Looking Back on Life

It’s 3 am. I am sitting on my bed, sipping coffee, and waiting for the time when I need to get in the shower and go to work. I sit here reflecting on my youth.

I learned a few hours ago that Bobby Weir just passed away. A person who unknowingly played a huge part of my youth.

For those of you not familiar with that name, he was one of the founding members of a band called The Grateful Dead.

Yes, I am a Deadhead.

There was a time when I was young, brave, strong, unafraid. I was fierce.

I would take off on and go all over New England every spring and fall to follow them from show to show. Hartford, New Haven, Springfield, SPAC, Rochester, Buffalo, Philly, New Jersey.

This was a time when you actually wrote a letter to the band, telling them which show you wanted tickets for, and sent them a money order. A few weeks later, your tickets appeared in the mail. No fancy ticket outlets, no online purchase. Just a letter to the band.

Part way thru my journey, they did stop that, and you then had to buy the tickets from TicketTron. Yeah, I slept on sidewalks in cities the night before they would go on sale, so I was one of the first in line.

Sometimes I went to the shows alone, sometimes with my boyfriend, who was the one who introduced me to the music. Throwing a cheap mattress and a cooler in the back of a VW bus and taking off to feel the magic.

I had no fear of driving all over the place. This was a time when if you broke down on the side of the road, someone would stop, and if nothing else, give you a ride to the next town’s gas station for help. Luckily, in driving all those hundreds of miles, the worst that ever happened was a flat tire.

I had no fear of camping in the parking lot of a stadium. It was a huge party with all the other Deadheads. You shared food, water, and the occasional joint. You met people from literally all over the world, who also traveled to feel the magic.

Hell, Jerry Garcia waved to me in the parking lot of the Philly Spectrum!

One of the best shows I saw with them was The Dead, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, and Bob Dylan in the Buffalo Bills stadium in New York. It was July 4, 1986, it was hot and I got a massive sun burn. And it was amazing.

I can’t tell you how many shows I saw, somewhere between 50-60 of them. I lost my ticket stubs when I moved. The last show was July 2, 2016. I took Rob to his first and only “Dead” show.

Along the way, in ‘92 I joined my hometown’s volunteer ambulance association. I took the class, finished 2nd in the that and 3rd on my state final. I was given the EMT number 92-58* and awarded the title of EMT-B.

And I was good. Very good. I ran an average at the time of 1K calls a year. I was single, lived close to the ambulance barn, and my job would let me take off to handle calls when I was on duty. I also picked up calls when not on duty in the back up rig. I took all the holidays so folks with families could be together and not worry about coverage in the town.

A few years later, I upgraded to EMT-I and got the new number of 94-16*. This ment I could start IV’s, and per the current training, was pretty much one step below a paramedic. I was not allowed to push drugs, but could do everything else.

I was a pro at making a stick in a moving ambulance. I could make an injured child giggle while I bandaged a teddy bear the same way I bandaged the child. I would blow up gloves and we would decorate them on the way to the hospital. I could hold a man’s head, who just fell and broke his neck, paralyzing him from the neck down, and reassure him that we would get someone to take care of his dog.

I did a stint of inner-city EMS too. The gang wars of the ‘90’s made for some spicy times. Shootings or stabbings were a daily occurrence. I wore a bullet proof vest every day I was in the city.

I morphed into law enforcement from there. I was a Special Deputy Sherrif in my home county. I was stationed on an explosives manufacturing facility that had govt contracts, so they had to have sworn law enforcement on plant site at all times. I carried Top Secret govt clearance for a while.

We were their police, EMS and fire dept.

I could handle explosives, wear SCBA, and was certified in confined space rescue. I was the smallest, skinniest, and strongest person so I got to go in the hole. I was also the only female on our small dept. I delt with building explosions, theft, and a whole other assortment of crap.

I was young, brave, strong, unafraid. I was fierce.

Now, I am old. I have arthritis in just about every joint in my body. My knees are fake. I wobble when I walk. I have trouble breathing. I work in a convenience store part time. I raise sheep.

How life has changed. I honestly never thought I would live past the age of 30. I always knew that I would end up in this life alone.

Yes, boy child is here, but it’s not the same as having a person who loves you there to hold your hand or rub your back. To bring you a cup of coffee in the morning and whisper I love you in your ear. To have someone you can share your worries with and figure out a plan to fix whatever needs fixing.

I watch these icons of my youth pass on to the next plane, and I feel even older and more alone.

I know it’s just the passing of time. That these things happen. That the things from my youth are gone, and the world is not the same as when I could ride my bike downtown, look around for loose change and buy myself a candy bar from Leaders dept store.

Different from when I could drive miles alone to see a concert.

Different from when I could hold the hand of someone in the back of an ambulance and make them feel reassured, that they will be ok, even when I know they won’t be.

It’s hard to reconcile the person I was to the one I am now. I’m pretty crusty, set in my ways, and crave my Lay-Z-Boy recliner. I got to bed at 7pm.

I would rather spend time with my sheep instead of people.

I miss my husband.

My youth is gone, and I face a rather uncertain future as my body breaks down on me. Someday I may be the person on the cot in the rig wondering if I’ll be ok and knowing I won’t.

I am alone, I worry, and there is a degree of fear. I’m not so fierce anymore.

I don’t know. I guess this is just hitting me harder than I thought it would. I had to get up and start writing all this down. It’s 4 am now, I’m on my second cup of coffee and I need to get in the shower soon for work.

What a long strange trip its been.

Blessed Be.