When President Kennedy was assassinated, I was alive but only in elementary school with a political awareness approximating zero. However, I remember it quite vividly because it had such a profound effect on the adults around me - anything that could get the grown-ups so upset must be something really important!
However, unlike most of my Massachusetts contemporaries I did not grow up to be a Democrat, voting for any corrupt fool as long as they aren't Republican. Yet I still count JFK as one of my political inspirations. He had a certain charisma that transcended ideology - you just had to like the guy and his positive attitude regardless of what his policies were.
Because his death had such a powerful impact on the people who were alive at the time, Kennedy's family is often invited to attend commemorative events on that day. They almost always refuse, giving what I think is a very sound reason. Whatever effect the assassination had on the nation, it must have been even more traumatic for the Kennedy family, who intimately knew the person behind the media image. I don't blame the Kennedy's for not wanting to participate in activities that force them to dwell on the thoughts and emotions they must have felt that day. They usually state that they would rather have commemorative events held on his birthday, and in fact have suggested it be made a national holiday.
That may be going a bit far; I don't believe that any President should be honored with a holiday until one is given to Thomas Jefferson, and whatever his virtues, John Kennedy was no Thomas Jefferson.
Anyway, what gets me thinking about all this is that I forgot Jerry's birthday! Jerry, as in Garcia, as in the Grateful Dead. It was August 1st, and he would have been 65. Actually, he abused himself so with drugs and alcohol that he already looked 65 when he died 12 years ago at 53.
I first heard that Jerry Garcia had died when I tuned in to the Dan Yorke radio show that afternoon. That night I was filling in for Dan as the host on his WGGB-TV40 talk show. My guests that night were Kateri Walsh of Springfield and Yoko Kato of Northampton. However, I devoted my opening monologue to talking about Garcia and the many times the Grateful Dead appeared in this area, and I've always been happy that I was able to address the Deadheads of the Pioneer Valley on television that night.
Anyway, my sister Bev has in her apartment these framed autographs by Marty Balin and David Freiberg of the Jefferson Airplane/Starship. Next to it is a picture of Garcia playing in a field, an image that has special significance to Dead folk.
Garcia claimed that once when he was walking in a field under the influence of a powerful dose of LSD, that God appeared to him and spoke to him. Unfortunately, he was never able to describe later what God had said, but that he believed it was partially deciphered just one crumb at a time every time he played.
I invite you to contemplate this crumb of perfect poetry.
