Day of Reckoning
The sun is high in the cloudless sky, the temperature is in the 90's and so is the humidity. It is surprisingly still in spite of the immediate proximity of the South Carolina beach and its unfulfilled promise of a cooling breeze. I've wrapped my light-colored shirt around my head like some sort of floppy turban to try to absorb sweat and shield the sun. It doesn't do much good. I look over at the bales of dried pine straw that I still have to break up and spread on my parents' yard. My cousin is helping me, but I know I'll be doing my fair share of breaking open and spreading the bales of sharp, sticky needles.
I've managed to get the headphones of my Sony Walkman to sit under the shirt, and have the Walkman itself clipped to my shorts. This is a one of the original cassette "Walkmen," loaded with the second cassette of the double cassette "album" called Reckoning by the Grateful Dead. It became one of my favorite albums that summer and remains so, partially due to the quality of the music, and partially due to the fact that it was recorded during a series of shows that the Dead played at Radio City Music Hall and in San Fransisco.
Why does that matter? Well, because I was priveleged to see one of the shows at Radio City from the second row. My friend Ned's father had somehow gotten these tickets and passed them along to him because of course, his dad had no interest in seeing such a band. We really didn't either, as neither one of us was a fan of the Dead at the time, but we agreed that it really didn't matter who was playing, second row seats at Radio City were not something to be passed up. I was certainly awed as we walked into the legendary theater, and was excited to be going to my second rock concert. It was the first one I went to on my own, as my first show was a Jethro Tull show I went to years before with my father. So here we were, three 15 year-old guys sitting down in second row seats at Radio City, about to see one of the most legendary live bands of all time. We didn't realize that at the time, being the young, perspective-deprived, pre-internet kids we were. We also had no idea that the Grateful Dead playing acoustic was a rare and special thing. But as the band took the stage, and Phil Lesh set up right in front of us, and they launched into the acoustic strains of "Iko Iko," we quickly discovered why they are considered one of the best. In those moments of that first song, I was transformed from someone who knew about the Dead, but wasn't really a fan, and didn't "get" their music, to someone who became a big fan and really appreciated their music. I wish I could say that I remembered every detail of that show, but I am not that kind of fan. I do remember enjoying myself immensely, but what I remember most clearly was that first song.
So needless to say, when I discovered that they had made those series of shows into a double acoustic album, I got a hold of it as soon as I could, both in cassette and album format. I only wish there was a way to know which shows the songs were recorded at, so I could know whether I was there for one of them. Perhaps there is something out there that would tell me, but I would then have to figure out which of the Radio City shows I was at, and I am not sure I remember.... So this is how I find myself listening to Deep Elem Blues and Cassidy during the long hot summer of landscaping with my cousin during the vernal break of my fifteenth year. The sweet strains of Cassidy feel like the only thing keeping me sane during my broiling work.
Fly to the sea, bird,
Scatter like lost words,
Wheel to the storm and fly
An attractive alternative to my situation to be sure. I don't remember, but I expect that I did eventually get to cool off in that nearby sea.
Why do I recall these events from long ago? Well, mainly because Reckoning has been recently released on iTunes, which was a happy-making moment for me, as I have a bit of a history with this album. I have owned all the variations of media of this album: vinyl, cassette, and CD (I don't think they made an 8-track). In each case, I have lost one of the double albums. Never sure why or how, but they disappeared. So I have felt a bit of a curse about it, and have occasionally looked to find the CD again over the last couple of years, only to find that it seems to have ceased to be produced. So of course I went to iTunes to see if it was available, which it was not. So I had sort of resigned myself to hoping that I could find a CD on eBay or something. But thanks to an email from iTunes, I discovered that a lot of Grateful Dead music had finally been put up on iTunes, including Reckoning. What I discovered when I checked it out that they had also posted a remastered and expanded edition of Reckoning, with alternate versions of many songs and some additions. Now "Iko Iko" was never on Reckoning, to my disappointment, as you might imagine. But I saw that a version of it had been included in the expanded edition of the "album." It was not long before I pushed the button to purchase the expanded edition, and was soon listening to "Iko Iko" with chills of remembrance running up my spine. Someone interrupted me before the end of the song, but no matter - a great moment nonetheless.
