Stephanie Strothmann, owner of Purple Shamrock Farm, holds a baby opossum on Shakedown Street at a Dead and Company concert Tuesday night in Noblesville.
Submitted photo
There is a John Prine song called “When I Get to Heaven,” which foreshadows John’s untimely demise in 2020 where he sings the lyrics “And I always will remember these words my daddy said.”
He said, “Buddy, when you’re dead, you’re a dead pecker-head.’”
I’ve giggled at that line because I think of the chickens on the farm with their ability to peck and the fact that sometimes I do call them words like these. Especially when one passes away, it truly becomes a dead pecker-head.
My thoughts with that line also turn to the band Grateful Dead and its late star guitarist and vocalist, Jerry Garcia. I heard songs by The Dead back in the ’80s such as “Touch of Gray” and “Truckin’” but never fully appreciated the folkish, easy rock that the band carries.
Fast forward to 30-plus years later and Grateful Dead seems to fit right in with farming for me. The easy melodies and thought-provoking lyrics seem to speak to me in this later stage of life.
The song “Ripple” makes my eyes misty as I think about taking a kayak down the river and the beauty which envelopes through low-hanging tree branches and river otters playing in fallen branches at the edge of the water.
The song “Terrapin Station” reminds me of the Queen song “Bohemian Rhapsody” with all of its music flavors in many different stages of the song. There is even a nod to madrigal music when reed instruments (oboe, recorder, etc.) play on the live version in May 1972.
After several years of listening to Grateful Dead music, I knew I wanted to see the band in person. Sadly, it would not be the original full band, but three of its remaining members (Bob Weir, Billy Kreutzmann and Mickey Hart) would be a part of it, and that was good enough for me. For those not in the know, the band is now called Dead and Company.
I got my chance recently to travel to see Dead and Company in an authentic 1972 VW Bus for the concert at Deer Creek (I’m one of those who will always know it as Deer Creek), aka Ruoff, Music Center in Noblesville on Tuesday.
Traveling with two well-seasoned “Deadheads” (people who love the music and follow the band), these guys knew exactly what to pack and also introduced me to “Shakedown Street.” At this concert, I also was granted a “miracle,” which is a free ticket to attend the show.
Shakedown Street is a marvel in itself. Every imaginable kind of tie-dye you could want, stickers, pins, hats, bandanas and, my personal favorite, grilled cheese. There is a flea market aura about the vendor fair with people putting signs at their booths asking for “Miracles.” Others are walking through the crowds with one finger in the air, a signal that someone is hoping for a miracle to see the show.
Most likely, 70% of these folks selling things at Shakedown Street are following the band throughout the country and are hoping to make enough cash to pay for gas and food until the next stop. A definite nomadic life.
We all know by now that I’m a Chicken Head by nature and I can talk to just about anyone. I had a ton of fun asking vendors where they were from and where they were headed next.
I even came across a person selling tie-dye that had a baby possum in a kennel who told me if I put something “shiny” in his plastic bucket that I could hold the critter. I told him I think he would prefer something paper and tossed $3 into the bucket. Next thing I knew, I was face to face with the small marsupial and found that this guy works with an animal rehab to let the creatures return to the wild when they’re ready.
When it was time for the concert, we began the short walk from Shakedown Street to the music center, and it was a great time. Needless to say, there was quite an aroma drifting around the crowd, so later, I needed to fumigate the clothing I wore (it definitely did not smell like chickens). That being said, it was a calm crowd, and I can’t wait for my next concert.
Perhaps I won’t ever be known as a Deadhead, but I can be known as the newly crowned Dead Chicken Head.
Until next time…
Stephanie Strothmann owns Purple Shamrock Farm LLC in rural Seymour. Read her blog at whattheclucker.blogspot.com. Send comments to [email protected].