"My initiation came in the Winter of 72 in Wichita, Kansas. Strong grass and live dead put me into a stoned trance. Staring at Garcia, something popped in my mind as I realized that he was also staring at me. I beamed a huge, uncontollable grin at him. He winked back and jerked his guitar neck at me twice. I felt bolts of energy strike me and my grin was fixed in place for the rest of the concert. I've been a deadhead every since. My mother will never understand."
And if you're wondering what kind of reception we should strive to give to the Dead this saturday, here's another one:
I've been to a lot of concerts, a whole lot of concerts, thousands of concerts, concerts with new bands, concerts with old favorites, festivals with hundreds of thousands of people in the audience, but when those house lights went off, I heard something I've never heard in my life. It wasn't so much that the ovation was a loud ovation. It was very loud to be sure, but it was this TONE. There was a sound in the yell the crowd gave that was unmistakeable. The sound of pure unadulterated, unfettered Love. Shameless and fierce. Pouring out endlessly in one unbroken roar. And it was, no kidding, the most moving sound I've ever heard in my life. I will remember it until the day I die. Such affection!