Chapter 8

Rose looked up from her writing. A beggar woman crossed in front of her. She tossed a quarter in a tarnished tin cup held by an old frail hand. Rose could see blue veins, like so many streams of life crisscrossing under translucent skin. Did this poor woman believe in anything? Did she have a god? Did it matter? She had always seen religion as a crutch; Jerry was her god. Nothing else was needed in her life, yet she had always wondered whether someday she would lean on a crutch to stand tall. Little did she know that everyone has a crutch in their life. Her's had been Phil and Jerry, and now all she had was the music.

After singing until my voice was hoarse, I, still unable to sleep decided to pass the rest of the night reading my journal. Flipping around, I found an old ticket stub. There was nothing so remarkable about this, I have been to lots of concerts. All my ticket stubs were in my jacket pocket. Looking closer, I realized that this was the ticket. I remembered walking around the outside of the stadium with my index finger up. That meant I needed a miracle. Shouts echoed around me "I'll give you everything I own if you sell me your ticket!" Variations on that same line came out of everyone's mouth including my own. Phil was close beside me with a look of wild passion in his eyes. I had seen that look before, I had it too. We all were looking for the same thing, that magic ticket that would get us into the concert. People all around me were greeting each other. As the song went, "Strangers stopping strangers just to shake their hand . . ." I was sure no one was going to miracle me. I had heard of it, but I had never known anyone that had actually received a ticket.

Just as I was beginning to pack up and find a tree in which to see the concert I was approached by a man. To this day, I can't remember what he looked like. All I know was that he had kind eyes and a warm aura about him. Maybe he was stoned, it wouldn't have surprised me a bit.

He hugged me and said, "Hey brother, have a nice concert." Of course, I tried to tell him that I wasn't going to the concert, that I had no ticket. But I wasn't able to get a word out before the stranger put a ticket, a miracle in my hand. Somehow, the band had sounded that much sweeter that night.

The realization took its full toll on me then. Up until that moment, it seemed that the band had canceled a concert and we were moving to a new location. But he really was gone. How could the band survive without its leader, the soul of the group? Jerry had always said that the real leader was Pigpen, but he died in the 70's. The band was dead.

So this was it, Haight Ashbury. People were gathered in little groups all over. I had no idea what I was going to do now that I was here. All this time, my mind had been centered on getting to the fabled street corner. Now I had nothing better to do than listen to a distraught man play the drums. I began to consider leaving, and was about to pack it in when Electra and the Carrion Crow told me about a makeshift candle light vigil at Golden Gate Park that night at 6:00. So the rest of the day was passed by making candles and singing with my newly found friends.

The sun was just beginning to set as we all assembled. Blue Boy lit a candle and our "string section" began to tune up. "I lit out from Reno, I was trailed by 20 hounds . . ." Candles were being lit all around, beautiful handmade candles. Someone had gotten candles with the Pope on them and had pasted a picture of Jerry over it. It was amazing to me that all these people were singing in perfect harmony. Hundreds of people; voices were coming from all directions. As if the whole world were a giant choir singing at a memorial service for the greatest figure that ever lived.

"I set out runnin' but I take my time . . ." We even had a drum circle going on. The sun was almost down. I hadn't realized before how beautiful California sunsets were. All this time I had been rushing my fate. Now that I finally stopped to look around, I realized that the whole sky looked like a tie-dyed T-shirt. The greatest shirt of all time, nature's shirt.

The chill in the air dried the warm dripping colors until it was black, all black in every direction. The only light to see by was the hundreds of candles, like so many prayers giving hope to our lost souls. It was cold. Someone threw a blanket over my shoulders.

"So the kids they dance and shake their bones . . ." My guitar was covered in wax. Not that I minded, it gave it personality, but briefly I wondered what Jerry would have thought about it. All the candles in fact, looked already like they had seen better days. As if they were all crying, mourning. It seemed appropriate.

"Ripple in still water . . ." People were starting to leave. Nothing lasts forever, but all I wanted to do was keep playing. It was easy to play, it required no thinking. It was all ending too soon.

"Cosmic Charlie how do you do? . . ." If I stopped, then I would have to start thinking, planning what to do next. Our Jerry deserved better than this. He deserved a memorial that lasted forever. Something that would not fade away.

"Everybody's dancin' in a ring around the sun . . ." All of the candles were going out; we had played all night. A few scattered souls stayed on and sang, but most had gone.

I began to wave my hand quickly through the flame of one of the remaining candles. I no longer worried about burning myself. This was an old game of mine. Slowing my hand just slightly, I allowed myself to be burned. I winced, not because my finger hurt. The hurt was deeper than that. Life was wearing me down. My throat was sore and had I not been so upset, I would probably have been hungry. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. It's fiery glow spread rays of warmth over the rainbow colored remains of the night's events. ". . . Such a long, long time to be gone and a short time to be here."

So that was it, here she was nothin' with nothin' left. After wandering around stoned for a few days she ended up on a park bench. Another song floated through her head. "Picture a bright blue ball just spinnin' spinnin' free. Dizzy with the possibilities." So many years ago, she could have taken her different path. She wouldn't be here now. "There's a fear down here we can't forget. Hasn't got a name just yet. Always awake, always around. Singing ashes, ashes all fall down." Sighing again Rose lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag.