It’s that special day again, when children and adults are encouraged to put their heartfelt emotions on public display, whether those feelings are authentic or not.
I appreciated my son’s sentiment years ago when he made and shared this Valentine with his classmates:
But this one from Wildebeest is my all-time favorite:
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY TO ALL OF YOU! (AND I REALLY AND TRULY MEAN THAT FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!)
Last week I turned 50 years old.
(image from morguefile.com matthew_hull)
Even when the birthday isn’t a major psychological milestone,
it’s hard for me to feel celebratory in late November
when the days are short and the gloom seems to stretch on forever.
Which is why I planned ahead and made arrangements for our family
to fly to San Diego and stay in a condo on the beach in Oceanside.
I really, really wanted solid family-bonding time because our
last few tumultuous years yielded less-than-heartwarming vacations.
This family time would be different, dammit!
And it was.
Wildebeest and I took morning walks on the beach,
talking and laughing.
Zebu and I shared a nighttime stroll,
watching the silhouettes of shorebirds
in the lights of the distant pier.
There was football, Frisbee, and boogie-boarding.
Sunshine,
surfers,
and sanderlings (my favorite busy-busy shorebird).
I saw dolphins just beyond the line of surfers, gracefully cutting through the water,
and Zebu got to see his first sunsets over the Pacific; he took this photo from our balcony:
I shot pool for the first time in years and regaled my sons with tales of
my many years playing in bars and pool halls. My performance was
streaky, but I made enough good shots that Zebu commented it was
obvious I used to play a lot. (Score one for Mom!)
Months ago when I made arrangements, my plan was to
celebrate my birthday by running on the beach for 50 minutes,
and run I did (along with Zippy). My altitude lungs were tickled to
be at sea level, my trail-running feet were grateful for the mostly
flat beach, and my bird-loving heart was thrilled by the constant
presence of gulls, pelicans, crows, willets, and curlews. I smiled
and waved and called out greetings to my feathered friends as I ran.
We went 5.69 miles in those 50 minutes, the final mile our fastest.
Then we soaked in a hot tub.
Now we’re back home in Colorado dealing with our real lives, the
skin-shriveling dry air, and a lack of happy-inducing negative ions.
However, I’ve got a mental scrapbook filled with wonderful memories and a
healthy start on how I’ll define life after fifty.
Plus this lovely souvenir from our family vacation in Oceanside, California.
Several years ago I decided I would not, could not vote for Obama again.
Not because I believe Obama is a Kenyan-born Muslim Socialist who was
once The Most Liberal Senator Ever; there are boatloads of facts refuting each of these
claims and I wish people would either do the research or shut the hell up.
Really, it’s disheartening to share citizenship with so many people who
grasp at faux issues rather than recognize that our two-party system is offering us
two candidates who operate right-of-center and are both bent on creating an oligarchy.
The differences between Obama and Romney** are mostly a matter of degrees (see the Foreign Policy debate for their Israel love-fest, Iran hate-fest, and who-would-use-more-predator-drones-to-kill-more-Muslims-fest).
Here’s a partial, reality-based list of reasons for my anger at Obama:
climate change inaction
predator drone murders
assassination of US citizens without due process
the Tuesday morning kill list
war on whistleblowers
“Grand Bargain” to destroy Medicare, Medicaid, and Social Security
income inequality
Wall Street profits
blocked investigation/prosecution of torture
record number of immigrant deportations
Not to mention, the oft-cited truth that while Republicans fear their base,
Democrats hate their base.
There are many other reasons, some less quantifiable than others.
For instance, Obama’s betrayal of young people’s hope and involvement
after he rode in on an overwhelming mandate and then squandered the
opportunity for positive action, thereby creating mass disillusionment.
Also, the fawning Democratic establishment that thinks as long as it’s
a so-called Democrat in the White House, all actions are justifiable (even
those actions that caused outrage when committed by a Republican president).
And a related item: as a result of that Democratic denial, a lack of an opposition party
which means Obama reacts to extremists and continues to move the discussion/policies
to the right with few in power willing to call him out on this, much less put up roadblocks.
So.
