Even More Kesey Tributes Page
Thanks to everyone who sent stuff in honor of Kesey.
If it's not on the site yet, it soon will be...Rick
From JT by way of IntrepidTrips.com
My heartfelt thoughts and prayers go out to every member of your
joyous clan; Kesey will be missed terribly.
I met Ken once after a Dead show in Oregon. He was throwing a
little shindig at the Eugene Armory . I waited until he was all
alone (no small feat) and proceeded to tell him about my father ,
a writer, and my adventures on tour all those years. He was
everything I had hoped my hero would be, full of graciousness and
warmth, even teaching me the secret handshake ( I've forgotten
how to do it) and wishing me well.
Tears are running onto this keyboard so I'll end with this:
Thank you Ken Kesey for being one of the legends who lived up to
the hype.
From Sandra by way of IntrepidTrips.com
Yesterday, I learned with regret and awe about the death of Ken Kesey.
In one of Mickey Hart's books, Mr. Hart writes about how proud he was
to be part of the Grateful Dead because their music was life changing.
Beyond life changing, you, Kesey, the Merry Pranksters and friends actually
changed the American cultural psyche. Even more amazing, you did it with
humor and grace. Apart from technology (witness this e-mail), I can't think
of any other phenomenom which ever accomplished such a feat, without it being
a catastrophic one (e.g. war and acts of nature). Can you? And, I've spent
a bit of time looking and studying this over the years.
Yesterday, before I learned about Kesey's death, my husband and I were
discussing over lunch traits we wish to see in our children. We identified
the ability to remove yourself from yourself and review your acts and life
objectively. The ability to get outside of yourself. We were pleased to
note that it appeared that our children were learning this trait. Then, we
bickered for awhile about whether or not this trait was an innate or taught
response to life. We decided that it was probably learned but that it took a
bit of intellect to learn this. We agreed that this was probably more
difficult to accomplish prior to the 1960's. You did this. You made it
easier for us to learn this. And, don't even try to kid yourself, this is
profound.
The inside of my wedding band is inscribed "11/17/79 Furthur." Way
back then, as I had this inscribed, I wondered if I would regret this
inscription. Not only don't I regret it, but it is more relevant to my life
today as it was way back in 1979. My hope for you, and the Kesey family, is
that this remains true for your lives also. All my best to you and the Kesey
family.
From Frank DeMarco by way of IntrepidTrips.com
Riding Point
Kesey's son went over
in a cosmic instant, in a car wreck,
and later Kesey sent a book
"to Jed, across the river
riding point." I always liked
what that showed he knew:
that death is change, not end;
that Jed remained himself,
if also something more; that
all our trails cross a river.
Yesterday, perhaps they met
and shared a fire, and coffee,
and, Kesey still being Kesey,
perhaps some hash. It's dusty work,
riding drag; good to change over
and finally ride in,
across the river
- Kesey died November 10, 2001
From Doug by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I've recently lost my Papo (maternal grandfather) on 9/25/01. A good
friend collapsed on the golf course last friday and passed on at age 49. And
coming home from work on Saturday night. . . . a slow night for some reason
at my prescription farm (pharmacy). . . . I popped in 5/7/89 2nd set at Frost
Ampitheater at Standford.
We traveled from Ohio in a '78 Honda Civic and prayed the thing wouldn't
break down and it didn't. The 2nd day at Frost my friend insisted that this
guy in front of us was Ken Kesey, but I was so stoned, I couldn't move and I
was driving home laughing to myself thinking of that happy moment 15 1/2
years ago.
I became almost paralyzed listening to a blistering "He's Gone" and
continued cruising around Virginia Beach on 11/10/01 to listen to the rest of
the show. I ended up parking my car, looking at the beauty of the lights of
Sandbridge Beach, VA in the darkness, the water of Back Bay splashing to the
shore. Jerry started to sing the encore, "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" and
tears started to run out of my eyes. I went home and held my girl friend
tight all night long.
