By Starr Sackstein
The crowded Beacon Theater in New York City was buzzing with excitement on Friday, October 13th minutes before Phil Lesh and Friends began to play. I have to admit I had my skepticism about seeing a member of the Grateful Dead with different musicians and without Jerry Garcia. As a matter of fact, it’s what kept me from seeing the Further Festivals, Ratdog, and the Other Ones in the past. I just didn’t think I could handle seeing the Dead without Jerry. I am not ashamed to say I was wrong in this instance. They were able to ignite the same spark that the Grateful Dead always had burning.
The lights went low and the fever was in the air a little after 8 PM. Upon the lighted stage stood Phil Lesh, John Molo, Warren Haynes, Jimmy Herring, and Rob Barraco and the crowd went wild. They started playing a disjointed warm up jam that came together like a symphony to open with “Dancin’ in the Streets.” The spotlight came up on Rob Barraco on the keyboards and he began to sing. Imagine my surprise when Rob Barraco was able to carry Jerry’s songs without losing the magic that Garcia brought to his music. After Phil Lesh sang an awesome version of Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes”, Barraco came back to sing a phenomenal rendition of Ramble on Rose. I was floored. I hadn’t heard Ramble on Rose at a Dead show in years and it was just like old times.
The first set continued to surprise, intrigue and motivate the other fans and myself with outstanding jams reminiscent of early Grateful Dead stylings and intensity. They didn’t let up at all and neither did the audience. Through an impressive jam of “The Wheel” into “Jack-A-Roe” into “Foolish Heart” finishing with “Turn on Your Love Light”, the group played like each of the songs would never end. The anticipation was high as we all waited for what song would be next. The isles were filled with spinning hippies and dancing newcomers both equally impressed with the display. I was home again and I was instantly reminded of why I loved seeing the Dead live so much.
The second set opened with “Strawberry Fields” and it was fantastic. The electric organ sounds came out and I remember standing there thinking to myself, “no it can’t be what I think it is”; but it was. I never heard a cover of this Beatles song and I’m sorry they never did. The musicians were calm and collected and loving what they were doing. The chemistry between the guys was electric and alive. Each of them separate finely tuned spokes that make the wheel spin perfectly. The music was tight and energetic. I couldn’t have been more swept away. It was an action packed set intertwined with old classics like: “Wharf Rat,” “Box of Rain,” “Not Fadeaway,” “Help On the Way” into “Slipknot!” into “Terrapin Station,” “The Other One” back into “Slipknot!” and ending with “Franklin’s Tower.” When they finished playing everyone stood around cheering and clapping awaiting the encore that we knew would soon follow. What were they going to play? Something old? Or something new?
The spotlight came back up on the stage after a 15 minute round of applause. The crowd silenced as Phil Lesh stood center stage; he took this opportunity to remind his fans how important organ donors are to people. Although I understand his passion for this particular cause, I could’ve done without the solicitation. It was jarring and out of place for that moment. After another roar of support, Phil’s friends came back on stage and began their final jam for the evening. Built to Last was their last selection. Although I am not a huge fan of the newer Grateful Dead music, Warren Haynes performed it with precision and enthusiasm. It suited the spirit of the show as an encore as this music was made to last forever.
This show was unlike any Grateful Dead show that I ever saw. The band managed to pull together on so many songs that you would have never heard together in one show. It was one hard hitting tune right after the next and the musicianship couldn’t have been matched. They were a cohesive whole working only for the music and the love of their fans. A simpler setting and a fuller set makes for a tremendous experience.
After all the preconceived notions I had about seeing them, I am glad that I put them aside and took a chance. I left the show wanting more as I often did when I knew a night of Grateful Dead music was coming to a close. I haven’t left a concert in a long time feeling tired from dancing, but completely eager with anticipation for the next time I could see them. There is nothing in the world that could replace the experience of seeing The Grateful Dead, however, Phil Lesh and Friends for an intimate evening of music could certainly begin to fill the void.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Life... Now - 1/21/09
The ominous clouds
loom low above
our home
cracked solidly
down the center
bleeding - -
where there is no blood
damaged
beyond repair
the hushed whispers
loud enough
to be ascertained
just soft enough
to make for reach
Vietnam -
in my house
complete with psychological warfare
angry - ugly tactics
sure to injure
the innocent
malicious lies
told in darkened rooms
deceitful dregs
disrespecting memory
taking advantage
blaming wounds
how deeply the shots
penetrate teh iron will
of condescention
superior -
seemingly knowing
fact checking
under false niceties
and inappropiateness
goading reaction
which shall never come
as I have been trained
in this combat style
by the best
all those years
of POW camp
it finally comes in handy -
no reaction
no action
no emotion
recognizable to his eyes
only solid stability
safety
the high road
is mine to maintain
the lower down
he sinks
your kind gestures
no longer represent
love, but
bargaining and
manipulation
dealing your hurt
in a bluffer's hand
wistful winces
calculated concoctions
of what may appear
truthful
through teh fun time mirror
of your mind
you do me no favos
despite your claims
only wolf-style "help"
waiting to eat me alive
I once pitied
your sadness-
I anguished over
the unintentional pain
which has now
only served to fuel
my inattention
and paranoia
deep in the forest
that we once called home
I sit among the dense
trees and fog
seeking clarity
and meaning
the desperate spell
of complication
entangles my focus
and devours my sleep
leaving me incapable
of calm
tears well within my brain
incapable of freeing
themselves
unable to parachute out
only waiting
and maneuvering
hardening my sorrow
wishing my little boy
would seek refuge in my arms
not recognizing
the deft game
his daddy plays
a man scorned
bleeds black
on the face
of those once knowing
troubled...
loom low above
our home
cracked solidly
down the center
bleeding - -
where there is no blood
damaged
beyond repair
the hushed whispers
loud enough
to be ascertained
just soft enough
to make for reach
Vietnam -
in my house
complete with psychological warfare
angry - ugly tactics
sure to injure
the innocent
malicious lies
told in darkened rooms
deceitful dregs
disrespecting memory
taking advantage
blaming wounds
how deeply the shots
penetrate teh iron will
of condescention
superior -
seemingly knowing
fact checking
under false niceties
and inappropiateness
goading reaction
which shall never come
as I have been trained
in this combat style
by the best
all those years
of POW camp
it finally comes in handy -
no reaction
no action
no emotion
recognizable to his eyes
only solid stability
safety
the high road
is mine to maintain
the lower down
he sinks
your kind gestures
no longer represent
love, but
bargaining and
manipulation
dealing your hurt
in a bluffer's hand
wistful winces
calculated concoctions
of what may appear
truthful
through teh fun time mirror
of your mind
you do me no favos
despite your claims
only wolf-style "help"
waiting to eat me alive
I once pitied
your sadness-
I anguished over
the unintentional pain
which has now
only served to fuel
my inattention
and paranoia
deep in the forest
that we once called home
I sit among the dense
trees and fog
seeking clarity
and meaning
the desperate spell
of complication
entangles my focus
and devours my sleep
leaving me incapable
of calm
tears well within my brain
incapable of freeing
themselves
unable to parachute out
only waiting
and maneuvering
hardening my sorrow
wishing my little boy
would seek refuge in my arms
not recognizing
the deft game
his daddy plays
a man scorned
bleeds black
on the face
of those once knowing
troubled...
