Today I listened to an old Dave Matthews Band show from August 9, 1995. This was the day that Jerry Garcia died, I had just taken the Bar Exam, and, three years later, it would be my wedding day.
This is what music is all about for me. I remember that exact day so clearly — driving in my old car, a.k.a. “Solid Gold”, when I heard that Jerry had died. I was bummed that I had never gotten around to seeing the Dead in concert. I was never really into their music, but I have always loved the pot-smoking Dead Heads. It was on my list of things to do, but darn law school got in the way.
The other thing that occurred to me was that, in 1995, I was barely a DMB fan yet. Otherwise, I probably would have been at that show, which was in Eugene….and was a great show. My DMB memories of that 1995 summer, though, consist of a Madison Park apartment and the guy who would, exactly three years later, become my husband.
On that August day in 1995, I had no idea where I was heading, or how big a part of my life DMB’s music would become. What if I had been at that Eugene show? Or what if I had gone to a Dead show before Jerry died? Would things have turned out differently somehow? (or, to borrow a line from Dave…..”could I have been anyone other than me?”)
And yet, of course, the beauty was in not knowing what would unfold. The years since then have been filled with love, great music, and more happiness than I could have asked for. Many years and countless concerts, and two kids later — I listen to Dave from long ago, and marvel at it all.
Corduroy Notes 