Grateful Dead

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To the Grateful Dead Family, Like many, the music, attitude, and lifestyle of the Grateful Dead has been an inspiration to me for many years. This inspiration has driven me to make my own life as a creative person. To live as free as I can and experience adventure at virtually any cost. I make movies and television shows for a living and write and perform my own music for fun. I strive to be a good person and to treat others as I would like to be treated. This past Summer, I took my wife, 6 months pregnant at the time, to her first show. (Furthur in Columbus, OH) I was very happy to be able to expose both she and our unborn son to the experience. This was our first pregnancy and Ripple had become the boy's official "theme song" during it. I often played the song for him on my guitar or with headphones on my wife's belly. The words of the song took on such a wonderful context during this time. We were so excited to be parents. So hopeful of what was to come. Late in the evening of July 31, 2010, my wife went into labor five weeks early. She'd had a perfect pregnancy and we were told all systems were go so we weren't particularly nervous to be a bit early. After several hours of labor we crossed into August 1. Although the 31st was my wife's birthday, I now knew our son would be born on yet another very special day. At 1:30am on August 1, Leo Knutson was born. Because he was early we knew he'd immediately be rushed off to receive some precautionary care. We caught a quick glance and he was off. Nearly 45 minutes later we were given the news that Leo was born with Down Syndrome and was having a very hard time breathing. We had no idea. We were broken beyond how I can explain in this short note. The next eight weeks were spent mostly in the hospital as Leo fought to gain strength. Test after test, procedure after procedure.There were a couple of very close calls but, eventually, we made it out. He remains on oxygen and has a feeding tube but his development and strength are coming along. We are hopeful that the 02 and tube are temporary. Today, at nearly 8 months old, Leo is an absolute joy. He smiles, tracks, moves and is unbelievably calm and happy given everything he's dealt with. What is particularly amazing about him is his reaction to music. I haven't seen the movie yet (there's a screening here in Indianapolis tomorrow night) but I must say that I could vouch for the power of music in this context. We still play Ripple amongst many other tunes for him. (As a father, Box of Rain has particular meaning to me.) It took a long time for us to be able to get through hearing it without breaking down completely but now we just smile, smile, smile. The words have found new meaning once again. We've drawn an incredible amount of strength from all of this. Isn't simply amazing how that can happen in life? Thank you all for everything you do. It means the world to us. Matt, Laura & Leo Mays Indianapolis

Of all the songs the Dead, the one that really is my personal favorite is "Fire On The Mountain. From that moment I heard it on Dead Set on cassette,with that incredbile,beautiful,melodic intro,I was hooked.But what really spoke to me was the second verse,and I bless the muse who gave Robert those lines to,,it has been a mantra for me when things got tough and when things were just clicking and ever thing was going right. I will admit that when Dead.net was forming and you could create a name,I choosed Dragon With Matches that's is why I love FOTM.For years,my self confident wasn't there, I saw it and felt it but it would turn out to be a shadow of what I confidence is. In the summer of 2008, I took a camp in British Columbia,in days that followed I literally and figuratively grew and it was that second verse that healed me and helped me completely,it was no longer a line of hopefulness,it has now became a line of certainty.And for that I express my deepest and most grateful gratitude to that band beyond description. Thank You Jerry,Phil,Brent,Vince,Pig,TC,Bill,Mickey,Robert and Bob

I'm a psychotherapist, and I've been through emotional hell myself, and the Dead have, of course, been *very* important to me throughout, so this topic carries a lot for me. I'm happy this topic came up especially because of one relevant experience I had about 8 weeks ago involving PTSD and healing with the Grateful Dead. First off, "I was born in a desert, raised in a lion's den." I grew up in a sort of post-apocalyptic world behind nice suburban walls. Since then I've had intrusive thoughts about various ways that civilization can end, Mad Max kind of stuff. Really unpleasant at times. Eight weeks ago I was in NYC doing some excellent advanced psychotherapy training, far from home, away from my family. It was winter, there was a massive blizzard and now my flight home was cancelled. On the first day of my trip I'd gotten a GI bug and had limped between "pit stops" every couple of hours through classes and Manhattan. I was pretty deeply bummed. Worse, I was having these horrible intrusive thoughts about what if power went out -- like all electricity in North America and how would I get home to my family? The thoughts also were peopled by marauding, sadistic gangs (ala my childhood). I cataloged my wool clothes, my food, possible routes, how could I navigate, wondering if I'd die before I made it home. Intrusive thoughts are a bitch because they don't let up and make you feel like crap and cloud your vision of what's in front of you. I was riding the subway that night to the Upper West Side and my music player was on random. "Crazy Fingers" from Beacon Theatre, NYC, June 14, 1976 came on. I realized that my train was going to go past the Beacon Theatre in a couple of stops. I decided to take a tip from the syncronicity and get off and have a look. I wound up then sitting on the bench in the little triangle park across the street from the Beacon Theatre listening to the June 14th show and feeling deep, abiding relief and contentment and even joy. New York City is of course a very hard place to make people do a double take. One way to do it: be simply happy and let it show on a bench in the depth of winter on a random week night. I decided to myself then in front of the Beacon Theatre to face the hell I'd been through as a child and to face the uselessness and pain of the intrusive thoughts I was having. I rejected them. I made a deal with myself: if I can't do anything practical or political about a problem, then I'm not spending my precious time with it in my mind. It was really turning a corner for me and I could feel it deeply. I wept in anger and compassion and relief. Right then random on my music player kicked in -- of course -- "Morning Dew." Yeah, a real live post-apocalyptic song. I decided I had to again go with the syncronicity and roll with it. So I jammed down Broadway defying the intrusive thoughts to come up even with Jerry Garcia intoning the words, as I take it, of the last person alive on earth. Even with that, or because of that, I could feel my strength growing and sort of dance along with no real fear. Again, a real corner turned. My relationship with the intrusive thoughts and PTSD symptoms has been deeply changed. I learned a lot that night and I've been able to share it with my patients when appropriate and they've benefited greatly.