, most unique establishment I have ever visited.

Skipper’s is a fish-shack sort of a restaurant and bar. The only food I have eaten there so far is one deep-fried mushroom, which was awesome. I assume I will try a meal there before too long.

Skipper’s has many small buildings that connect one to another, leaving an open-air area in the middle, which is the music venue. There are huge trees that seem to be incorporated into the structures and provide something of a ceiling for the music venue. I would probably choose not to see a band in the rain.

The way it is set up you can have a meal and hear the music without paying the cover for the band, but if you want to be in front of the band and on the dance floor, you pay the seven dollar cover.

The prices, overall, seem very reasonable – especially after five years in South Florida where everything is overpriced.

I was at Skipper’s last Thursday to get my Grateful Dead fix. Every Thursday is Grateful Dead night at Skippers, featuring Uncle John’s Band. Yes, they rock.

One of the things that makes Skipper’s so unusual is that they have a live band every night of the week. I haven’t known a club to do this since Toad’s Place in New Haven before Connecticut raised the drinking age to 21.

Skipper’s is decorated in graffiti art. Even the (clean) women’s room has inspirational graffiti scrawled in the stalls.

One of the oddest (and most fun) thing I noticed at Skippers were a rack of guest hoops. Yes, if you want to hoop to the music, go for it.

The scene Thursday night was tremendously cool. Under the canopy of trees and stars children, young adults and senior citizens danced together. Vendors in the back sold tie dyes and jewelry. People watched the band while munching on fish, fries and wings.

All I can say is I can’t wait for next Thursday.

Dark Star Orchestra at Revolution Hall

This week I had the rare opportunity to see one of my favorite touring bands. Dark Star Orchestra played Revolution Hall in Fort Lauderdale.

Dark Star Orchestra has been touring for fifteen years. Their name reveals their intent.

"Dark Star" is a much-beloved Grateful Dead song that for many fans typifies the Grateful Dead experience.

An orchestra dedicates itself to preserving, interpreting and performing the works of long-dead great masters.

So the intent of Dark Star Orchestra is not to be a tribute band, or even a commemoration or reenactment of the Grateful Dead scene. The intent of DSO is to take the music of the Grateful Dead forward. They do it well.

Most Deadheads will admit that on many nights DSO's performances are technically better than the Grateful Dead's, especially vocally.

The remaining members of the Grateful Dead seem to appreciate DSO. John Kadlecik, one of the founding members of DSO has been playing with Furthur since 2009. Furthur is a touring band that features both Bob Weir and Phil Lesh of the Grateful Dead. What a job promotion for John Kadlecik, and what a vote of confidence for DSO!

The February 26 performance at Revolution Hall was the first time I had seen DSO without John Kadlecik. I did see Furthur with him in 2009 and they were fabulous.

As it turns out the new DSO line-up is terrific. As with any good orchestra, a change in personnel does not change the quality of the performance.

DSO reproduces Grateful Dead shows song-by-song, note-by-note.  The show for this special night was from June 22, 1976. In 1976 I was in middle school and had yet to fall in love with the Grateful Dead, but the songs from this show were some of my favorites.

One of the best parts of the night for me was a deeply reverent Cassidy that exploded into a Promised Land at the end of the first set. I also enjoyed the earlier fun and funky Tennessee Jed.

The second set included an absolutely joyous Eyes of the World and a Samson and Delilah that really could have torn "this old building down".

Revolution Hall is a quintessential rock club. I found the bar on the second floor and discovered the entire second floor was wired for sound. When it comes to Dead shows I don't need to see the band, I need to hear the band and I need room to dance. I found all that on the second floor. It reminded me of the coliseums that would put speakers in the hallways for those of us who needed room to groove.

Travis Newbill wrote a great review of the show for the New Times. He said that Dark Star Orchestra provides a healing service. He's right. It is a healing service for those of us who spent years organizing our lives around Dead shows, traveling to gather with our brothers and sisters in parking lots across the country to eat fried rice and burritos, trade handcrafted items and join in that sacred dance.