Everything happens for a reason.
I just read about Ken this morning (11/12/01) in the USA Today. God
bless you all.
From Duke by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I remember walking up to the barn with a disco effect light. My
intentions were to mount it to a beam up high. After all it was designed with
a mounting plate so it could be securly fastened. As I approached the
entrance the Chief came out. He says cool light, Maybe hang it with a spring
or ?. Well I have been in the lighting biz for 20 years and I have never
mounted, installed or securely fastened anything with a spring! Now Puzzeled
by "Plan Z " I start my search to find a ssprrring or springz. I
eventually come across two bungee cords. Right on!, Close enough! After
connecting them to the light I wobble up a ladder and wrap em over the ole
barns rafter. Next I juice up the light and whoa! The light is casting its
usual beam effect but the motor is making the tethered light swing creating
another dimension... Who would or could of thought there was another way.
Thanks Mr. Kesey.
Thank You Chief, The Kesey's, Babbs and Pranksters for the Merry
Memories.
May the Force be with you Ken! Love, Peace ...
From Frank Wilford, World's Greatest Recreation Leader
NOv. 30 aught one
We were sitting around the gym office yesterday at the Kentucky State Penitentiary in Eddyville. I brought up the fact that Kesey had passed on to his Glory. Immediately, the Mayor Early McFall said,"either yore on the bus or ya ain't!"
I laughed and asked McFall, a junkie, how long ya been lookin' at your big toe?
He just nodded that old convict head and said
'been a Hell of muthafuckin' day round here and throw us a cigarette.'
I did.
McFall took a draw and said once again, git on the bus!
We talked about Harrison today.
From Jon by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I was just listening last night to a
tape of a show from McArthur Court at the university with you
"rappin" during a equipment malfunction and your beautiful
"crooning?".....hehehe, on "The Green Green Grass of Home"......Right after a
wonderful rendition by bobby of his famous "yellow dog story"......
You know, it may very well be odd, but Ken, I Love You all of you like ive
known you for years, and my thoughts are with all of you this Holiday
season......i watched a copy of the show "later, with Bob Costas" from around
91 i think it was. Kesey's on the show, i taped it, and he was talking about
keeping that "Warrior Heart".....that sticks with me and i do try to remember
it daily.......So "keep that Warrior Heart and that Warrior
thought".
From James by way of IntrepidTrips.com
for the last week or so ive been trying to come up with something to
say to you but couldnt think any so..... Ken keesy was one of the
most interesting people ive met i remember going to his house when i had
just turned 16 and going up into his barn were the owls nlived crazy goats
sheep now owls wats next then going into his house and every thing was a
different color not just his walls but his tv, speakers, his percuision
instruments everything and then his pets from the dog to the bird and even
the peacocks in his back yard then the swamp with the infamous "further" you
have no idea how cool that was for a 16 year old city boy to see then the 4th
of july party that was great people im sure you didnt even know were there
because of the pranksters. That was a summer that i will never forget.
From Terry Sciarrino
When I was in college I read about this book called The Electric Kool-Aid
Acid Test. So I went out and bought it. Then I read Koo-Koo's Nest and
Notion. After that I was a friend of Kesey's for life. My friends all read
them and we began to follow Kesey's exploits whenever possible. As Dead
Heads we were thrilled to see the link to Kesey and for the rest of his life
(and mine, so far) I have been a fan and a follower. So Long, Kesey, and
thanks.
From Michael by way of IntrepidTrips.com
It is good to read the good things written about Ken. I remember him as a
wrestler when I was at the U of O in the 1950s, and was impressed when he
departed from the fluff we were fed. It took a long time for me to join
up, but Ken's spirit was an influence. Now I can pass it on to others as
well.
Death is just a "bend in the road". This is the beginning of something new
for Ken and something we can share.
