The 1995 Deer Creek Fiasco

July 2nd 1995 found us sitting dead still in traffic in Noblesville Indiana.  We were driving three miles from the camp grounds to the Grateful Dead show at Deer Creek Ampitheater.  There were so many people making their way down what appeared to be the only road leading to the theater that our three mile car ride took 3 hours.  People on foot made it there in a tenth of the time, but we were committed to our car, seeing as we couldn't abandon it.



Once we made it to the show there was an immediate sense of dread in the air.  The vibe was not the one I had grown used to at past Grateful Dead shows.  The gates were overcrowded with people trying to make their way into the show.  It was already near 7:30 so the show was about to start yet hundreds of us were still trying to gain entrance. 

The Security Guys were doing the kind of checks that now seem common at airports since 911, but in 1995 at a concert it was crazy.  People were pushing and restless.

We made our way in and found our seats about twenty rows back from the stage.  The show began with a rousing rendition of Here Comes Sunshine.  And most of the first set was decently performed if somewhat underwhelming.  It wasn't until toward the end of the first set as Bob Weir went into Dylan's Desolation Row that the bubble burst.

Suddenly 2000 gate crashes started tearing apart the fence that surrounds the back end of the theater and the shouting and yelling was overwhelming.  Suddenly you couldn't hear the music, but no one was watching the stage anyway.  All eyes were fixed on the commotion starting behind us.  And within minutes the already sold out concert just welcomed 2000 more.  The people in the lawn could barely move let alone breathe.


The first set ended and the Dead, known for their long set breaks, didnt come back onstage for almost 75 minutes.  No doubt they were trying to decide whether or not to continue on.

During the set break, my friend and I made way to the first row for a closer look at the stage.  We were greeted by the odd stares of the first row audience.  Odd enough to make us turn around and go back to our seats. (We later found out there had been a very real death threat made against Jerry that night and the front row was full of FBI agents in tie-dyes.)

But the sun set, and the band took the stage.  Odd thing is that the house lights remained on.  It was very strange. (later we realized it was due to the death threat.)  The show continued with the most aimless and heartbreaking versions of Scarlet-->Fire, I have ever heard.  Scarlett Begonias was done well, but suddenly as the jam turned into Fire on the Mountain, Jerry seemed totally lost.  He played very off key and only managed to remember the lyrics to the third verse.  The music fell apart as the rest of the band ceased playing, but Jerry, head slumped in his chest, kept playing off key.  Phil Lesh tossed his hands in the air, not knowing what to do.

Thankfully Bob steered the music back on track and the band segued into Victim or the Crime with those haunting opening lyrics, "Patience runs out on the junkie".  Bob looked at Jerry as he sang those words.  It was chilling.  Jerry was just out of it.  At this point we were nearing the final week of performances for the summer tour, which turned out to be the last ever since Jerry died 5 weeks later.

The show ended, but no one felt like they'd just had a great Grateful Dead concert experience.  Instead there was anger, resentment, chaos and disorder all around.

And when we tried to leave, security wouldn't let anyone go.  Suddenly five Tour Buses came speeding down the road and left the grounds.  It was the Grateful Dead and crew being allowed to leave first since the threats and chaos made them a target.

The three of us who attended the show drove back to camp silently.

***Funny ending is that the Dead's tour bus actually got stuck in a ditch a mile down the road and a farmer had to come out and help them out of their situation.  The next night's show was cancelled as the police refused to work the show.  This was the first and ultimately only time the Dead cancelled a concert because of the fans.

This show and a few others that summer resulted in the Dead naming it the Tour From Hell.  And the Gate Crashers Suck sticker was born.

By the time we attended the Soldiers Field shows a week later, the band had drafted a strongly worded letter to the fans, that either we smarten up or they were going to quit touring.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cshubs/6668325753/  (The Letter)

It didn't matter.  Jerry Died a month later.

Inexplicable Distraction in Five Steps

Getting ready to admit to myself, the God and to another Human Being the exact nature of my wrongs. What that means is not what I did wrong, but what course of action or more importantly, thought, that led me to such action.

