Today is Jerry's birthday. It is hard to express what Jerry means to me. He remains a daily presence in my life even though he's been dead for almost 25 years. When I was going to shows, there was something about Jerry that I found incredibly endearing. Sure, I vaguely knew of his heroin addiction, but before you could watch grainy videos of mid 80s shows when Jerry looked like warmed over death, his post-coma years transformed him into a big teddy bear whose moods we would try to divine based on the color of his t shirt, song selection, or a head nod in Bobby's direction. He was not a rock God, he was Uncle John (John being his middle name), the Dead was his band, and we were his children, coming home. I miss him every day, even knowing that had he lived, it is quite likely his productive music career would be over (he would be celebrating birthday number 77).
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