From Victor of Los Lobos by way of IntrepidTrips.com
Just wanted to say goodbye with Love from Los Lobos. I play drums and
percussion with the band , and we will be in Oregon this week. We will
think of Ken and Dedicate the night to him. We were honored to be the only
non bay area band on the first Furthur Festival. Ken will always be loved
and respected. Peace to all..
From Hutch pic by way of IntrepidTrips.com
These days the wheel keeps on turning. I thought, or hoped, that these times
would never happen.................its hard to believe that time takes its
toll, the losing of the ones that we admired, who showed us the way, showed
us that 'YES' it could be done. They are the human beings that walked the
talk, they lived what they believed. By showing us that you can be free and
live a life that isn't approved by the masses, yet live a life of grace and
dignity but remain brave enough to share it with us. To an adventurer,
voice, and 'a grayback' of mankind R.I.P.
If you don't like liver,
liver alone.
From David by way of IntrepidTrips.com
Sympathies from my family to yours...Kesey inspired me to think...then
to write...then to be amused at just about everything. One cool morning
in July, oh about 10 years ago now, my friend and I pulled up to the
Farm, with the intention of saying, "thanks for the brownies." Well
Kesey wasn't there, but Faye showed us the newer bus, and a nephew (I
believe) of his took us inside...we played for a good hour, and then
spirited away with a bunch of cool photos, and a story. I wrote this
poem on Saturday, normally I try to write what I know or think, this
time I wrote what I've read and heard and been influenced by, it goes
kind of like this:
NEVER TRUST A PRANKSTER:
So suddenly I felt empty,
Though I know not why
Could it be that knowing
You were somewhere
Made me think everything
Was all right?
Painted bus travels Further
Across infinite Day-Glo
Mindscapes of permeable time
Dean Moriarty at the wheel
And candy colored Kool-Aid
Mixed with a dose of circus jesters
And seals.
Life cools quickly
And leaves but stone cold flesh
Bodies of work and characters
Speaking from pages
Dripping with letters and ink
Material only in imaginative flesh.
Through test and festival
Be-in and show
The Scene is birthed and evolves
Through each method
You had chose.
Nary a Twirler or a Vendor
A Prankster or a Head
A Poet or a Tripper
Can help but bow
And utter words unsaid.
And Now for the BIG FINISH
This is better than the suicide note
This time it's believable
It's not what will be said
But how it's been wrote.
So long-I'll meet you
Down the road
For when I came calling
You certainly weren't at home.
Nothing left to do but smile smile smile
From Patty by way of IntrepidTrips.com
An important light of American letters has gone out. What I admired most
in Kesey's oeuvre was his merging, his conscious embrace of the country's
heartland with its fringe, those two exremes, the yin and yang of America's
character. What was Perry Lane? What was the bus? Mac--the iconoclast,
Bromdon--native soil. Redneck Hank nose to nose with college boy Leland.
Hollywood, the establishment myth maker crashing the Alaskan eden. Who rode
with him? Robt. Stone. Wendell Berry. Larry McMurtry. Shamans in his
tent? Cassidy. Ginsburg. Ram Dass. The Kesey frontier did not end at the
Pacific ocean.
"What keeps us from being monsters are Emerson and Thoreau and the Beatles
and Dylan--great artists who teach us to love and hold off on the hurt.
The hurt is inside of us, and of course we can always randomly hurt
something, but a great artist will teach you to love a thing and not want
to possess it or alter it--just to love it. You finally have to love Big
Nurse. It's the symbol behind her, the combine, that makes her do what she
does. You've got to fight that, but finally you've got to love them
all--the poor, broken human beings, even the worst of them."
God rest you merry gentleman.
From Dara by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I can not even begin to tell you how sad I am that such a great man has
passed on. You are probably hearing it right and left, and I can understand
it completely ... I am one of his biggest admirers.
As young as I am, I missed - in totality - the hippie generation but from
reading articles, stories and poetry by Ken Kesey, I learned a great lesson
about love and passion. His writing has touched me so deeply.
