Rock Scully (1941-2014) R.I.P.

Rock Scully crossed the great divide this morning. I got the call he was passing just as I was about to load up the car for a visit to Monterey to see him. Those of you lucky enough to have known him know that despite his human frailties, he was a loving, gentle, bright (actually brilliant), handsome, witty and especially charming rogue who brought people together, made them laugh and grow, and had a huge, generous heart.
Our fourteen year love affair felt like it was still in full swing when I spoke to him by phone in the hospital this morning. I could hear his labored breathing and his girl friend, Christina, assured me that he was responsive to my words.
His graciousness and generosity can be summed up in the words he said to me on the day back in the summer of ’69 that we knew for sure that we were in love—When I told him I was six weeks pregnant with my then separated husband, his response was, “You will be so beautiful!” Who could resist that statement at such a vulnerable moment.
He took on Spirit (Acacia) as if she were his own, and then gave me Sage, who will be having her second child, a boy, this coming March.
The years I spent with him, and through him, the Grateful Dead, were some of the most exciting times imaginable—from Woodstock to our farm in Forestville (now the California School of Herbal Studies) to Europe and Saturday Night Live, we were part of a weird kind of rock and roll royalty, and loved every moment of it. For six years we were the New Year’s skeletons, dancing on stage at midnight, often after being dropped from the ceiling tossing roses. We measured the success of a concert by how much our cheeks hurt from smiling, and those experiences set a bar that is rarely reached to this day. It was Rock’s ticket that took me to Egypt that first time in 1978.
My dear, beloved Rock, I wish you smooth, sweet travels in the next stage of your soul’s journey.

Nicki Scully