by Barley Lewis-McCabe
We’ve all seen him — you stop into Wildberries to briefly grab some lunch and you see the ragged hair and black t-shirt standing in front of the bulk foods. Maybe you stop into Pacific Paradise and see him walk out with an overflowing bag. You’re going down the road feeling fine; then, there’s a whiff of cigarettes and hot dog breath. He’s in us all: Jerry Garcia.
If you live in Humboldt, you’ve surely heard the Grateful Dead, even if you only knew it as that weird song playing in a coffee shop that just doesn’t end.
Jerry Garcia was the unofficial frontman of the Grateful Dead, and no doubt you’ve seen one of the memorials to him; a photo in the window of Humboldt Glassblowers or a shrine to him in the window of Tomo, maybe even as an apostle in a painting at Arcata Pizza and Deli. But, Jerry’s presence goes beyond print on paper and canvas — chances are, you’ve seen his disciples out and about.
Any man who settles down in Humboldt could inevitably start to look like Jerry Garcia. They let their beard grow, and over time, it slowly occupies more and more of the space on their head, all while their hair spreads out in any which direction creating the distinct silhouette. They let the smoke sit on their body, they shower less and let themselves live naturally — but they always wash their hands, because washing your hands is cool. Their eyebrows become bushier, the IPA belly gets bigger by the day and soon enough, he looks in the mirror and sees Garcia himself.
In 1995, Jerry Garcia was found dead with a smile on his face. He was a man who often struggled with the demons that frequently come with great creativity. He self-medicated and allowed those feelings to overwhelm him. I’m sure some of the men who’ve been consumed by the Jerry Garcia effect have experienced similar struggles.
That’s why the Grateful Dead grows like a tie-dyed fungus in between two ears, cultivating in bodies sometimes filled with pain and grief, absorbing and turning the strife into something new.
It’s not bad to turn into Jerry; it’s just men growing into a new period of their lives. It’s a stage of leisure, and evidence of good nights and good meals. In our culture of wrinkle-preventing straws and frozen plastic bodies, a man who’s succumbed to the Jerry Garcia Effect might not fit the traditional beauty standard. But what’s more beautiful than a life well-lived being obvious when you see a stranger?
A man could look like Jerry Garcia when he lets himself fall victim to unhealthy habits, or he could look like Jerry when he lets himself relax. When he turns down The Golden Road to Unlimited Devotion, when he settles down and becomes comfortable in his own skin, when he lets loose and just exists not to exist, but to live! We could all be so lucky to embody the man himself.
Barley is the photo editor and an untraditional reporter who focuses on social change and stories with a real human impact. If you’d like to reach him for whatever reason email bl258@humboldt.edu.