EXAMPLE:  I call a woman a worthless whore.
STEP 5:  Why did I call her that?  What way of thinking led me to behave that way? What lies within me that resulted in me calling her that name?

So as I ready to admit the nature of my wrongs I decided to make a list of all my wrongs.  And oh boy is it an ugly list.  Take a day and put down every mean, hateful, illegal, immoral, etc, thing you have ever done in your life.  When you're finished, look at the list and see what you come up with. See what trends there are.  See how ugly your behavior can be from time to time over the course of your entire life.  Its amazing what you learn about yourself once you get over how awful a person you seem on paper.

Then take that paper and read it aloud, read it to God and then go and divulge it to another human being. I highly recommend a therapist or priest.  At least choose someone who isn't going to judge you or run for the hills with a shotgun and a restraining order.

Once you have done this move on.  Let it go.  Burn the paper you wrote it on so the FBI, CIA or Police can't use it against you in court.  But you gotta let it go.  I gotta let it go.  I have discovered the ugly corners of myself and have brought them to the surface so the only thing left to do is to let it go.

But letting it go is two steps away, first I must become willing to let it go then I gotta ask God to remove these defects.  Oh boy, God is going to have to clear his schedule that day for sure.

The Final Days of Jerry Garcia Cat

It was March 2nd 2009 when I put my beloved Jerry to sleep at Sugar Grove Animal hospital. He had become sick and was in Renal Failure. He was so fluffy and furry that it was difficult to tell that he had lost weight, but one day I went to pet him and I could feel his spine. I was amazed, and feared that after 13 years it may be time to face the inevitable we face with all our pets and our loved ones. I knew when I was in my mid 20's that Jerry would live until my mid 30's and here I was suddenly in my mid 30's. The years go by so fast when you think of them in regards to time you spend with your pet.

Jerry went to the vet where I got the news I didn't want to hear, but knew one day I would; Jerry was dying. The Doctor told me he had no clue how long Jerry would last, only that his time was limited. He told me to take him home and enjoy what time we had left together.

Now I had two other cats in my family, but when Jerry came back home, all the attention went to him. He still ate, and drank and chased Daniel around the apartment, but he was slowing down. He was sleeping more, keeping to himself more.

I kept thinking to myself, "It's time", then Jerry would sort of bounce back and perk up, so I would cancel the Vet appointment I made every week, the appointment that meant I would arrive with Jerry, but I would be going home alone.

One friday evening, probably Feb 27th, I was lying on my bed watching TV. Jerry came into the room, looked up at me, and then jumped onto the bed next to me and sat down. This was not Jerry's normal behavior. He had always liked to keep to himself, but tonight he was there by my side. I slowly put my arm around him and the two of us layed there for 90 minutes on the bed, just being together.

The next morning I called the Vet and told them I wanted to bring Jerry in on monday....he was ready.

Monday February 2nd, I woke up, grabbed a Jerry Garcia T-shirt that had my scent on it and tossed it in the cat carrier. I then picked Jerry up carefully and brought him over to Daniel and Zoe so they could say goodbye.

Then I placed him in the cat carrier. He didn't fight it, he didn't meow. He was ready.

I shook nervously as I drove toward Sugar Grove, keeping the tip of my finger in the cage so that Jerry could smell me or rub against my finger, or whatever. He did nothing, but sit there waiting.

I got him to the Vet and we walked into that cold, empty, and unnerving exam room. I pulled Jerry out of the cage and wrapped him in the Jerry Garcia shirt.

The Vet came in and gave Jerry a pat on the head and scratched him behind his ears. Jerry just sat there. Then the needle came out, and I held Jerry tight as the Vet pinched the back of his skin and injected the sedative into Jerry.

Within seconds Jerry's head started to droop. The Vet told me he'd be back in ten minutes to administer the final dosage that would stop Jerry's heart.

I grabbed a white blanket and placed Jerry on the ground because he tried to stand up and couldn't maintain his composure.

He sat there motionless for a moment then vomited twice. I started to cry.

