Humble & Happy

On my way home from the county hazmat recycling center, I listened to the final chapter of Philip K. Dick’s Man in the High Castle. With a ‘less than satisfying’ ending, I felt……..

WAIT.

HOLD IT RIGHT THERE.

ALT.

How in the world can I even begin to critique any author, let alone one of PKD’s status? That would be like my calling out Jerry Garcia for a missed, muted or mangled note. Like dissing a Dean Chance no hitter because he walked two guys or slamming Robert Mueller because 45 is still in office. 

For me the real challenge is in the appreciation of the effort that goes into the work, the process and the incredible satisfaction that must surely come as a result of bringing what started as a nudge from the cosmos to fruition. Consider (if you will) the PKD body of work. Blade Runner, Minority Report, Total Recall, A Scanner Darkly. On and on. Classic science fiction. I could not hold his typewriter ribbon, so I am now, officially apologizing for finding even one of his sentences, let alone paragraphs, chapters, or volume less than spectacular. The nerve. 

Garcia may have played over more mistakes than anyone in the long and sordid history of Rock. Yet he was a pure artist always trying, searching, seeking the impossible. Magic was always in the cross hairs of his musical consciousness. For every sour misunderstood or ill timed passage there were a thousand others that crashed that nail to a pine wood floor. I have said many times, but, sadly, none very recently, that many of my ‘most happy’ moments on this planet were inside the mad gathering of freaks, clowns, saints and vagabonds known as Deadheads, dancing, singing, alive and caught in the net of Jerry’s powerful presence. 

I was a California Angels fan since their inception in 1961 when they shared Dodger Stadium with the other LA team, O’Malleys escapees from Flatbush. Dean Chance tossed a no-hitter when he was with the Minnesota Twins in 1967. I watched it on our black and white TV, I was in 8th grade at the time and felt I had a connection with him since I Dad had taken us to many games when he was the Angels ace. Fast forward to 1989 and the magazine publisher where I enjoyed the title of Distribution Director had just launched a new title called The Show. It was the official publication of the Major League Baseball Players Alumni Association. It was in Houston, Texas that I met Dean on the golf course during a fund raiser. After an energetic introduction I blurted that I was there when he pitched his no-no. He said, really, where was it? 

His look at my response (Anaheim) is a humbling moment I will most likely never forget. 

If you are going to compliment someone - make sure you have the details straight.

If you get confused - listen to the music play.

And don’t for a minute think that you have the chops to call out someone the stature of PKD.