Believing(ish) it’s still a wonderful world out there – right? Grateful for still chooglin along.
PS was at this JGB show, hitchhiked there (from maybe Rhode Island or something) with Richie Murrill (former of Utah, now Hawaii i heard) and got ride in a red VW bus called “Althea” with a bolted on wooden sidedoor. Drove through a huge rain storm including stalling out in a deep water somewhere in countryside – had to get out and push in dang near crotch high water – made it to the show like a soggy dog, stashed backpack in some private school girls Honda and scored a miracle ticket just in time. Bruce Hornsby came along to play as well. After the show,… well that’s a whole other story.
evidence of the aforementioned bus…
was one of those nights where everything worked out just perfect after a rollicking trip to get there – JGB shows were so great too since didn’t have the full-on circus of frat boys and townies who’d invaded the scene by that time. was good times but not outta hand. the arena was smaller than i usually saw GD (most all shows were outdoor west coast) so the sound was dialed in and rather intimate. great song selection for my taste too.
Chris GeeWhat I remember about JGB shows was the heart….pure joy …Jerry playing free and loose …and the ^^^ above mentioned ..Warfield theatre shows always top of the list
Dave OlsonMan, I never did get to see a show at the Warfield… My overall count isn’t that impressive since when I heard them sing “eyes of the world” I took that as a signal to buy one-way tickets elsewhere to go go go (And spread the vibe everywhere I went) – I made every show count that’s for sure. And I’m with you on the Jerry band shows, they were very special for me
Returning to Japan for the first time since working as a mushroom farmer in the Tottori-ken mountains decades previous, Dave rambles on about the circumstance – then and now – while wandering near his pal’s goat farm. Riffs include: arriving in the snow and getting settled, bailing on job, hitch-hiking around islands, falling in love(ish), eating okonomiyaki, soaking in hot springs and living simultaneously in the future and past. Also persimmons and goats, pigs, cows et al.
When I was growing up, Dad often spoke of his Chevy Malibu SS – his favourite car.So, while on his death bed, I asked him to tell the story. He speaks about acquiring the vehicle, the budget, the deal, the financing terms and oh, also about the car and how he enjoyed having a reliable and cool vehicle as a young married man creating a life, after growing up poor in Regina, Saskatchewan, then heading off to BYU in Utah. The story is interrupted by a nurse bringing lunch and news. He died 10 days later.
++ Continued Exploits and Dispatches from one Thor Aronson ++
Over a week now in Istanbul, just waiting for evidence his quarry was here, or had stopped through at least. But, not a lead until a well-bribed cleaner a 4th floor walk-up hotel sent word (through contacts at the port) of a passport matching his vague description.
“A Canadian?” thought Thor, “they’re not even their own damn country! Just another dominion of the damn British!”
A closer look revealed his Greek heritage which indicated he had at least two passports to travel under. The stamp s showed a circuratous route through various Mediterranean, Levant and Baltic enclaves.
Yet “Gus” is no TE Lawrence or even Wilfred Thesinger, no way he could be rambling through these remote places without assistance from a fluent Arabic speaker, various fixers and sea captains. But still, Thor was at least a step behind… if not more.
With myriad ships going in and out of the gateway to Europe and Asia, he could be just about anywhere, but most definitely he was at sea as the rail lines were still rebuilding from frequent bombings, likely effectuated by those nefarious Brits.
No matter, after contacting an inside source at the Canadian Consulate (of course sequestered down a hallway at the UK embassy) Thor knew the passport was a fake, and even the name might not be accurate, but… The face was definitely the mug he was after.
Thor sat down stone steps between the grand souk and the blue mosque, lit a cigar and waited for another smoke signal. If he was careless to leave the passport behind in the hotel safe, no doubt something else would emerge. The bribes were paid, the photo circulated and soon Gus would tip another card. Inhaling deeply, Thor mattered, “fucking Canadians, when will they get it together and become their own country?”