The day the (hippee) music died

I'm not saying there's anything intrinsically wrong with the Grateful Dead.  Part of the reason that hippees are simultaneously fascinating and disturbing to me, is that sometimes I think, "there but for the grace of god go I".

Given my life long hatred of school, and employment difficulties, hippee might have been a viable career choice, and it was mainly my talent and interest in the arts, that saved me from a tribal tattoo and a life in a rusty van. 

Even then I had to drop out of art school, live in a VW Rabbit, and look for both myself and America. It turned out that Adam and America are where you find them. I dropped back into school, (on my parents dime) and bided my time in the metal shop until graduation. 

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIP!!!
Jerry!

Another risk factor, as far as becoming a hippee, is my mothers affinity for whole grains, her gentle nature, and the fact that she has more than enough land for me to pitch a tee-pee on. 

Jerry Garcia was the pied piper to disenfranchised fools like me, and whether it was my apathy, my musical oblivion, or not owning a bong, something shielded me from a stroll down the prim-rose path.

I had an elfin friend in long island, a couple of blocks from my fathers house. I don't remember the circumstances, but I was riding out to Huntington with him in his dorky Futura, so he could run an errand. 

He let me out on Huntington's Main street, so I could kill some time while he took care of business. Huntington is boring, and I spent most of the time rubbing my mitts on the merchandise of the local head shop.

Huntington is not a very hip town, and besides the raggedy shop girl, no one was in the shop but me. (It was a DEAD head shop) So I was feeling the hemp bracelets, and chatting with the shop girl about her love of following the Grateful Dead. I'm all, "Don't you think you've got all you're eggs in one basket? I mean, what happens when Jerry Garcia dies? Then what?" She get's this horrified expression,"I hope that doesn't happen for at least 10 more years! There are so many more Dead shows I want to see!"

Just then, My pal pokes his head in the door. I'm like "well bye!"  And we hop in his car and drive off down the block. He turns on the radio. "Jerry Garcia has just died..."

I'm a psychic!!!  "Go back go back go back to the head shop!" 

I Burst in the door of the head shop, "Guess what?!" 

 "I know! I know!",shop girl wailed, "just leave!" 

 And I did leave. (but as a psychic)