I am so heartbreakingly saddened to hear that he will not write another
novel here on earth but will look forward to seeing what magic he performs
in his afterlife. Because, although I did not know him, I firmly believe
that Ken Kesey was a man of magic.
It isn't much but I wrote him my own personal tribute on my web site and I
hope that you will read it and understand how much I feel for this man that
I never met.
From Monk by way of IntrepidTrips.com
deep into the void i too go.
how far did he?
I met KEN in eugene last '99. I tell my friends the story all the time.
" I helped KEN KESEY pull out a stake so the folks would not hurt themselves
tryin to reach MICKEY and the band; and so HE could get his bus accross."
I never read any of his books. I think I understand the journey anyway.
my truth is.....NOW.
and now that KEN is gone; NOW IS MY TURN TO GO EVEN-FURTHER!
I send my energy to all in need of some
positivity:)
From Matthew by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I met Kesey twice in New York, when my son was two. I made my praise of him
very clear with my entry in the FURTHUR coloring contest and actually won.
Inspired so much by his writings, I wanted to make contact in whatever way.
Well, Kesey and I chatted and that was great - but he also made a big
impression on my 2 year old, who remembers him well, though admits some of
his memory is clouded byt the video tapes of Kesey he has seen since. It is
sad to think that I will never be able to take Kesey up on the offer to
visit him in Oregon, but as Dylan says "I'll see you in the sky above, in
the tall grass and the ones I love."
Bye, Kesey, you were the Chief to more than you'll ever know.
From Dee by way of IntrepidTrips.com
Ken Kesey, the original Merry Prankster, author, bright spirit, energy
center of Oregon's Willamette Valley, intrepid tripster, inspiration and
friend to many, passed away today. He made his transition at 4:30 in the
morning, a fitting time for a restless soul to slip away, between the fog and
dark of night, before the glare of morning light could seep in and steal his
thunder.
Many of us were touched by his prose and his poetry. Who didn't relate
to McMurphy's lunatic heroism in Cuckoo's Nest or feel the mind numbing
effects of the tenacious Northwest rain in Sometimes a Great Notion.
Strangely, Cuckoo's Nest is enjoying a renaissance. I recently saw a
wonderful small theater production of it in California. Obviously his work
will live on, through his novels and poetry and children's books, past the
earthly time of the man himself. But there are smaller, more intimate ways
that his life had meaning for me.
I wasn't a close friend of Ken's. Wasn't on his Christmas card list or
his rolodex. Mostly my connection with him was once removed, through an old
friend who kept me feeling a part of, on the periphery, but still touched by
the energy field of his activities. I heard yesterday that he was in the
hospital. I didn't know then how long he'd been there or the specifics of his
health issues. Last night my mind was so full of thoughts and emotions that
sleep didn't come easy.
Then this morning I heard the news that he'd passed. Complications from
surgery to remove the tumor. Liver cancer. Related to Hepatitis C. I've got
Hep C, too. Everytime someone passes away from it I feel my own mortality
creep closer. I have to write about it, about Ken Kesey, about the ways our
lives touch each other without us even knowing it. I have to write about
what's left, about the memories I'll carry with me.
I'll remember his crazy antics in the early days of the Oregon Country
Fair and his Poetic Hoo Hahs at the U of O, the wild concerts known as Field
Trips in Eugene, and the first time I went to a Trips Festival at San
Francisco State in the '60's and danced to a new band called the Grateful
Dead. I'll remember my first trip to Eugene, with my old friend Fancy Nancy,
whose boyfriend at the time, Gordon, had a sister named Mountain Girl who was
with Ken Kesey then.
I'll remember Nancy telling me that she and Gordon were moving to
Eugene and that it was a wild and wonderful place to be. That the Merry
Pranksters were there, and their bus, "Further," was parked at Ken's farm in
the little burg of Pleasant Hill, just to the east of Eugene. I'll remember
driving up with them and staying at Kesey's farm and waking to the
beautifully eerie sounds of the calls of the peacocks who strutted and
preened around the property.
