Wave The Flag . . .

I hope you're getting to enjoy the sort-of-a holiday weekend. As a resident of the South, I am appreciating the miracle that is air conditioning. I will also spend the next several days trying to keep the dogs from having nervous breakdowns as the result of unrelenting neighborhood fireworks.

In reflecting on our American experiment, this year I am accompanied by a recent release of a June 10, 1973 Robert F. Kennedy Stadium Grateful Dead Show. The show was recommended by Spotify to me this week.

What, you may ask, does the Grateful Dead have to do with July 4th or the idea of the United States anyway? Well, the fact that The Allman Brothers were one of the opening bands that night brought a bunch of you back in. The other opener was Wet Willie, and if you dislike them that means you hate this and all weekends.

Beyond the personnel, this show (like so many others) was full of American stories and storytellers. The band sang "their" songs, but also retold, kept alive, and passed along the stories of others: Buddy Holly, Johnny Cash, George Jones, Chuck Berry, and Bob Dylan, to name a few.

(Apologies that I could not embed all the video links, and that some are found behind hyperlinked text. I cannot for the life of me figure out why YouTube prevents embedding certain videos).

Ramble On Rose. A ballad about the life and times of American matriarch Rose Kennedy I'm kidding. This tune makes reference to several American characters, including Billy Sunday. Who (or what) could be more American than Sunday, who barnstormed through the Kerosene Circuit as a major league outfielder AND an evangelical preacher?

Just like jack the ripper, just like mojo hand,
Just like billy Sunday, in a shotgun ragtime band,
Just like new york city, just like Jericho,
Pace the halls and climb the walls and get out when they blow.        

Speaking of Billy Sunday, I urge you to learn about Billy Sunday Burt by listening to the podcast In the Red Clay

The Race is On. A guy from The Big Thicket nicknamed "The Possum"? American.

My heart's out of the runnin'
True love's scratched for another's sake
The race is on and it looks like heartache
And the winner loses all        

Big River. This body of water needs no introduction. Nor does The Man in Black.

I met her accidentally in St. Paul (Minnesota).
And it tore me up every time I heard her drawl, Southern drawl.
Then I heard my dream was back Downstream cavortin' in Davenport,
And I followed you, Big River, when you called.        

Promised Land. Marvin Berry's cousin sang of travelling all the way from and through Norfolk, Raleigh, Charlotte, Atlanta, Birmingham, New Orleans, Houston, Albuquerque, and Los Angeles. (Why he bypassed Rock Hill is a mystery. And by "mystery," I mean I've spent way too much time working on this edition and am inclined to Google no further).

Los Angeles give me Norfolk Virginia
Tidewater four ten O nine
Tell the folks back home this is the promised land callin'
And the poor boy's on the line        

It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry. Bob Dylan has been performing for sixty (60) years.

Don't the moon look good, honey, shinin' through the trees
Don't the brakemen look good, baby, flaggin' down the "Double-E"
Don't the sun look good doin' down over the sea
But don't my gal look fine when she's chasin' after me        

Not Fade Away. Written by Charles Hardin (look it up), performed by Buddy Holly. I had no idea until just this second that Holly was from Lubbock, Texas, despite hearing Texas in My Rearview Mirror almost my entire life.

Love is loving and not fade away        

Finally, I recorded the below on this weekend some years ago for some friends seeing the then-current incarnation of the band in Chicago.

This video, like others posted here recently, features a less-than-steady cameraperson.