It’s hard for me to recall what stopped me from going to The Grateful Dead show here in the SLC back in the early 90’s. Probably a girl, or perhaps my own reluctance at that time to see a concert solo.

Sadly, it was one of the last shows Jerry did before his death. Nowadays things are different though, and with Bob Weir and Ratdog being the headliner for my first Red Butte concert of the summer, I was more than ready to get my jam on.

Deadheads today are as loyal to Bob Weir as they have been since the 1960’s. Dirtbag hippies flooded every conceivable inch of Red Butte. I had a group of old guys sit by me, that had been seeing the Grateful Dead since the 1970’s. I found myself included in a night of revelry, at least as rambunctious that one is when your discussions cover topics such as ” two years to retirement….”

Two long sets were on tap for the evening, from a twenty minute “Shakedown Street” opener, to my favorite songs ” looks like rain”, ” Maggie’s farm” and “throwing stones” that truly brought out the essential Grateful Dead persona.

Jam On Bobbie. Jam On.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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