Father's Day Write-Off: Bob Dylan, My Father, and Myself
Jun 11 '01 (Updated Jun 22 '01)
The Bottom Line One of the greatest gifts my father ever gave me was an appreciation for Bob Dylan. After all, he introduced me to the greatest songwriter/poet of the past hundred years.
This is my contribution to the Father’s Day Write-Off, hosted by sumo_rhino. A complete list of participants and URL’s can be found at http://www.gpaulray.com/writeoff/ - check it out!
“This write-off celebrates our dads. Each participant chooses a topic for review based on its relevance to his/her relationship with his/her father. Participants may choose a favorite movie, a beloved destination, a cherished album, or any other item/service that offers remembrance of their fathers” – sumo_rhino
My father lives over twelve thousand miles away. We are separated by “the tyranny of distance.” Yet all I have to do is play a Bob Dylan album and memories of Dad come flooding back. Sometimes it feels like he is in the room with me, tapping his feet, maybe dancing a little, the two of us providing the kind of vocal accompaniment that makes Dylan sound like Sinatra.
My father has been a Bob Dylan fan for about thirty years now. Although Dylan is almost a decade older than Dad, they have both lived through many of the same events, and indeed been shaped by them – the Hippie era, Vietnam, the Civil Right’s movement, JFK’s assassination, religious conversions, marriage, fatherhood, etc. The story of Dylan’s life is in many respects the story of Dad’s life. Listening to Dylan’s music reminds Dad of certain events or periods of his life, whether it was his longhaired, drug-using hippie era, or his conversion to fundamental Christianity, the birth of his four children, or his eventual abandonment of fundamental Christianity. Likewise, listening to Dylan not only reminds me of my father and both major and minor events in his life, it also reminds me of the times Dad and I have shared, and all the intellectual gifts he has given me (by “intellectual gifts,” I am not referring to high IQ. I am referring to a love for literature and music and an environment that encouraged artistic pursuits).
When I hear Lay Lady Lay, I remember Dad dancing with Mum in the living room and singing, “Lay Lady Lay, lay across my big brass bed” to her with a mischievous grin. When I hear Sara I remember nights drinking wine beside the fireplace, the record crackling between tracks. When I hear Rainy Day Women I think of my parents smoking grass with their friends before I was born, and of myself following their example in Amsterdam many years later.
I spoke to Dad on the telephone just a few days after Dylan’s 60th birthday, which also happened to be my brother’s 30th birthday. Dad remarked that Bob’s reaching 60 made him feel quite young at 50. If Uncle Bob can continue to tour the world relentlessly at 60, then surely Dad can achieve a few more of his dreams in his remaining years (which I hope will be many).
When I listen to Dylan I get a kick out of knowing that on the other side of the world my Dad is doing the same thing. Maybe not at that very moment, but close enough. We know the words to the same songs. We’ve sung them on our own and we’ve sung them together. He sings them in Australia while I sing them in America.
How does it feel?
Oh how does it feel,
To be on your own?
With no direction home,
Like a complete unknown,
Like a rolling stone?
When I left home at the age of eighteen to attend University in Melbourne I soon discovered a void in my life – I didn’t own any Dylan albums! I had always listened to Dad’s, but now found it absolutely necessary to start my own collection. Like anyone living away from home for the first time, I had bouts of homesickness, but I found that the best cure was to listen to Dylan (or Carole King or James Taylor) while drinking port. Listening to my parents’ favourite made me feel like I was home again, and it still does.
I was raised in a house full of books and music by parents who loved learning and knowledge (my father taught English, History and Geography for many years). It was only natural that I should grow up to be a lover of books, music and poetry. One of the greatest gifts my father ever gave me was an appreciation for Bob Dylan. After all, he introduced me to the greatest songwriter/poet of the past hundred years. I plan on passing the torch of Dylan-appreciation on to my children. In fact, if I am lucky enough to have a son of my own he will be named Dylan. Dad will get a kick out of that.
I am unable to share Father’s Day with my Dad this year, though I am fortunate enough to be able to be with him in Melbourne for his birthday on July 1st. I will make up for my absence on Father’s Day by drinking some Australian wine, giving the old man a call, and of course, playing a few Dylan albums and singing along terribly. I just might even address a few lines of Lay Lady Lay to my wife.
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