Why Further?

The rites have been performed, the gods appeased. The ceremony is complete. The boat is now mine. And her name is Further.

I actually declared her name when I announced my purchase back in November. But the cold weather prevented the local graphics folks here in Annapolis from doing the work until just this past Tuesday. And once they applied the actual vinyl, protocol demanded keeping the name under wraps until a proper renaming ceremony could be performed. That meant as soon as possible because I couldn’t take the boat out (and it has been warm enough lately that the cove and creek leading to Chesapeake Bay have finally thawed) until the old name was exorcised and the new one christened. That the weather forecast for today, four days later, was nice — sunny and high 50s — sealed the deal.

Then I posted a photo of the covered-over transom on Facebook in an announcement of the impending renaming and friends started speculating about what the new name might (or should) be. Some suggested silly names that had been internet memes (Boaty McBoatface…really?!) while many suggested something referencing my late dog, Spooner. One friend remembered my earlier declaration and asked about the name; the showman in me quickly deleted his comment to keep the speculation going.

But Further it is. And Further it shall be. Why?

Well, for starters, I’ve had the name in mind ever since I started daydreaming as a kid about my future boat. When I thought about what I might call her, I kept coming back to what I wanted my boat to do: transport me — physically, spiritually, intellectually — to new adventures, new worlds, new lives. I realized Ken Kesey and the Merry Pranksters had the same goal in mind when they named their psychedelically painted school bus “Further” and made that the bus’ destination sign.

Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead (house band for the Merry Pranksters’ Acid Test parties) sings:
“The bus come by and I got on, that’s when it all began
There was Cowboy Neal at the wheel of a bus to Never Ever Land.”
The song refers to Neal Cassady, legendary inspiration for Jack Kerouac and the Beats, now leading Bobby, the Dead and the Pranksters as they sought the next level of human consciousness. And they sought it on board Further. Well now I’ve found my bus and with her I hope to seek out MY next level, through the grace of Mother Ocean rather than any man-made drugs. (I can assure you: music will be a big part of the journey on Further, and a lot of that music will be Grateful Dead.)

As the Pranksters hoped LSD and their bus would do for them in the ‘60s, so I hope my Further will take me to faraway realms and bring me back safe and sound in the 21st century. And I hope you, my friends, will join me in the coming years in exploring this watery planet. I WILL need crew; I WILL need help. I can’t do it alone. Stay tuned for more details as they shake out, but stage one on the journey is to finish sorting out Further and get my sailing legs back while here on the Chesapeake. In May, we’ll return home to New England: I’ve reserved a mooring on the Merrimack River in Newburyport. I’ll go back to living at home on Plum Island and do a lot of daysails and short cruises in Massachusetts, New Hampshire and Maine (maybe even Nova Scotia). And then, next fall, well, you’ll just have to tune in and see. Or better yet, come along on the ride to Never Ever Land.

Note: Special thanks to Chris and the folks at Accent Graphics in Annapolis. I showed Chris a photo of the bus, Further, with its destination plate and he created the font for the graphic used on the boat, Further.

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From Chicago to Casablanca

Even the prestigious Field Museum got into the spirit of the weekend

Even the prestigious Field Museum got into the spirit of the weekend

Well, it’s been a week since I returned from Chicago and the final three Grateful Dead concerts. The “Fare Thee Well” shows, as they were billed, were the first — and last — concerts to feature the remaining members of the band on stage together since the passing of lead guitarist and de facto heart-and-soul of the band, Jerry Garcia in 1995. And while I had a ton of story/post ideas during the shows, it’s taken a week to digest them all and get them down here on paper, so to speak.

Why so long? Because there were a lot of conflicting thoughts going into the weekend. For instance, Trey Anastasio of Phish took Jerry’s place — much to the consternation of many Deadheads…including me. In fact, I was one of the most virulent anti-Trey folks after the announcement was made. Case in point: a Facebook post I made that put the oft-used “Hitler reacts to…” meme to work regarding Trey’s selection.

But you know what? Trey won me over. He really did. Of course he’s not Jerry. No one will EVER be Jerry. But Trey’s guitar chops were wonderful and, more importantly, his spirit really rose to the occasion. Deadheads went out of their way to show him some love, to welcome him to the family, when he took his first solo during “Box of Rain” Friday night — and you could see that it really got to him. It meant a lot to him that he was being welcomed into a role filling shoes that simply cannot be filled. He knew what he was undertaking, knew he could only do so much, but he made it clear he was going to give it all he could and honor Jerry’s memory. And he did. My only complaint? He doesn’t sing so much as he talks or recites the lyrics. Small complaint, given the so-called “singing” of bonafide Dead bassist, Phil Lesh. (The less said of Phil’s crooning, the better.)

Video sidebar: Even the city of Chicago got into the celebration during Saturday’s intermission with these Fireworks (well…actually they were for the Fourth of July but who’s counting?!).

So…what of the music? Well, the seven guys on stage sounded like great musicians who love to jam and who were working on jamming together. They just need more time. I realized midway through the weekend that by the time I was of age to enjoy the Grateful Dead and their jamming they’d already been at it for 20 years. They’d figured each other out. Give these seven guys 20 years and they could get to a similar place. They won’t get that time so yes, there were a few bumps and hiccups over the course of the weekend. But did I care? No, not really.

Why not? Because it was so good to be back in the scene after 21 years away. Walking into Soldier Field I felt like the prodigal son knocking on the front door at home. And when the first notes of “Box of Rain” began to carry out into the evening sky, I began crying. Yes I did, and I’m not afraid to admit it.

Good friends, good music, good times.

Good friends, good music, good times.

Yes, I miss Jerry. I miss that sense of family that existed at every show, even during the band’s heyday following “Touch of Grey.” But after 21 years away, it was a comfortable sweetness and joy that resulted from knowing those same feelings evoked by the Grateful Dead, by their music and their shows decades ago, were still available if we only put a few pieces together — good tunes, good friends, good vibes — and remember to answer in the positive when the song asks, “All I want to know is are you kind?” In fact, percussionist Mickey Hart’s exhortation after the final encore Sunday night summed up what made the weekend — and what should make up all of our futures: “The feeling we have here…remember it. Take it home and do some good with it. I’ll leave you with this: Please, be kind.”

In August 1995 I drove around Montana and British Columbia on vacation, listening to Dead shows on my cassette player in my truck and getting teary-eyed over Jerry’s passing on the ninth of the month. (My mother called me at work that morning to inform me; I couldn’t help but see her smiling at me last weekend as I danced for three nights — she always enjoyed hearing me explain what the band and the music meant to me.) Two decades later, I realized Jerry is still around. We’ll always have those tours, that music, from way back when.

It occurs to me that last weekend I felt like Rick Blaine. I got to see my old love, briefly, but it was enough. In the years we’d been apart, I’d lost it — lost it until four close friends I’ve never met recruited three other impeccable musicians and brought them to Chicago. I got it back last weekend. Here’s looking at you, Grateful Dead. Thanks for the music.

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