Poem - 12/21/08
The wintry mix
of icy winds
whisper on the neck
chilling the core
precipitating
punishing warm thoughts
evacuating autumn
quickly hurrying him out over night
whirling frigid freeze
dominating down
breat in the womb
and out the comfort
unwilling to adjust
to the change
the inside
mimic that which happens
outside
a desperate yen
to maintain
the summer inside
unable to shift
sadly, stuck
in shorts and a teeshirt
despite the evident
drop in temperature
wilting like seasons
languishing,
barely holding on
no longer able
to pretend
that things haven't changed
we mourn
the loss of creation
the loss of a dream
of icy winds
whisper on the neck
chilling the core
precipitating
punishing warm thoughts
evacuating autumn
quickly hurrying him out over night
whirling frigid freeze
dominating down
breat in the womb
and out the comfort
unwilling to adjust
to the change
the inside
mimic that which happens
outside
a desperate yen
to maintain
the summer inside
unable to shift
sadly, stuck
in shorts and a teeshirt
despite the evident
drop in temperature
wilting like seasons
languishing,
barely holding on
no longer able
to pretend
that things haven't changed
we mourn
the loss of creation
the loss of a dream
Waiting in rain
plink! plink! plink!
the placid punctuation
of hail
melting rain
on the windshield
intermittently interrupted
by overworked wipers.
the placid punctuation
of hail
melting rain
on the windshield
intermittently interrupted
by overworked wipers.
Inaugurating an elected prince
the newness of change
breaths life into
the depressed economy
alive and vital
the world hopeful
a historical moment
realized through the depth
of time
tears of past horrors
emancipated
with this new tide
comes color into the world
our daunting fears
liberated
breaths life into
the depressed economy
alive and vital
the world hopeful
a historical moment
realized through the depth
of time
tears of past horrors
emancipated
with this new tide
comes color into the world
our daunting fears
liberated
Recent Poem
Fragmented soul
splintered by reality
the damaged face
put on for society-
a fallen mask
of disillusion
shattered
expectation lavished
in comfort and perceived
need
the establishment of knowing
that lie can breath
no longer
necessity is no reason
to propagate
a falsehood
of perception
union-
is only a societal
construction
defined by people
who exist
within antiquated
philosophies
re-examining
that which works
for the individual
feasibly reconciled
with happiness
trying to be perfection
to all
without sacrifice
of hope
the twinklying lilght
inside the darkened window
glares forth
from within
a shimmering possibility
holding onto a miracle
to behold
Freedom?
granted to all by
the constitution
abolishing servitude
relinquishing oneself
from emotional shackles
a child has the right
to see all loved ones
free and content
splintered by reality
the damaged face
put on for society-
a fallen mask
of disillusion
shattered
expectation lavished
in comfort and perceived
need
the establishment of knowing
that lie can breath
no longer
necessity is no reason
to propagate
a falsehood
of perception
union-
is only a societal
construction
defined by people
who exist
within antiquated
philosophies
re-examining
that which works
for the individual
feasibly reconciled
with happiness
trying to be perfection
to all
without sacrifice
of hope
the twinklying lilght
inside the darkened window
glares forth
from within
a shimmering possibility
holding onto a miracle
to behold
Freedom?
granted to all by
the constitution
abolishing servitude
relinquishing oneself
from emotional shackles
a child has the right
to see all loved ones
free and content
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
A teacher’s plea for greater student conscientiousness
The lesson plan is waiting patiently on my desk. Chart paper colorfully prepped with the agenda for the day is posted centrally in the front of the room. Directions are clearly written out and placed in the same location for students to follow when they sit down, ready to work. I wait at the door with a smile on my face to greet my students as they enter the classroom for an hour of learning. The silence anticipates its intelligent interruption.
As a teacher, my goal is to raise awareness and foster critical thinking. I seek to engage my students in a dialogue that should be of great importance to each of them. Using what I know and am passionate about, I urge each of my students to become accountable for their own growth as literate, independent people. I, too hunger for the opportunity to learn from them, the same way they look to me for answers. Idealism and hope help me to believe that what I do matters and that I can help my students find their own voice, empowering them to achieve personal goals.
My methods aren’t always traditional, but I have had great success in the past motivating my students with my firm, consistent care and prodding. Seeking friendship with the young minds that sit before me isn’t in my plan, but I do hope to establish a respectful relationship where we have a healthy exchange of ideas; a real conversation that seeks to inspire everyone involved.
