I seem to be one of those people who lives on the edge of history, but never quite connects with it. For example, when George Harrison was pursued up Haight Street in San Francisco, I was in the adjoining Panhandle Park but only heard about it afterwards. Jimi Hendrix’s brother used to drop by to visit a friend at my household in Seattle, but I never met Jimi, who was in London at the time. When I did get to London, I was nearly bowled over by Princess Margaret and her children at Liverpool Street Station. Apparently protocol prohibits them from moving aside for lesser beings. And now I read that up to $100,000 is being paid for tickets to the last Grateful Dead concert in Chicago. Dare I mention that I once attended a concert of theirs at a small venue in northern California as a guest of Pigpen at no cost at all? However that was my first and last encounter with the group and if you have no idea what any of this is all about, go ask your grandparents.