By Todd Lancaster
My 17-year-old daughter made an interesting request recently when she said, “I would like to see some real hippies —before they are all gone.”
Not unlike buffalo, telegrams and wooden ships, old hippies are becoming a thing of the past, but I knew exactly where to find some still thriving in their natural habitat — at a Grateful Dead concert.
The Grateful Dead, who now go by the name Dead and Company, are still selling out huge venues, and the vibe is exactly the same. So we made our pilgrimage to Deer Creek (I will always call it Deer Creek) recently so she could study some old hippies up close. I explained that the show would be a little like a trip to Jurassic Park, except the dinosaurs would be much more mellow and multi-colored.
I explained to her that the only other time I had seen the Dead was about 30 years ago and back then, things could get a little dicey, so be prepared for anything.
Back in the day, when I had a smaller waist, smaller TV and a smaller budget, a buddy of mine and I decided we would finance our long, strange trip to see the Dead in Columbus, Ohio, by selling hamburgers, hot dogs and beer before the show from the back of my truck. As the show got closer (and the rains came), I, perhaps, began to participate more in the surrounding festivities, than in my capitalistic endeavors.
There were plenty of hugs amongst strangers, high fives for no particular reason and greetings and goodbyes to people who would never meet again — but just in case they did, they wanted to leave a good impression.
As we got closer to show time, I realized that I no longer had my truck keys. Let me just say: on planet Earth there is no greater buzzkill than being in mud, at a Dead show and knowing that the next phone call you had to make would be to your father five hours away to ask him to bring you a spare key.
My dad doesn’t follow the Dead and he would never be considered “progressive” by any definition, although he was in a slightly out-of-the-mainstream organization back in the 1950s, one with its own set of traditions and social mores; they were called — “1st Marines, 5th Battalion.”
Luckily, the entire amount of positive karma of 20,000 Dead fans must have flowed my way for just a second, because I found my keys — just hanging in the driver’s side door lock.
Rule one for my recent Dead trip with my daughter — two sets of car keys.
Before we arrived at the concert on Wednesday, we met some random Deadheads in a Noblesville restaurant. She was amazed at how polite and interested people were in her having a great experience, as so many of them felt like they were sharing something that was very important to them.
At the show, we enjoyed perfect weather and perfect seats, where again she was amazed at the friendliness. I explained that the sociability was genuine, but may have had a degree of “enhancement.”
Simply put, the clothing, costumes, uniforms and attire that make up the lawn section of a Dead show create a Technicolor palette that paints a different picture of this little slice of America. If diversity is one of the things that makes America “Grate,” then Noblesville was the most American city in the state that night.
There were plenty of hugs amongst strangers, high fives for no particular reason and greetings and goodbyes to people who would never meet again — but just in case they did, they wanted to leave a good impression.
I think she was expecting a much more political tone, sort of a group of angry 1960s radicals being fueled by $16 micro-brewed pale ales. However, that is never the vibe. There were certainly people there involved with causes, but generally, they simply explained what they were doing and if you wanted to help, it would be appreciated.
It is easy to look at folks that make the Grateful Dead a way of life with a degree of skepticism. There are certainly some very sketchy elements and there is no arguing that particular lifestyle is a tributary flowing away from the mainstream.
But in today’s toxic political climate where opinions are so entrenched, it’s nice to occasionally find a tribe whose philosophical bulwarks are based on kindness, tolerance and a general sense of community.
It’s not a bad place to start.
The only thing that could be added to that manifesto: Always bring two sets of truck keys.