After living through what is essentially Bush’s third term, my thinking was I’d be a hypocrite
if I voted for Obama after raging against the Bush administration’s policies for eight years.
I would definitely vote for either Justice Party candidate Rocky Anderson or Green Party
candidate Jill Stein.
Then I read Daniel Ellsberg’s piece on why angry progressives in swing states should vote
against Romney/Ryan by voting for Obama. I have huge respect for Ellsberg
as a whistleblower and an anti-war activist, and his words carry tremendous weight
with me. If this nation’s most famous whistleblower believed it was in the country’s
best interest to reelect the president who has prosecuted more whistleblowers
than all previous presidents combined, I needed to think hard about my vote.
After much thought, I decided I’d vote “for” Obama.
(Coco doesn’t care about the election, but I thought she’d provide a fun break in the text.)
That decision only lasted several days. Because then I read Matt Stoller’s piece
making the progressive case against Obama, and I remembered all over why
I didn’t want to cast a vote in Obama’s favor. I would vote Anderson or Stein.
But then I read Dan Froomkin’s article about the betrayal of progressive activists working on a multitude of issues. These are people who devote their lives to activism and who were shut down by the Obama administration, yet some of them believe it’s still best to reelect Obama rather than Romney. If they could swallow their disappointment and keep fighting Obama on those issues, maybe I could, too. After all, the LGBT community put the pressure on him and he finally came out in support of gay marriage (a HUGE step and one for which I give Obama absolute credit.)
Tomorrow is election day and I still don’t know how I’ll vote.
I have never been more conflicted about a presidential vote in my entire life.
I have always been disappointed in the candidates and have always voted the
“lesser of two evils,” but I don’t know if I can do that again.
But no matter what, I will cast a vote for president.
(And I can only hope if Obama loses Colorado by one vote,
Zebu doesn’t keep his promise to throw a rock at my head).
**While it’s true Romney/Ryan are bat-shit crazy regarding women’s reproductive rights,
the Democrats are always willing to use women’s health issues as a bargaining chip
so I’m not convinced it’s a big enough reason to vote against my conscience on every other issue when the Dems happily enable the erosion of women’s reproductive rights.
It’s been a while since I shared anything about Wildebeest and Zebu
so I dedicate this Friday’s post to the boys.
1) Wildebeest opted to not attend college and is living in a duplex
with a bunch of guys, some of them students and others co-workers
from Casa Bonita. He’s quite content with his life, and he and I have
lots of phone conversations. Now that we no longer live together
we’re free to like each other again.
Self-portrait from years ago.
2) Wildebeest has a new friend he calls Bernice. He adopted her
from a cat rescue place and they love each other very much. I
bought her some cat toys and only felt slightly grandma-esque.
3) Zebu is a junior this year and last night I went to his teacher
conferences. He’s doing very well and I was an especially proud
mother when two teachers in a row told me they appreciated
his sarcastic sense of humor.
Old passport photo we just updated this week.
4) We’re easing into basketball season and Zebu is looking
forward to being a taller, stronger player this year. He lifts weights
at school and the club but is kind enough to help me with my form
as I lift at home. (Turns out I was rocking my body during hammer curls).
5) Wildebeest is coming over on Monday night to watch the Broncos-
Chargers game and while I usually take those opportunities to disappear,
I think I’ll stick around and watch the game with the menfolk.
Wishing everyone a beautiful, autumnal weekend!
I’m sure all sorts of other stuff has been going on but it feels as if it’s been CARS – 24/7.
image from morguefile.com (by Gracey)
Oy.
The front left fender is smashed in but no one got hurt so it’s all okay.
I haven’t started in on the insurance issue yet because I need a little more rest before I’m ready to tackle all that.
Oh, and the brakes?
There’s nothing wrong with them.
We found out, however, that there was a recall on another pump which was replaced at the dealer yesterday
and we’re hoping the ensuing electrical failure was what caused the brakes to go out.
For some reason Zebu only wants to drive the Subaru.
1) Zebu turned 16 this week and got his driver’s license.
Knowing him, that’s what he was dreaming about in this old photo:
2) Zippy is training for the MS 150 Colorado Bike Ride next weekend
and has been going on looong rides in the 90+ degree temperatures plus
commuting to work via bike which means a return ride of 12+ miles uphill.
