Rolls And Rolls And Rolls Of Coins For That Minstrel Boy

What to say to/about Bob Dylan on the occasion of his 70th birthday tomorrow, May 24th, that isn't already being said by thousands of others on the Internet, airwaves, and in the print media? How about, thank you, Bob?

I've been listening intently to Bob for nearly thirty-four years. Around Christmas in 1977 I used a record store gift certificate to buy Bob's first Greatest Hits album and Neil Young's Decade--pretty astute purchases for a 14-year-old, I believe. I'd give anything to go back to those first few hours lying on my bed listening to that first clutch of Dylan songs and be able to pick the brain of that young boy. What did that odd, dry voice, those variously quiet and raucous sounds, that torrent of words all mean to me then, what did it all do to me? Years later I read quotes from Bob about not trying to understand his songs but to feel them, and from Bruce Springsteen about Bob freeing the mind like Elvis freed the body and how the opening of "Like A Rolling Stone" sounded like busting out of jail (or was that Bob talking about hearing Elvis? who cares, it's all the same)--I wouldn't have been able to articulate thoughts like those at 14, but I guess all of that is probably pretty accurate to the effect. My initial exposure to Bob's music presented me with a set of doors (some opened, others ajar, more seemingly locked but with a promise that with time they'd be priable) I didn't even know existed. Over the years those doors have opened into mazes of hallways and further doors, and I'm happy to say I'm still delirious to be lost in the maze and hunting around corners for more doors, as long as they're not marked EXIT.

I remember a few months after the purchase of that Greatest Hits album, while I proudly held my latest acquisition, Highway 61 Revisited (still my all-time favorite album), which was probably about the fourth or fifth Dylan album I had bought, my sister said to me, somewhat critically, "Are you going to buy all of his albums?" I'm sure defensively, like most 14-year-olds, I muttered something like, "No!" but inside I'm sure I was thinking, that's not a bad idea; probably, I guess. Mission long since accomplished.

I could go on and on blathering about What Bob Means To Me (and I had kind of planned on it), but really, what's the point? Ultimately it's a personal thing, and a few thousand words here would only serve to show how inarticulate trying to explain What Bob Means To Me would render me.

For a lifetime of pleasure, provocation, education, and inspiration, thank you, Bob. And Happy Birthday.

Bob Dylan and The Band--Minstrel Boy