in rotation today. Still in college. A dozen kids setting in a circle on the lawn, probably four or five acoustic guitars, none of them in tune and nobody cares. They’re belting out a song about somebody’s uncle John who’s in some kind of band. I’m embarrassed because I appear to be the only one who doesn’t know the words. So then I become a huge fan and go on to listen to hundreds of their live recordings. Jerry died just before I realized what an amazing musical genius he was, but his legacy—especially here in Marin County—lives on. The Dead were never a studio band, but this record still gets played, along with _From the Mars Hotel_. The poetry of Hunter and Barlow set to music covering blues, country, Americana as well as psychedelia and jam rock gives those beautiful words a timeless quality as the band experimented with so many different genres and styles. I drove from DC to SF once, just me and my dog Lucy. As we climbed up from Yuma and crested the pass, we heard this: California, a prophet on the burning shore California, I'll be knocking on the golden door Like an angel, standing in a shaft of light Rising up to paradise, I know I'm gonna shine. After returning to California following a seven-year stint in DC, I was definitely “gonna shine.” Though not at all in the way I intended. What a long, strange trip it’s been.