But DSO isn't just for my aging brethren to remember the days of yore. DSO, along with Furthur, 7 Walkers and the many other touring projects have attracted new, young fans; kids who never saw the actual Grateful Dead.  These kids tour with the bands, know the songs and feel proud to carry on the traditions.

I danced next to one such kid (well, he could have been thirty). We were tearing it up in the second set. Without being asked, he told me he understands the sacred nature of the music and feels a personal responsibility to keep it going.

The Grateful Dead, capricious as they were, did not always play an encore. On June 22, 1976 they closed the show at the end of the second set and called it a day. Dark Star Orchestra would never leave their audience so deprived. They chose Ripple as a special treat with which to send us on our way.

Ripple in clear water
when there is no pebble tossed, nor wind to blow…

That song describes the spiritual mystery of the Grateful Dead. That spiritual mystery is preserved by many musicians - local bands playing Dead covers, new projects of the original musicians and, of course, Dark Star Orchestra. 

When in Doubt, Dance

I'll be turning 50 very soon. I've been practicing owning that age for a few months so it won't be so traumatic when it actually happens.

As I contemplate a half-century on this very strange planet, I think about the cultural snapshot of now, what that looks like, and how I feel about it.

Here's where I stand.

I love Gangnam Style. Recently a CNN Blogger declared Gangnam Style over and dead. I think he's wrong. Gangnam Style makes the whole world dance together. Who cares if the dance is silly?

Honey Boo Boo who? I don't watch broadcast TV, so I only see snippets of stupidity. But, apparently, there is plenty of stupidity to go around. I still like Glee, which I watch on Hulu. I'm also watching The Voice, but was bored with blind auditions - 16 team members per coach seem just too much. And, as usual, the Brits do TV better than we do; Dr. Who was terrific this season.

My favorite adult cartoons are getting grosser and grosser. Vomit and dismemberment just aren't funny. Politics and religion are. Don't forget why I first loved you, Seth MacFarlane!

The new SNL cast is pretty good. I am expecting great things from Vanessa Bayer, and then I am expecting her to be over-used and worn-out, just as Kristen Wiig was.

Right now, the Western world is mourning the tragic deaths of two young girls. Jessica Ridgeway was the victim of kidnap and murder in Colorado, while Amanda Todd took her own life in Canada, a victim of bullying. I guess really sad things have always happened to kids and there have always been monsters in the world; the internet just makes sure we all know about them.

The presidential race is too close to call, with each side terrified that awful things will happen if the other candidate is elected. What a weird national mindset that is. We are ideologically divided. The Tea Party and Occupy extremists seem to have lost their credibility, but that hasn't brought us closer to center, or to each other, as a nation yet. One thing we all agree on - the government has lost its way. We are only divided on what we need to do to fix it.

It has been a long time since there was a national mandate in a presidential election. According to my research, it would have been 1984, when Ronald Reagan was re-elected by a landslide. At the time, I was not a Reagan supporter. In retrospect, I think he and Nancy did a good job in certain respects. The funny thing is that his policies (that many of us considered too right-wing then) now wouldn't be enough to win him the support of the current Republican party, so far to the right has the GOP moved.

I never thought I would say this, but we could sure use a guy like Reagan right now. Doesn't that make me sound old?

But how long can a nation stand so evenly divided, so angry, and so afraid?

The only answer I can think of? Oppan Gangnam Style! When in doubt, dance.

I guess things haven't changed so much over the past quarter century. Then I was seeing as many Grateful Dead shows as I could, always hoping to hear my favorite songs, including this one (Throwin' Stones), whose lyrics described the situation then just as it feels now.

"So the kids they dance
And shake their bones,
And the politicians throwin' stones,
Singing ashes, ashes, all fall down.
Ashes, ashes, all fall down."