It was a hot fucking day in July. We were young and gloriously naïve. The Grateful Dead were set to pack JFK for a jubilant celebration. Shakedown Street was shaking as all the Deadheads shopped for tie dyed t-shirts and kind grilled cheese sandwiches. JFK was an old decaying stadium and one could envision gladiators in leather helmets goingContinue reading “CRIMSON WHITE AND INDIGO”