(It’s a good cause and he’s low on fundraising so if you have a couple bucks
to toss his way he’d be thrilled).
3) Wildebeest is living with Casa Bonita workmates and enjoying
the freedom of a home so messy he temporarily lost his phone.
4) I am waiting to hear back from a critique partner on my revisions
before I can finally, finally send them off. In the meanwhile I’m revisiting the project
I set aside several months ago and tweaking the synopsis with a new perspective.
5) The nest cam is still running at Cornell University and here’s the youngest
hawk looking quizzical on her return visit to the nest the other day:
I’ve been out of the loop here but hope everyone is doing well.
Wishing you all a great weekend!
I've been scarce around these parts and the longer I stayed away,
the harder it was jumping back in.
What to say to make up for the long silence?
How could I justify a return to blogging when the planet kept spinning without my input?
Then it hit me: where would you guys get your red-tailed hawk fix if I wasn't around?
This is a screen grab from May 23.
Zebu thinks it's a nightmare-inducing image, but I like it.
Hope you do, too.
Wishing everyone a lovely weekend.
Know what I’ve been doing?
Watching a pair of Red-Tailed Hawks in Ithaca, New York.
Wait, Tracy. I thought you were in Colorado.
That’s true, but the Cornell Lab of Ornithology has a nest cam on a light pole
about the athletic field where this pair has nested for at least the last four years.
And I’m watching.
(Wildebeest and Zebu think it’s a bit creepy to spy on birds without
their consent and I agree somewhat, but my curiosity wins out).
This is the female (designated Big Red) during her nest shift:
Here is what’s underneath: the first hawklet that hatched early yesterday morning
and the two pipped eggs:
I’m including this second screen save because right then I saw movement in the egg on the left and the already-born hawklet was leaning in and chirping, as if offering encouragement. (I know . . . anthropomorphism alert!)
(Also, I believe that red mass in the upper right is the remains of a pigeon.
Hawks are birds of prey, after all. Apologies for the graphic image but I’m just
learning how to do screen saves and that image was “grabbed” with everything else).
As I mentioned to a friend yesterday I thought my birthing experiences were hard
work (and they were), but I was never rained and snowed upon or worried about
attacks from owls or had to deal with one newborn while two others struggled to hatch.
Whew.
One more shot of the ever-vigilant mama:
(Warning: I’m sure I’ll be back with more shots of the next hawklet . . .)
EDITED TO ADD:
Here’s an exhausted hawklet #2 leaning against third egg in process of hatching:
Here are both hawklets while #1 gets fed:
And one more, just because:
1) Whenever fifteen-year-old Zebu winks at me, I swing between feelings of admiration and intimidation since I’ve never felt confident enough of my winking ability to do so.
image from morguefile.com
2) At my suggestion eighteen-year-old Wildebeest is reading Stephen King’s MISERY, and enjoying himself mightily.
3) Zoey and Coco want me to remember that when I choose to bathe them and
spray them with water, I must be prepared for the relationship to suffer a loss of trust.
© Tracy Abell 2012
4) Zippy is reading a library e-copy of 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami, a 944-page
novel, and was thrilled to discover even though his copy is overdue he can
still read it as long as he doesn’t close the file.
5) I’ve been battling flu-like symptoms much of the week but plan to get
on the treadmill in a couple hours for my cardio workout, and hope to feel
those “endolphins” kick in (so I’m, in the words of Zippy, “swimming in the dolphin tank.”)
image from morguefile.com
Wishing everyone a lovely weekend!
I share a home with three males,
and often feel odd-person-out.
Males and females are different in many ways,
and I'm not just talking an appreciation of farts.
In addition to the gender gap there are also generational divides
between Zippy and me, and our teenage sons.
Oldsters and youngsters don't always have the same outlooks,
and not just because certain people can stay up all night.
There's also the whole issue of us being individuals,
which fosters our unique perspectives on the world.
When I think about it this way, it's nearly a miracle
the four of us can agree on anything.
But we do.