I'll remember how my little girl, Heather, a toddler at the time and 34
years old now, loved the farm and the animals and the freedom that hung in
the air all around the place. I'll remember years later going back there to a
Field Trip and seeing Further, retired from general use, rusting in gallant
stateliness in a field, while the newer, shinier bus stood in readiness
nearby.
My friend Nancy went on to work at the Springfield Creamery, owned and
run by Ken's brother Chuck and his wife Sue. Nancy became the yogurt queen,
creating her much loved acidophilus yogurt which started as a local
concoction for special occasions and is now found in stores all over the ding
dang place.
She and Gordon went their separate ways and Nancy eventually met the
love of her life, Jerry Hamren, married him and had two beautiful daughters.
We talked tonight about the amazing effect Ken had on our lives and I blurted
out, "You owe your whole family to Ken." She laughed her Fancy Nancy laugh
and said, "I guess I do. Who knows where I would have gone if it hadn't been
for Ken and the community he created and his invitation to come to Eugene."
It was one of those life defining moments, her move north from the Bay Area.
Ken effected lots of people's lives in similar ways. I didn't move to
Eugene, but I continued to visit over the years, renewing my connection with
Nancy and getting my annual dose of Eugene-style hilarity. Even after the
'60's were long past, the spirit of love and fun and freedom lived on there.
Especially after the '60's, I hungered for the lunacy, the celebration of
life in all its colors, that Ken and his joyously crazy bunch kept alive.
And now he's moved on. Left us to fend for ourselves and find our own
inner Hoo Hah. Wherever he is, I send a prayer of thanks to Ken Kesey, for
his vision and his creativity and his life. And mostly for the wild
possiblities he made real for us. In the words of Pink Floyd, "Shine on, you
crazy diamond."
From Jeff by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I just wanted to drop a short note to simply say that I'm sorry to hear of
your loss. In fact, not only your loss by the entire world's loss. At 28
I've emassed quite a collection of literature on the sixties psychedelic and
hippie movement, with much revolving around those merry pranksters. It's
touched me, moved me and has helped to mold me into the character that I've
become.
My thoughts are with you and tonight we will send a little smoke signal to
the sky in Ken's beatiful memory.
From Andrew by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I worked on a documentary with a close wigged-out
weirdo tripper friend of mine that brought us to the
homestead of Ken and Faye...your hospitality was
brilliant at a time, as a young man, when I most
needed soulful direction and a reality-check.
The experience will last forever and sustain me
further.
Thanks Ken! And my best wishes to you all...friends
and trippers.
From Paul by way of IntrepidTrips.com
It was all great fun, we were very young and all the girls were
beautiful all the boys were handsome. Tucked tween the redwoods in
the dark shadows, La Honda pulled you down the winding road from the
sunlit highlands of Skylonda. You corkscrewed into the primeval wood,
crossed the shaky bridge into Hansel and Gretels hut where some most
curious chemicals lofted you along the openheart highway. And Faye
lovely, ethereal Faye with the eternal patience of the Madonna kept
the center intact while the whirligig children streamed through her
gingerbread hut. Ken was the fuse that electrified the plant Faye
was the mother that brought us all to earth. Neal jibbertyjumped the
motor when the battery began to fail and we would race up that windy
road laughing and cackling to the mad tales of the jabberman. All
sinew and bone he screwed your girlfriends and made you feel lucky.
And those stories, you followed them at the risk of your sanity,
handsome young Bradley tagging along, having left Stanford and tennis
and the perfect blonde world behind, jagging down Nealīs raggedy
road. But I was restless and could not abide the tribal ties, India
was waiting, I left Rancho Diablo, Carolyn, Joan, Neal, Bradley and
all the raggle taggle gypsys oh for Aum on the range. And now I
wonder what it would have been like to stay just a little longer, I
know when I said to Ken I had been a wrestler too that his eyes
sparkled and I know he took my measure and we would have gone to the
mat one day and who knows, it could have been a grand friendship.
