Why'd he have to die?

As I've been uploading our entire compact disc collection to iTunes, I've come across some music I haven't listened to in years. Some decades. Pink Floyd brings a bit of a sting when thinking back to high school.

Right now I'm in the process of putting my So Many Roads discs on board. Next in the stack is the compilation my dad put together for me of shows we enjoyed together. One of the shows I replaced Dad with the boyfriend at the time - the second-to-last Soldier Field show in 1995, and one of the discs is the final song from the last show ever.

While my friends were screaming at the New Kids on the Block tour bus, I was learning to appreciate the Grateful Dead with my dad. We can look back and consider how this might not have been in my best interest, but it provided a great foundation for learning who I am now as an adult. And mother. Can't say I'd take my kids to a Dead show, but alas.

Point being, my dear ones, the Grateful Dead provided a genre of music all their own. I'm not writing an editorial here, just simply reflecting. Whatever I'd have to say has already been writ. Quite frankly, I miss them. I did a Dead show in the early 2000s and enjoyed it despite my fellow fans shouting their discontent with Joan Osborne doing what she could with Stella Blue.

No offense, neither Phish nor Panic drew me in. I was a loyal Dead Head and I'd be damned if I was going to replace a band people likened to me.

Now I'm left with scattered bootlegs, compilation albums, and live shows of a band I adored before I even had my period.

To this, I thank Jerry and David for Not for Kids Only, appropriate for this phase of my life.