Grateful Dead

September 28, 1975

Just got back from Boonville after a four-day flower trip to LA. We left about 2 a.m. September 23. There was myself and Dave Burroughs from San Francisco house and David Urban, Peter Califano, Gary Kreigel, John Redman and Hans, who was center man, all from Berkeley.

We clunked it until we came to Oxnard, where we started our first run. I sold a two-dozen bunch right off and ended the run with $52.40 about two hours later. Then I played hide-and-seek with a security guard in the CF Bank building, but didn't sell too many except in the bar/restaurant, where I sold four-dozen.

My next run took me across the street to the mall. A mechanic in the Sears garage said to come back at quitting time. In the mall I traded two roses for a hot dog and a rose for an ice cream cone. But when I went back to sell some flowers to the guy in the garage, a dozen for $5, he gave me his money and I was counting out his flowers and he just changed his mind on the spur of the moment.

The rest of the day I felt tired and uninspired.

The next day, September 24, I got really inspired by a reading by Father on victory and defeat. But then the flowers didn't come in, so we guerrilla witnessed at UC at Santa Barbara with a little skit we called "The Elephant Experience," where Hans lectured afterward. We did have a limited degree of success with our first group, but the second group bombed. The flowers finally came through around 6 p.m. and we slept out on the beach that night.

On September 25, in Santa Barbara, I ran into a Christian woman around noon in a bank who knew who we were and tried to warn me about how Rev. Moon is a false prophet and he is duping the country's youth into money-making schemes so that he could live in a palace in New York. At first it didn't bother me, but when I got to thinking about why we didn't have fund-raising licenses showing that we were a non-profit organization, I got negative and spaced out on my next run for five hours.

That night we went to Malibu, where I sold a couple roses at Alice's Restaurant, then we went on to Santa Monica, and finally the Sunset Strip in LA, which was spiritually bombed.

The next day, September 26, we went flower selling in Santa Maria, where I got really tired and negative. I even cut one of my runs a little short. I walked into a small restaurant, really just to wash up a little, but I knew I was not really into selling roses. I was too tired to care. As I was walking out by the last table by the door, there were two women, one of whom was very excited about the roses. But because I wasn't centered, the other woman talked her out of it.

I sat outside feeling really tired out, not wanting to move, still knowing I had a few more minutes to sell, but I didn't care, and when the van came, I just crawled in and went to sleep. When I woke up I was in San Luis Obsipo and I felt somewhat refreshed.

I didn't do real well at first except for a half dozen and some singles. Then I went to do some bars and restaurants. At one restaurant a guy threw me out waving a butter knife in my face, and as I was getting thrown out of the next place a table of guys bought a two-dozen bundle and I sold a two-dozen bundle to some cowboy at the next bar, who at first wasn't interested and then said, without me saying anything, "You talked me into it." Then I sold a two-dozen bundle to another cowboy in another bar, who just wanted to see if there were really two-dozen flowers in the bunch.

Pick-up time came and went. After an hour I called Berkeley and Alan said that Hans would be late. It turned out that David Urban had been busted in Santa Barbara. We did finally get picked up around 9 p.m., ate at McDonald's, and drove up the coast on Highway 1. While Hans was sharing he took a 20 mph curve at about 50 or so and we ran off the road into the bank. It sort of shook us up, but no one was hurt and the truck was not damaged.

Hans had grown up to be a Catholic priest, but within the last couple years he had been on the road crew for the Grateful Dead, so he knew quite a bit about them and how they started off as a really good thing but while he was with them they were essentially beginning to fold up. They had had it all together except for Heavenly Father, because they understood metaphysical existence really well.

They have a new album out now called "Blues for Allah," which I haven't yet heard, but while I was in LA on the Strip outside of Sneaky Pete's at 2 a.m. there were a bunch of really big Dead posters of the album with the caption "Play Dead" underneath. Somehow it seemed really sad to me that even if they were grateful they were also dead. I can't relate to the name anymore. I don't think I ever really did, though I know I thought I did at one time. But that's because I didn't understand what the name meant until I met the Family.

We came back to Hearst Street, where we spent the night and went up to Boonville with Alan, Peter, Gary and Randy on Saturday morning. I was in Jennifer's group. I remember seeing Reid and Linda, but they looked different, not so bright, and Bob Kruman said to me that I looked different, more humble, he said. I don't know, but I really want to go out actualizing like this again and this time really put everything I've got into it.

I am beginning to realize how much Heavenly Father needs us, but He can't work through us unless our behavior is up to standard. It is just like Don Juan was saying: "We have be warriors of impeccable character." And I was anything but impeccable, always thinking of my own position, not really caring about God's position, and I was really struck by how insincere and faithless I have been. This weekend has made me determined to change all that and really start living for HF, put my life on the line if I have to. I just don't feel like my life is worth living if I don't live it for HF.

I mean, I can always be grateful to be alive, but without HF you are grateful dead.