We Will Survive: A Deadhead’s Reflection on 2020
It Must Be Getting Early; Clocks Are Running Late
The past ten months have literally felt like a blur; a free-fall into a rabbit hole. Half the time I haven’t even known what month it is. While I’m normally a resilient and mainly optimistic human, the fact that Daylight Saving Time was forced upon us a last week nearly threw me into a panic. Without the saving grace of the meager daylight that the cloudy Pacific Northwest offers, the next 8 months of pandemic living feel virtually unendurable from the vantage point of November.
It’s surreal, to even try to make sense of it all, since all of the predictable mileposts have been removed.
The last thing I can clearly remember— before the world shifted on its axis— was stepping into the Mexican sunshine in mid-January for a week of Deadhead nirvana, only to return home to Washington to the alarming discovery that the first domestic outbreak of a ‘novel’ coronavirus had landed in our small city of Kirkland, and had sunk its talons in the healthcare system where I’ve worked in community hospice for the last 7 years. As calls flooded in from worried friends and family across the country, concerned how “we” were coping and staying safe, I was stunned to realize that it was an impossibility for people outside of our state to comprehend that Covid-19 was uncontainable, and would momentarily arrive in their town, changing life as they knew it.
It has felt nearly impossible to write in any meaningful way since then.
But this morning, however, I wake to election results that bring relief, followed by elation, and tentatively allow myself the first glimmer of hope for our country’s future, after 3 years, 292 days, 7 hours, 32 minutes and 37 seconds.
stephanie Keith/getty
No More Time To Tell How—This is the Season of What
William Tell has stretched his bow till it will not stretch no furthermore,
And it may require a change that hasn’t come before. No more time to tell how; this is the season of what.
Now is the time of returning with our thought jewels polished and gleaming. Now is the time past believing the child has relinquished the rein.
Lesh/Hunter
The steely November sky—a backdrop for blazing red maples and golden oaks—leaves no doubt that the season of transition has indeed arrived. Never before have the words of The Eleven resounded more truly than on this morning, November 7, 2020.
The losses that our country, and the world at large have suffered are staggering. The shuttering of businesses and the resulting economic insecurity; the extreme isolation of the elderly, immune compromised, and the marginalized, the tens of millions of students, educators and parents who have had to repeatedly adjust to untenable circumstances. Then there are the highly personal losses, including the cancellation of critical life celebrations and milestones; weddings, graduations, birthdays, and even the necessity to postpone funeral ceremonies. And, as if the pandemic wasn’t already our worst nightmare, we simultaneously witnessed protests and demonstrations of outrage and grief over the continued murders of so many African-Americans by the hand of white police officers, spurred on by the death of George Floyd.
In the midst of the strife, we tentatively carved out a vague “new normal”, with various phases of categorical re-openings, when the wildfires and unprecedented smoke arrived in California, Oregon and Washington in late summer, making an already challenging situation more outrageous. It seemed like an impossibility, a cosmic joke of unparalleled proportions. It’s an understatement to say that we’re worn down, after all these months on the roller coaster of despair, without an adult leader to provide strategy and hope.
Josh Edelson
I’m going to speak for my clan, and assert that the way that Deadheads traditionally cope with real life challenges (as well as to celebrate life’s joys) is to let loose at a live music show. While it feels self-indulgent (in light of the pandemic and political divide) to bring up the tremendous loss of the simple freedom to gather together to listen, watch, embrace, dance, and celebrate the music that feeds us, I’m standing behind this belief, for good or ill.
Grateful Friends ❤️⚡️💙
So then, how does a Deadhead survive the apocalypse of no live music, no gatherings, cancellation of all the scheduled seasonal tours, and no end in sight? We take inspiration from the lyrics and music of the Grateful Dead, and we try a little bit harder. We take turns holding each other up, through real life hardships, and celebrate each other’s successes. We share music, stream shows together, send each other care packages of pins, stickers, clothing, and toys. The various pages and groups on social media revolving around the Dead and other related jam-bands have been our lifeline, as it’s often literally our only connection to each our friends spread across the nation, united by our love for the music and band(s).
Speaking for myself, I’ve been around long enough to have made connections with Deadheads from across the country since 1978, when I first started seeing shows. Like so many of you, I have lots of little pockets of GD related social circles, often, but not always overlapping. During the pandemic, following PITS 2020, somehow I managed to find a spectacular small group of diverse deadheads, many of whom I have only briefly met in real life, who are growing our friendship, love each other deeply, support each other when needed, laugh at ourselves constantly, and stream shows every Saturday night while Zooming.
It’s been a lifesaver, a heart-warmer, and an utter surprise. We’ve even banded together to hire world class musicians and performers semi-regularly for private virtual shows that allow us to experience the shared joy of community and music. It’s often like herding cats, and we come and go as “real life” dictates, but it is truly the most astounding and unexpected bright light during these dark days.
amazing GF pin: Mark Green and Marc Koenigsberger
Other Friends have shared their joy in attending drive-in and socially distant concerts, and we’ve all been streaming live shows online, both from regional talent (Andy Coe) as well as nationally known (JRAD, Goose) performers. The expansion of streaming platforms for music and interviews, includes Relix, Fans.live Deadheadland, #saveourstages, Facebook Live and Shakedown Stream (filled with live commentary and interviews hosted by David Lemieux and Gary Lambert), plus many others.
Although we certainly will not have the ability to gather normally for live shows until a vaccine is perfected, we will survive this darkness by sharing our light with each other… until we can all be together again.
“Walk together little children
We won't ever have to worry
Through this world of trouble
We gotta love one another
Let us take our fellow man by the hand
Try to help him to understand
We can all be together forever and ever
When we make it to the promised land” (Charles B. Johnson)
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