I cleaned up the vomit, and by the time I was done, Jerry's face was buried in his furry little paws. He was pretty much asleep.

I couldn't stay for the final shot, so I layed down on the ground beside him and told him how much I loved him. I put his head, but he didn't move. I hugged him, but he didn't react. But I kept on telling him how much I loved him and how great a friend he'd always been and that I'd never forget him.

I stood to leave, and as I did, Jerry looked up at me one final time. Acknowledged me, his life long friend, one last time, then buried his face back into his paws and never woke up again.

I turned to leave, but broke down in the worst tears I've ever cried. I went back to him once more and hugged him and kissed him, and whispered, "thanks."

I walked out of the exam room, and never saw my beloved Jerry ever again.

ZOE

My ex-wife and I adopted ZOE around 2006, when she was only 1.5 years old. She had already been knocked up and given birth to a litter. Zoe was adopted from an organization called RAIN. We paid very little for her, and brought her home to meet Jerry and Kitty. Zoe and Kitty hit it right off, but Jerry didn't like other cats so he would harass and basically attack her any chance he could. Carol and I moved into a condo and Zoe's personality started to develop. She seemed to be coming out of her shell. A few months prior to our move, Kitty had to be put to sleep and we adopted baby Annabelle. Zoe seemed more comfortable in the role of mother to younger cats. Jerry, as always kept his distance from the whole lot.

Zoe loved, and still does, to sit on the couch behind your head and pat it with her paws before starting to nibble at your scalp. She then nods off and snores. Over the years, contrary to several dieting attempts, Zoe has gotten fatter. It is funny to watch her waddle sometimes. Most recently she puked three times on the floor then went right back to the food dish and started eating again. When I am slowly waking from a 9 hour slumber, if Zoe is nibbling my face and purring next to me, I know the food dish is empty.

Zoe will look at you a bit cock-eyed, tilting her head ever so slightly which has caused me to believe that Zoe may be slightly retarded, or at least a bit mental. She is loving, and she is cuddly, but she is strange.

She has plenty of dandruff and endlessly sheds hair which pisses me off, but she cuddles and loves and lets me use her as a pillow for my head. She will not respond to her name being called, prompting me somtimes to wonder if she's deaf, but alas she is not becuase sometimes she will look my way when she's called.

In the end, Zoe is adorable, semi-retarded and in need of a diet and some shampoo.

Love ya Zoe.

UPDATE:  With the addition of a third cat ASHES, Zoe now spends most of her time hissing and screeching at Ashes whenever he attempts to mess with her.  She sleeps on my right while Ashes and Daniel sleep on my left. 

Daniel

Daniel was named by my ex-wife Carol after the character Daniel Jackson on Stargate. It was her favorite show. I would never have named such a lovely cat, Daniel, or even an ugly one for that matter. But the cat was gotten for her in response to the sudden death of Kitty, her cat of 8 years.

Daniel, as my photo's show, was born very small. The aemoba's living in his stomach were robbing him of to many nutrients, but we got that fixed right away and he grew. Let me tell you though, those first couple weeks were disgusting with Daniel's non stop farting and horrible diahrea.

Daniel was always my cat. He connected to me to the point where Carol wanted me to stop being nice to him or picking him up. He always wanted to be with me and not her. He must have known I was the one who bought him.

After Carol and I divorced, like any child of divorce, Daniel started acting out. He would pee and shit all over her condo. She finally gave up and gave him to me and to this day Daniel has never had a bathroom related issue.

We spend our days cuddling. Daniel likes to sit on my stomach, or my shoulder and during the cold months he can be found under the covers with me between my legs purring.

Daniel likes to chase his pink "baby" and darts from the dart gun I bought. He also likes to scrape the litter out of the litter box after he uses it, causing me lots of clean up time.

Daniel is also the type of cat who adores strangers. If he has never met you that means as soon as you sit down he will be purring in your lap.

Daniel is a gift from the Cat Gods. I love him.

He is like Zoe's son. She cares for him and cleans his ears, and he snuggles up with her and purrs. They are an inseparable pair.