I had intended to write another post about meaning in life and how we find it, but I think that this segues nicely enough into this story to just continue on. Now, Reckoning has meaning for me for a number of reasons: it takes me back to one of my first concerts. But it also takes me back to a brutal day of laying pinestraw. But that day that stuck in my memory was one of many I worked that summer, all equally as difficult but perhaps not as memorable. Difficult as that landscaping job was, it was also something I got to do with my cousin, who was my best friend for a number of years, and was my best man at our wedding. And even though the work was difficult, the memories also include having a lot of fun at an idyllic barrier island in South Carolina. So I cannot complain too much. But the point here is meaning. The album is imbued with meaning for me because of my life experiences. Does this mean anything to anyone else? Maybe not. Probably not. But it does to me. I got to thinking about finding one's own personal meanings in life when I saw a relatively random email from a GIS publisher that mentioned another publication called Ten Links. I think Ten Links was being taken over by someone or something. But it gave me a moment of meaning, in that I had been following one of the writers from Ten Links over to Directions magazine and had corresponded a bit with her over the years. So this bit of career nostalgia had some meaning for me.
All of which got me wondering why it meant something to me, and how we find meaning in life. We can find meaning in many things in life of course. But does that matter to anyone else? I can't imagine that my little bit of meaning from the Ten Links mention has much meaning to anyone else. But maybe that is OK. People write and talk about things that have meaning to them, and it can result in a shared human experience to those who read or see their work. But I also took the next step, and wondered about the cliched and hackneyed "meaning of life." It seems quite clear that as humans we pursue things in life that have meaning to us. I wondered whether the pursuit of meaning was a large part of the meaning of life. This is an idea that is not clearly formed for me, but I thought it worth writing down. Sometimes things that start out not having meaning can end up having quite a bit of meaning. I had no idea at the time that going to a Radio City show of a band I really didn't know would end up unspooling a thread of meaning that ran through my life. Maybe living a life in pursuit of meaning is enough. I hope so.
I've managed to get the headphones of my Sony Walkman to sit under the shirt, and have the Walkman itself clipped to my shorts. This is a one of the original cassette "Walkmen," loaded with the second cassette of the double cassette "album" called Reckoning by the Grateful Dead. It became one of my favorite albums that summer and remains so, partially due to the quality of the music, and partially due to the fact that it was recorded during a series of shows that the Dead played at Radio City Music Hall and in San Fransisco.
Why does that matter? Well, because I was priveleged to see one of the shows at Radio City from the second row. My friend Ned's father had somehow gotten these tickets and passed them along to him because of course, his dad had no interest in seeing such a band. We really didn't either, as neither one of us was a fan of the Dead at the time, but we agreed that it really didn't matter who was playing, second row seats at Radio City were not something to be passed up. I was certainly awed as we walked into the legendary theater, and was excited to be going to my second rock concert. It was the first one I went to on my own, as my first show was a Jethro Tull show I went to years before with my father. So here we were, three 15 year-old guys sitting down in second row seats at Radio City, about to see one of the most legendary live bands of all time. We didn't realize that at the time, being the young, perspective-deprived, pre-internet kids we were. We also had no idea that the Grateful Dead playing acoustic was a rare and special thing. But as the band took the stage, and Phil Lesh set up right in front of us, and they launched into the acoustic strains of "Iko Iko," we quickly discovered why they are considered one of the best. In those moments of that first song, I was transformed from someone who knew about the Dead, but wasn't really a fan, and didn't "get" their music, to someone who became a big fan and really appreciated their music. I wish I could say that I remembered every detail of that show, but I am not that kind of fan. I do remember enjoying myself immensely, but what I remember most clearly was that first song.
