The fabric of my daily life is largely woven from the silken thread of the Grateful Dead. This is true despite the fact that I live a fairly mainstream life, with a professional career in a field that I love, and a happy marriage to a man who is not a Deadhead. I’ll always wearing a metaphorical psychedelic tie-dyed layer underneath my clothing.

Throughout the day, my head is filled with music and lyrics which speak to me like nothing else. My adventure started an unbelievable 40 years ago, and although Jerry’s been gone for 24 long years, our community shows no signs of faltering. The music has proven to be stronger than any one individual, because it’s in all of us now.

It all rolls into one.

Most of us could write a book about this rich tapestry, and at the center of it, along with Garcia, is indisputably, Robert Hunter, who passed on Monday evening, September 23, 2019.

Having just finished the audio version of Dennis McNally’s A Long Strange Trip: The Inside History of the Grateful Dead, I was well aware of the intricacies of Hunter’s history and relationship with the band, and was filled with renewed respect for him—but I have to admit that my immediate reaction to learning about his death was initially less dramatic than many of my friends. I figured that the man was almost 80 years old, had lived a rich and wonderful life, and that his time had come. It took me nearly a week to be able to process the magnitude of our loss.

You Can’t Stare At The Sun