And on days of particularly bumpy familial relations
(I'm looking at you, Today!),
I find it helpful to reflect on the list of our shared interests:
1) All four of us love Arrested Development!
2) All four of us love The Clash!
3) All four of us love Indian food!
4) All four of us love March Madness!
If you were to draw a Venn Diagram of this household,
those would be the four major points of intersection
between Zippy, Wildebeest, Zebu, and me.
And as you know, we are now in the month of March
which means we can focus on our shared passion for non-stop college basketball.
Save this family, March Madness!
I am thankful in many Zebu-related ways, including . . .
Last Friday Zebu and team were on bus coming home from basketball game, everyone singing, when a freshman vomited all over and everyone moved as far away as possible, except Zebu who stayed and held a bag while the boy continued to get sick.
On Tuesday I received a call from the school trainer saying I needed
to take Zebu for x-rays because he’d hurt his elbow in practice but
after rushing to school and then to doctor’s, the x-rays showed no breaks!
Last night when I was in bed reading a book, Zebu came upstairs to ask if we could pick up his friend who’d been in a fight with his father and gotten kicked out, and so we drove around until we found him and then Zebu grabbed his heartbroken friend in a hug to let him know how much he is loved.
It’s been tough this past month but I am exceedingly grateful Zebu has
his friends and teachers. Being a teenager can be so very difficult
and I am thankful Zebu has support which allows him to navigate these years with kindness and dignity.
image from morguefile.com
I am thankful in many Zebu-related ways, including . . .
Last Friday Zebu and team were on bus coming home from basketball game,
everyone singing, when a freshman vomited all over and everyone moved as
far away as possible, except Zebu who stayed and held a bag while
the boy continued to get sick.
On Tuesday I received a call from the school trainer saying I needed
to take Zebu for x-rays because he'd hurt his elbow in practice but
after rushing to school and then to doctor's, the x-rays showed no breaks!
Last night when I was in bed reading a book, Zebu came upstairs to ask if we
could pick up his friend who'd been in a fight with his father and gotten kicked out,
and so we drove around until we found him and then Zebu grabbed his heartbroken friend
in a hug to let him know how much he is loved.
It's been tough this past month but I am exceedingly grateful Zebu has
his friends and teachers. Being a teenager can be so very difficult
and I am thankful Zebu has support which allows him to navigate these years
with kindness and dignity.
image from morguefile.com
Over winter break, one of Zebu's classmates committed suicide.
I thought I'd cried myself out during the candlelight vigil
that followed three days later but discovered this past weekend at the
boy's service there is no limit to tears.
As I watched Zebu and friends consoling one another,
holding each other,
crying,
I thought I'd break in two.
And for the first time I absolutely, fully and completely,
understood how suicide transfers the pain of one onto many.
Years ago I was in a very sad place that didn't offer much light or hope,
and didn't think I could continue.
This weekend as I witnessed all that grief, I was so grateful
I'd made it through to the light and spared others my pain.
My heart aches for the boy who was unable to, in that moment,
find a glimpse of something to keep him going.
My heart aches for the family and friends left wondering why.
My heart aches for the many people struggling right now to find the light and hope.
And so the tears continue.
© Wildebeest 2012
I was all excited when I saw this photo I took today:
Hey, I said to Zebu, it's Three Turtle Doves.
To which he replied, "I think the song goes 'Three French Hens, Two Turtle Doves.'"
So I looked up The Twelve Days of Christmas and, sure enough, it's Two Turtle Doves.
Well.
I'd rather not break up the trio so if you'd be so kind, either squint your eyes
and pretend these are Three French Hens OR miscount the birds
and end up with only Two Mourning Turtle Doves.
Thank you.
It starts out like this:
image from morguefile.com
And somewhere along the way, turns into this:
image from morguefile.com
We just survived an incredibly difficult weekend
and are all more tired than usual but (mostly) intact.
Here's to a new week and a fresh start.
I'm trying to keep this in mind:
Children begin by loving their parents;
as they grow older they judge them;
sometimes they forgive them.
~Oscar Wilde
Zebu suggested drawing a bikini on this little pear butt:
Yesterday Zippy, Zebu and I went to Casa Bonita to see Wildebeest perform.
