It’s not fair to real Deadheads to call myself one. I didn’t know all the names of the songs, or follow them around the United States, or compile lists of songs played at each show. I simply enjoyed the music and the feelings evoked while listening. It’s funny that today, if you say you listened to The Grateful Dead, it seems to say something about you. Perhaps it was the drugs. Perhaps it was the gray haired, Jerry Garcia who played the guitar with a missing finger. Or perhaps it was the type of dancing famous at the shows, that slow moving, sway with the beat, trancey-kind-of-dance that could go on for a half an hour with just one song. I loved it all.
I’ve recently been reminded of that feeling while riding my Peloton bike. Jenn Sherman, an instructor who is close to my age, and is Peloton’s very first cycling instructor, has two rides dedicated to The Grateful Dead. Given the aforementioned trance-dance, it was impossible to imagine that the music could become a 85-95 cadence, 50-resistance ride, simulating pedaling up a hill with speed and power. My Grateful Dead never made me work that hard. My Grateful Dead was slower and easy-going.
I realized while listening to Jenn’s enthusiasm and pedaling along with her well-choreographed ride, that The Grateful Dead unleashed my happy spirit. I could feel myself up and out of the seat, smiling and singing along remembering years ago these same feelings of joy and freedom. It’s possible that this is why people spent years traveling to different concerts (no two ever the same), often talking to fellow Deadheads comparing recent shows, waiting in long lines, content, eager, high on life (and other things that became legal years later.)
One summer, the year before my Junior year in college, I drove from Chagrin Falls, Ohio to Jackson Hole, Wyoming to pick up a friend and continue a journey to the University of Denver. Both of us were transfers from a small school outside of Boston; both of us enrolled in the school sight unseen, a fact that we laugh about now. Free spirits, together on the road heading towards our new lives. Before we pulled into our new dorm, we had one pitstop: The famed Red Rocks to see The Grateful Dead.
I remember my purple, flowered gauze skirt and the matching purple terrycloth tank top. I vaguely remember a cowboy hat (I loved that look) and who knows what was on my feet. I remember people everywhere, like the boundaries were stretched wider than usual, amongst the smoked-filled evening air, backdropped by the Denver skyline creating the beauty that Red Rocks is known for. While I cannot remember individual songs, I have a clear memory of the riffs The Dead spontaneously played for long periods of time. The crowd would sway and dance, feeling connected by the honor to be hearing the never to be duplicated riff. I remember people were happy, peaceful and accepting of everyone.
Thank you Jenn Sherman for having the idea to choreograph two Peloton rides to this iconic band who traveled for thirty years dedicated to entertaining their many fans, the Deadheads. It was interesting to revisit the music in this way, on a stationary bike with earphones. We are lucky, as humans , that our memories can be reactivated by our senses. The music from the Grateful Dead reignites memories of happiness, acceptance and connection. Experiences that make me want to keep on Truckin’.