So needless to say, when I discovered that they had made those series of shows into a double acoustic album, I got a hold of it as soon as I could, both in cassette and album format. I only wish there was a way to know which shows the songs were recorded at, so I could know whether I was there for one of them. Perhaps there is something out there that would tell me, but I would then have to figure out which of the Radio City shows I was at, and I am not sure I remember.... So this is how I find myself listening to Deep Elem Blues and Cassidy during the long hot summer of landscaping with my cousin during the vernal break of my fifteenth year. The sweet strains of Cassidy feel like the only thing keeping me sane during my broiling work.
Fly to the sea, bird,
Scatter like lost words,
Wheel to the storm and fly
An attractive alternative to my situation to be sure. I don't remember, but I expect that I did eventually get to cool off in that nearby sea.
Why do I recall these events from long ago? Well, mainly because Reckoning has been recently released on iTunes, which was a happy-making moment for me, as I have a bit of a history with this album. I have owned all the variations of media of this album: vinyl, cassette, and CD (I don't think they made an 8-track). In each case, I have lost one of the double albums. Never sure why or how, but they disappeared. So I have felt a bit of a curse about it, and have occasionally looked to find the CD again over the last couple of years, only to find that it seems to have ceased to be produced. So of course I went to iTunes to see if it was available, which it was not. So I had sort of resigned myself to hoping that I could find a CD on eBay or something. But thanks to an email from iTunes, I discovered that a lot of Grateful Dead music had finally been put up on iTunes, including Reckoning. What I discovered when I checked it out that they had also posted a remastered and expanded edition of Reckoning, with alternate versions of many songs and some additions. Now "Iko Iko" was never on Reckoning, to my disappointment, as you might imagine. But I saw that a version of it had been included in the expanded edition of the "album." It was not long before I pushed the button to purchase the expanded edition, and was soon listening to "Iko Iko" with chills of remembrance running up my spine. Someone interrupted me before the end of the song, but no matter - a great moment nonetheless.
I had intended to write another post about meaning in life and how we find it, but I think that this segues nicely enough into this story to just continue on. Now, Reckoning has meaning for me for a number of reasons: it takes me back to one of my first concerts. But it also takes me back to a brutal day of laying pinestraw. But that day that stuck in my memory was one of many I worked that summer, all equally as difficult but perhaps not as memorable. Difficult as that landscaping job was, it was also something I got to do with my cousin, who was my best friend for a number of years, and was my best man at our wedding. And even though the work was difficult, the memories also include having a lot of fun at an idyllic barrier island in South Carolina. So I cannot complain too much. But the point here is meaning. The album is imbued with meaning for me because of my life experiences. Does this mean anything to anyone else? Maybe not. Probably not. But it does to me. I got to thinking about finding one's own personal meanings in life when I saw a relatively random email from a GIS publisher that mentioned another publication called Ten Links. I think Ten Links was being taken over by someone or something. But it gave me a moment of meaning, in that I had been following one of the writers from Ten Links over to Directions magazine and had corresponded a bit with her over the years. So this bit of career nostalgia had some meaning for me.
All of which got me wondering why it meant something to me, and how we find meaning in life. We can find meaning in many things in life of course. But does that matter to anyone else? I can't imagine that my little bit of meaning from the Ten Links mention has much meaning to anyone else. But maybe that is OK. People write and talk about things that have meaning to them, and it can result in a shared human experience to those who read or see their work. But I also took the next step, and wondered about the cliched and hackneyed "meaning of life." It seems quite clear that as humans we pursue things in life that have meaning to us. I wondered whether the pursuit of meaning was a large part of the meaning of life. This is an idea that is not clearly formed for me, but I thought it worth writing down. Sometimes things that start out not having meaning can end up having quite a bit of meaning. I had no idea at the time that going to a Radio City show of a band I really didn't know would end up unspooling a thread of meaning that ran through my life. Maybe living a life in pursuit of meaning is enough. I hope so.
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