Those cold damp fogs of La Honda always lifted and a thin grey spirit
veil filtered upwards, dissappearing into the sun, ah but wasnīt it
glorious.
From Stillwater
I only had the honor of meeting Kesey once. It was just a regular day, and I
was new to Eugene, learning my way around town on the city bus, when we
pulled into the station on the same city block where I attended his memorial
service three years later, and I spyed the Further Bus on the sidewalk.
Being from Mississippi, it was a miracle I even knew what the bus was, but
some wise soul once handed me a copy of the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test,
which I devoured, and I soon found myself at a Dead show in New Orleans, then
more shows, and Rainbow Gatherings, and I considered myself about as much on
the bus as I was going to get. But out of the blue, for the grand opening of
Chez Rays, the bus appeared. The spelling was different than I remembered
from the book, but given the attention it was drawing, there was no mistaking
that this was it. Beside the bus, unobtrusively and alone, stood a man
playing some kind of instrument that changed pitch when he moved a wand
through the air, not touching anything visible. I had a feeling it was him
but i couldnt be sure so I inquired if I might ask his name as he looked
familiar, and he said he gets that alot, and that he was Kesey, and shook my
hand. There was really no way to express to him that had I not read the
Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, the roads I chose would not have led me to the
very bus I considered myself already on, because it was only in retrospect
that I realized it myself. Without doubt, though, I would never have seen
the Dead or been to a Rainbow Gathering, I would not have been in Eugene at
that instant, I would never have escaped from Babylon or even wanted to,
and my life would not have been worth living. All I could say, however, was
that it was an honor to meet him. I never saw him again, but I will be
literally eternally grateful that his circle encompassed my link in the
unbroken chain and brought me a measure of peace throught this world of
trouble. Considering the hundreds of people at his service in the McDonald
Theater, and their decorum and reverence, I'm by no means the only one.
From Greg (on the bus since 10/30/70) by way of IntrepidTrips.com
i was very sad to hear about keseys passing. luckily i was promoting a steve
kimock show that evening and was able to be with many old friends that
night.kesey started it all and my life has been richer because of him. god
bless you ken kesey. say hi to jerry,pigpen,brent and all the rest of our
friends where ever they may be.
From Jeff by way of IntrepidTrips.com
i am sorry for the gobbleygook but that is the dink kind of week that
this has been. i salute the transition and translation of my friend
and countercultural hero the swashbuckler the non-navigator, kenneth
elton kesey cast off his starry mantle on 11-10-2001 almost two
months since the disaster. ken did not need to live in a world like
this but a world like this is one who needed him the most. of
all the things he said to thy own self be true, and it is true even
if it never happened and it did. i love you so much to a
towering redwood of spirit a blue whale of a soul, and a
everest of humility, and a marianas trench of love, the most
boundless, creative, joyful human being has taught it and what it
means to really stay human in these times. i have gotten for more
feed back that not for that. we are almost done with grandpa's
barn and that shows that nothing lasts. well you are one in the heart for me love kaye and the kids as
always love jj to shannon, zane, jed, kaye, sunshine, mg, geo, cathy,
trixe and anna.
From Lee by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I was surprised I did not hear of Ken's passing, I lived through the
sixties mostly on the east coast so the merry prankster's were essentially
a product of a tom wolfe book. Several years later my brother gave me a
copy of "Sometimes A Great Notion"... This was a wonderful experience for
me at the time I lived in a logging town in north VT. I have read it twice
since. It is kind of a bible for America. I always pictured Ken as kind
of a Hank Stamper. Earlier this year Ken sent me this email I was touched
I will treasure this little bit of electric mail always. He was very good
at connecting! Of course the subsequent movie left something to be desired
but I saw it in small theater in Hardwick, VT to the cheers of the
lumberjacks, it was great! My best wishes to you all. ( I of course
laughed so hard while reading coo coo's nest on a plane I thought they
might put me off the plane)
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