On saying goodbye

ISSUES #3

Aug 11, 2025

letter from the editor

When the time comes, you gotta know when to call it quits. Better to exit early, before you absolutely have to (Michael Jordan twice, Barry Sanders, Daniel Day-Lewis) than to embarrass yourself hanging on (ring chasing stars, octogenarian politicians, U2).

I don’t consider myself a stubborn person, but I certainly have a hard time with transitions. How do you know when it’s time to make a change? The box took a long time to build, why think outside of it?

♫ The shoe is on the hand it fits / There’s really nothing much to it ♪

When you face unfamiliarity, best not to limit your possibilities with a bunch of assumptions. Sometimes you just gotta try that something new and see for yourself.

Change is, sadly, in the air.

♫ Dawn is breaking everywhere / Light a candle, curse the glare ♪

One of my oldest friends recently moved away after a decade spent in San Francisco. In that time he became something of a Deadhead, so for his sendoff, a group of us went to see the world’s premier cover band perform at Golden Gate Park. Last year, this same group of friends invited me to join them for a Vegas trip to see that same cover band play at the newly opened, vertigo inducing Sphere. Sounded like a combination of places I would not like to be, thank you very much.

The Grateful Dead scene never seemed like my particular bag. On paper, there is enough to get me interested; I love live music, smoking pot, and treasuring old tee shirts. Nevertheless, my negative connotations of the term Deadhead - hackie sack, tie-dye, and white people with dreadlocks - kept me at a distance. Sometimes you avoid the entire forest because you don’t like the vibe of some of the trees.

The weekend of shows was a celebration of 60 long strange years of the Grateful Dead and I was skeptical of the ceremony surrounding the event. Dead & Company had previously announced a “final” run of shows, prompting immediate ticket sellouts, only to then tack more shows on later. The novelty of finality was being squeezed for all it was worth. I’d been fooled by this trick before.

♫ I see you got your fist out / Say your piece and get out ♪

Hesitant like a fish out of water, I shuffled in with the crowd to find the Polo Fields relaxingly expansive and ripe for people watching (worth noting that the crowd was unsurprisingly, overwhelmingly white). The music was palatable throughout. Billy Strings opened the show with a spirited set of bluegrass and joined the band for its signature sobriety anthem. John Mayer’s outfit was disappointingly understated. The mood was light and friendly, the crowd seemed to be essentially asshole-free.

By the end of the evening, I was embarrassed by my cynicism. The last song of the night (and the first one I correctly identified) was Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door, a Bob Dylan cover sung by Bob Weir, the last remaining original member of the Dead. Listening to him strain, singing a song about confronting / accepting / staring down death, I finally understood how real the goodbye was.

This felt like an end. Whatever change you’re afraid to embark on, it’s gonna be alright.

♫ We will get by / We will survive ♪

~ pat

ISSUE 3

The Dead & Co. sendoff got me thinking about something I myself have been meaning to put in the rearview. I’m exploring a T-break for the first time after a decade plus of pretty regular inhalation. I’ve never seen much issue with my constant toking, but I want to stay ahead of it, before I become the butt of the joke.

This month’s issue (much like a Grateful Dead setlist) is loaded. It features profiles on some of the big names (both physically and cosmically) present at the show, and a perspective from a lifelong Dead fan seeing Dead & Co. in all its Spheric wonder. There’s also a couple explorations of quitting substances, and a cheeky inclusion of how to get over aversions to - ahem - grasses, trees, and weeds.