Grateful Dead: Generations

by thoughtsonthedead

Some things are funny; others make you smile. This is the latter.

Our man Phil showed up at his hash house for Super Bowl Sunday brunch and harmonized with his son with his grandkid in his arms. If the smile he and Grahame share around 2:15 doesn’t brighten your day, then I can’t help you, man.

All happiness is bittersweet, though, isn’t it? Baby Levon might by now more rightly be called Toddler Levon. Although, to his credit, he has maintained his position on fucks, i.e., he has none to give.

“Okay, I go with Grandma now.

“We’re in the middle of Ripple, Baby Levon.”

“Right. Okay. Grandma now.”

“It’s a short song, buddy.”

“A short song? Grampa, you weren’t in The Ramones: your idea of a “short song” is anything under 30 minutes.”

“What?”

“Goo goo ga ga.”

“I thought so.”

“But, still: Grandma now.”

“Okay.”

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