All I leave behind me is only what I found.

Each year as the calendar turns from July to August, Deadheads are confronted with both Jerry Garcia’s birthday, August 1st, and the anniversary of his death, August 9th. This one week period is commonly referred to as the “Days Between,” after a song by the same name, written by Garcia and his legendary songwriting partner, Robert Hunter. The tune was to have been recorded for a studio album the band began working on in ’92, that was, sadly, never completed.

Since Jerry’s transition to the big acid test in the sky, different members of the band have taken up the mantle of leadership, and for more than a quarter-century the music has never stopped. But one thing is obvious to anyone who has listened to the crowd roar after Jerry’s recitation of the famous line in the bridge of Ramble On Rose (“Take you to the leader of the band”): Jerry Garcia was the undisputed and irreplaceable leader of the Grateful Dead. What is also true, however, is that his leadership role was unofficial, unacknowledged (at least by him), and singularly reluctant.

There is a profound humility in this unassuming style of leadership that merits recognition. For true leadership is awarded not by words, but by deeds. Ironically, Jerry Garcia’s aversion to being considered the leader of the band was in itself one of the deeds that served as evidence of his iconic position in the history of the band and the movement it created.  

Among the many volumes that have been written about leadership, the late, great Ram Dass’s paraphrasing of the Tao Te Ching stands out in its description of the reluctant leadership style modeled by Jerry Garcia: 

The Tao Te Ching speaks of the best leader as one who leaves the people thinking they did it all themselves. Jerry was that kind of a leader.

T.W.I.G.D.H. features a show that coincides with the celebration of Jerry Garcia’s birthday. Starting on 7/31/74 and ending on Jerry’s actual birthday, the Grateful Dead took the stage at Dillon Stadium in Hartford, CT for a classic, 3-set, 4-hour ’74 show that holds up in comparison to any show of that year. During the second set of this show, the band makes a smooth transition from the furious ending of an 18-minute Eyes of the World into the haunting D-minor of China Doll.

It’s important to mention that the original title of China Doll was The Suicide Song, and it is, indeed, the story of the subject taking his own life by gunshot (A pistol shot at five o’clock/The bells of heaven ring). This week, as we celebrate the life and times of Jerry Garcia, we must ask ourselves the haunting question: Did Jerry in effect, by virtue of his inability to address his addictions, take his own life? This is not an easy question, but it’s a fair one, especially for those of us who have mourned the loss of this beloved figure for more than 25 years.

A lyric from the next verse may provide an even better description of Jerry Garcia’s legacy: “All I leave behind me is only what I found.” Much like Jerry’s reluctant leadership style, this is a statement of uncommon humility, especially coming from someone who left so much behind of his own creation that multiple generations – past, present and future – have revered and will continue to revere with nothing short of religious devotion.

Each one of us has a fundamental desire to feel that our life matters. This need becomes increasingly urgent as we reach a certain age. But how can we truly measure what we’ve accomplished? Jerry’s example suggests that many of us are using the wrong yardstick. 

We’re taught from a young age that the sum of our material achievements – what we do for a living, how much money we make, what kind of car we drive, what house we live in, who we know – are the best way to measure the value of our life. Using this method, we envision ourselves sitting back and basking in the glory of all we leave behind for our heirs to quibble over “before (we) hit the ground.” But these things do not truly represent our uniqueness as individuals; as the song says, they are merely “what (we) found.” This approach to living is decidedly lacking in humility, as it ignores the fundamental truth that, as I like to put it, we are merely a pile of dirt that gets to stand up and walk around for a while. To fail to recognize this principle is to misunderstand the nature of the human experience and the potential it has to perfect itself, generation by generation.

Let us, instead, aspire to live a life that is measured by the yardstick of the example we set, by the love and respect we share, and by our contributions to the repair of a broken world. We will know we’ve lived a life of meaning if we enable our descendents, even in a small way, to enjoy a more just and peaceful world. 

Here’s how:

     Talk less and listen more.

     Spend less time promoting yourself and more time advocating for others.

     Focus less on being right and more on understanding alternative points of view.

     Be less judgmental and more inclined to give others the benefit of the doubt.

     Complain less and express gratitude more.

     Give generously to those in need.

 Most importantly, when you’re called upon to be a leader – even if only as a parent or a friend – do so selflessly, and humbly. The value of leadership is never guaranteed simply by virtue of being in a leadership position, but only in the service you provide.

Jerry understood these principles, which is why, in spite of his imperfections – or perhaps because of them – we celebrate his life and times on the occasion of his birthday, his passing, and the days between.