I never liked The Grateful Dead. I tried. At my overly-resourced boarding school, the upside of following the Dead was substantial. Social currency, sanctioned rebellion...dare I say, possibly getting laid? And yet I could not. I felt it was a case of the Emperor's New Clothes, 100%.
I just turned 40. I have two kids. I am traveling for work close to 75% now, and it's crushing. My wife is wrestling with both parts of her "working mom" title. We barely have time for a quiet meal together.
Last night, sandwiched between a weekend spent working and another week separated by Continental Airlines, we had a sushi date. And then, pushing our luck and our baby-sitter's patience, we went for frozen yogurt.
Uncle John's Band, off of the "Workingman's Dead" Grateful Dead album, played over the yogurt shop's speakers. It was so peaceful, so beautiful. I started swaying, slightly, just wanting to go along with the soothing river, happy to go wherever the song took me.
My wife, a long-time Dead fan, says everyone has their moment when The Grateful Dead speaks to them. Last night I heard it, and somehow I knew everything was going to be okay.
