Picture a bright blue ball

 just spinning, spinning free......

it's dizzying with possibilities ( Weir-Barlow)

now picture a stage if you will....anyone that you like, this is fantasy Island........it's MSG for me.....But the old barn in Hempstead was a good one too......Red Rocks works.......the SPAC........the Greek in LA or any town USA.

The room is spinning....the band is winding down another second set gem.....could be Black Peter or Playin in the Band.....but for me it's Terrapin ......and the music begins to drift....the beat waffles across the floor like a cloud of smoke from something good........the rugs rise before your eyes......the green, purple and pale blue lights behind the band illuminate dramatically,  from your feet to the rafters and then go dark......the band silhouettes are only visible because of the rotunda lights behind the stage and between the sections......dancers twirl in the artificial moonlight and steal the precious brightness.......Brent stands up at the keyboards, and then he's gone..........the locomotive however, rolls on.......still winding down......Jerry turns sideways.....mutters something underneath his breath....looks back at the audience, winks to a few in the front rows and vanishes behind the drums.......the locomotive is sputtering, a few chinks in the armor  , odd sounds and feedback, loud wails and reverberations........and Mr Lesh raises the strap of his massive Bass Guitar above and over his head , he places his weapon of mass destruction  alongside the wall of sound,  and bounces down the stairs.........leaving us with ACE....gone are the short shorts and youthful frame....wild white hair witha stash and beard to match, homage to a hero...his back to the crowd.....eeking out bizarre noises from his guitar as he communicates to his bandmates and 20,000 more.....it's an odd melody, a glimpse into the SPACE that awaits.....but then just as quickly as he emerged and splashed across the sky....the man in the poncho and safari cap is taking a bow....he too is gone.......and we are left with Mickey & Bill the Drummer.......and it's about to get weird......that's the living, breathing dream we are all trapped in this day.

Thanks for everything Bobby........60 glorious years...the funniest guy i never met....i wonder what lies beyond this blue ball......and i hope i'm there to see what they play coming out of Space

And the politicians throwing stones
So the kids, they dance, they shake their bones
'Cause it's all too clear, we're on our own
Singing, "Ashes, ashes all fall down
Ashes, ashes, all fall down"