by When I read about Bob Weir’s death I saw that he was 78, and I immediately flashed back to a pivotal moment in my life involving my friend Chris Hegarty. And Bob Weir.
I was a Deadhead when I was in high school, so this was in the early 1970s (I graduated in 1974). I went to every concert when the Dead were in town (NYC and Long Island) with my closest friends, Chris Hegarty, who just died last August, and Adrienne Turyn. That is Adrienne dead center, and Chris is to her left, leaning back and smiling. More below …
It was at the end of the concert and Chris had written a letter to the Grateful Dead about a plan she had for writing about them. She couldn’t have been more than 16 years old. She threw her letter up towards the stage and Bob Weir caught it. I hadn’t read the letter, but Chris went on to become an accomplished poet, so she could write. I’m sure it was a great letter. But she was only 16, and I didn’t think they would take her seriously.
We were hanging around the stage, and Chris was hoping one of them would come out after having read the letter. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of that, but I admired her bravery and for taking a shot.
Then we heard someone calling out “Chris! Chris!” It was Weir. He told her that he loved her ideas and gave her the address for John Perry Barlow. He told her to write him and they’d take it from there. I stood there just stunned. My whole world changed. I know how that sounds but it did. For the rest of my life I used this as the model for how I would live my life. I would go for it. No matter how scared or unqualified I felt I would take a shot. Almost all the best things in my life have come from my ability to do this.
But here’s the thing I only just realized when I read that he was 78. If we were 16 when this happened, that means Bob Weir was 25. At the time I was thinking we were just kids, and we were, but I saw Weir as being so much older and he was essentially still a kid himself. I have always liked him, and especially for how he treated my friend, but now I like him even more knowing how young he was. I’m not sure why yet. It has something to do with how it emphasizes his openness to taking a chance. And his kindness.
Chris wrote Barlow, but he never responded. It was disappointing but it didn’t change anything for me. Chris was still the most fearless person I had ever known, and I was going to be just like her. (I should also remind everyone that this was the 1970s, when women were not encouraged to be bold, making her act that much more astonishing.) God I wish she was still alive so we could talk again about that night, and I could thank her for helping me to become a better version of myself. And I wish I could thank Bob Weir for his kindness and for blowing my mind that night when he showed what can happen when you take the long shot.