What worries me, however, is the great sense of apathy I experience from some of my students instead of the above mentioned conversation. They don’t seem to care about their learning. This perceived ennui with whatever I present to them is both frustrating and upsetting. They blame everyone but themselves for their choice to fail. After being given countless opportunities for success, a teacher sometimes feels like throwing his/her hands in the air or banging his/her head against a wall. Because when many students fail to achieve or to learn the work, teachers can’t help but take it personally.
I know that my colleagues and I all believe that the students at WJPS are capable of the rigorous work presented to them in each of their classes. We spend hours in professional development working on ways to teach students to be reflective learners who can handle the challenges presented to them throughout the day. And even with the many strategies and resources given, we all struggle at one time or another with the poor work ethic of our students, who sometimes appear to prefer excuses to responsibility.
The “real” world we all speak of is not as forgiving as a classroom. There are no teachers reminding you of missing work or giving you second and third opportunities to make it up or do it over. There are harsh realities that lie in each of your collective futures; learning to be responsible for your choices will establish a strong foundation for a better work ethic later. That determination to make something as good as you possibly can will teach you skills for life and the process will teach you perseverance. Difficult tasks require time and thought along with attention to detail.
Your teachers don’t enjoy repeating the same tired diatribes about your lack of preparedness. We don’t like nagging and we don’t like treating you like babies, despite what you may think. The teachers really want to allow you to be the adults you are growing up to be and to witness your successes. There are few things better than that moment of clarity, when we know that you know you “got it.” Let us help you be successful- it is a phenomenal motivator.
As a teacher, my goal is to raise awareness and foster critical thinking. I seek to engage my students in a dialogue that should be of great importance to each of them. Using what I know and am passionate about, I urge each of my students to become accountable for their own growth as literate, independent people. I, too hunger for the opportunity to learn from them, the same way they look to me for answers. Idealism and hope help me to believe that what I do matters and that I can help my students find their own voice, empowering them to achieve personal goals.
My methods aren’t always traditional, but I have had great success in the past motivating my students with my firm, consistent care and prodding. Seeking friendship with the young minds that sit before me isn’t in my plan, but I do hope to establish a respectful relationship where we have a healthy exchange of ideas; a real conversation that seeks to inspire everyone involved.
What worries me, however, is the great sense of apathy I experience from some of my students instead of the above mentioned conversation. They don’t seem to care about their learning. This perceived ennui with whatever I present to them is both frustrating and upsetting. They blame everyone but themselves for their choice to fail. After being given countless opportunities for success, a teacher sometimes feels like throwing his/her hands in the air or banging his/her head against a wall. Because when many students fail to achieve or to learn the work, teachers can’t help but take it personally.
I know that my colleagues and I all believe that the students at WJPS are capable of the rigorous work presented to them in each of their classes. We spend hours in professional development working on ways to teach students to be reflective learners who can handle the challenges presented to them throughout the day. And even with the many strategies and resources given, we all struggle at one time or another with the poor work ethic of our students, who sometimes appear to prefer excuses to responsibility.
The “real” world we all speak of is not as forgiving as a classroom. There are no teachers reminding you of missing work or giving you second and third opportunities to make it up or do it over. There are harsh realities that lie in each of your collective futures; learning to be responsible for your choices will establish a strong foundation for a better work ethic later. That determination to make something as good as you possibly can will teach you skills for life and the process will teach you perseverance. Difficult tasks require time and thought along with attention to detail.
Your teachers don’t enjoy repeating the same tired diatribes about your lack of preparedness. We don’t like nagging and we don’t like treating you like babies, despite what you may think. The teachers really want to allow you to be the adults you are growing up to be and to witness your successes. There are few things better than that moment of clarity, when we know that you know you “got it.” Let us help you be successful- it is a phenomenal motivator.
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