It was long ago, around the time of Woodstock, that music festivals became more prominent. ​In the early 70’s I was involved in putting on Twigstock I and II. It was a mere blip on a big screen with nothing famous to remember. But it was a sign of interest for me. In the following years, I attended a smattering of Grateful Dead shows, both indoors and out. While the music was the main draw for me, there was an attraction to the social mixing and sharing of commonalities. It wouldn’t be until the 90’s when I migrated to the String Creek watershed that some of those feelings reemerged. During the summer, neighbors would gather for volleyball on Sunday afternoons. This was followed with potluck dinners, libations and homemade music around the campfire. At first, these sessions were upstream; later on, they were in my yard.

Around the same time, Jerry Garcia moved on to another space. For me, that was a big loss. It was a matter of not missing the water until the well went dry. I was among the many people who trekked around looking ​for someone, or some thing, to fill the void. Toward the end of that decade, at one of our little community gatherings, someone suggested we import a band or two. Seemed simple enough to me. Just knock out a wall in that big storage building for a stage, enlarge our outdoor kitchen and bring it on. Since it was to be in my yard that drains off into the creek, and I was the only unofficial Deadhead, it became Dead on the Creek. I was anointed the Party Chairman. August 2001 was the first year. It went well enough to suggest continuation. Little to be known that it would only get more complicated. In the following years, the increase in number of people demanded better infrastructure, more attention to details, and wading through the complicated world of music.  

Despite consuming a huge amount of time and effort, we stayed on track. The underlying driving force was the collective energy of those who helped create the show, combined with those who came and shared in it. It was synergistic, inspiring and spiritually rewarding. As we got into the teen years, it was running fairly smoothly on all cylinders. The stage and sound crew accommodated top quality music. Libations flowed bountifully and the kitchen produced excellent meals. Most everyone seemed very happy to be here, especially the ever-growing pack of kids. By default, the festival was kept to around 400 participants. This place could not handle more than that. And while it would have been more financially secure to have increased the number, the smaller size created a more intimate flavor. No one had to be far from the stage, lines for service were minimal and social mixing was relaxed. Consequently, it was an optimum opportunity for creating some really good feelings. For me, it was akin to the better things experienced long ago at Dead shows and related gatherings of people. It was in 2015 that we got side-swiped by external forces. The details of this are best left to private conversation, with a bottle or two in hand. We enjoyed two more shows before the plug was pulled. The final song, on the final day was (as you may guess):  Uncle John’s Band.