I'd never been there, but it's common knowledge people go for the entertainment
rather than the food.
Here I am, Vegetarian in a Strange Land, with the dinner everyone above
the age of two must buy:
I moved the mound of food around the plate, but it was pretty obvious I ate nothing.
We were seated right next to the stage that is flanked by a waterfall and sits above the pool
for the dive shows. This was our view across the restaurant: 
Here's Wildebeest in a skit with Chiquita the Gorilla:
And here he is in another skit with Black Bertha (Black Bart's sister):
Here are Zippy and Zebu exploring the lower level dining area:
This table got my vote for Most Claustrophobic Seating:
It was such fun watching Wildebeest get up on stage and do his thing.
We're thrilled he landed a job that makes him happy and brings smiles to lots of people.
Even when he tries to pretend otherwise.
This morning as Zebu and I drove to his friend's house to pick him up for school,
we passed a house with trash cans set out at the curb.
And next to those trash cans, was Something Unexpected.
We picked up Zebu's friend and then drove back past the trash cans.
I stopped and after a hurried consultation, Zebu jumped out and grabbed The Caped Crusader.
© Tracy Abell 2011
I offered Zebu and his friend dibs, but neither was willing to carry him through the school halls.
Not to mention their uncertainty about him fitting in their lockers.
So Batman came home with me and Lebowski hissed when he got his first look,
but The Dude's over it now.
I'm thinking today is going to be a very special day.
1) Wildebeest thanked me this week for not letting him watch much television
when he was little because he believes that made him a good reader.
2) While I drove Zebu and his friend to school Tuesday morning, Zebu laughed
at one of my jokes! In front of his friend!
3) Wildebeest ate an entire helping of Zippy's curry the other night and said,
"This is really good."
4) Last month Zebu complimented me on my texting speed.
5) Grasshoppers have some seriously trippy gription going on:
© Tracy Abell 2011
Wishing everyone a wonder-filled weekend!
image from morguefile.com
1) I haven't written my 1000-words/day for the last two days, in part because
I can't decide whether to forge ahead OR go back and iron out some major plot
stuff I've since figured out.
2) I've been working on a new WordPress site but have hit a major wall in terms
of what my limited computer skills can achieve, and am not sure how to proceed:
hire a web designer/installer to finish up the job OR muddle through as best I can
OR pretend none of it is happening and let it all wither away in cyberspace.
3) I'm not sure why this Friday Five is the Befuddled Edition when numbers one and two
seem less Befuddled than Indecisive.
4) Wait! I've got befuddlement for you: On the first day of school, one of Zebu's teachers
asked students to share a little about themselves, and when no one else volunteered to
go first Zebu did, and proceeded to offer a lengthy explanation of the underwater basketweaving
club he founded at the school. Because the teacher asked questions along the way, Zebu
continued to spin his tale, thinking she was appreciating his silliness. Turns out she went home
and told her husband all about the amazing student who took the initiative to create
an underwater basketweaving club at school, to which her husband said "It's a joke." She told
me about it last night at Back to School Night. I kid you not.
5) About this time every year I start wondering why I've agreed to be the facilities coordinator
for the local fall SCBWI conference. Okay, that's probably more Grouchy than Befuddled.
Wishing everyone clear, concise thoughts and actions today and throughout the weekend!
Last week we went to Westcliffe where my mother has a small cabin.
A few people sleep outside on the deck but most everyone sleeps in tents.
Zippy and I’ve pitched our tent in the same place for years,
a slightly sloped, rocky spot beneath some pine trees.
I don’t get very good sleep while there and after a few nights of that, I’m exhausted.
So, this year we (um, I) decided we should have tent platforms.
I’m not one to embrace what’s hot-hot-hot,
but do admit to loving Adele’s music.
And if I’m to believe what I’ve read in various places
I’m the typical fan.
Which is to say, I’m female.
Probably older than the average female fan but, still. Female.
Conventional wisdom says Adele’s fan-base is nearly 100% women.
This afternoon I chauffeured three fifteen-year-old boys
who were playing various rap songs from their iPods on the car stereo.
HAPPY 15TH BIRTHDAY, ZEBU!
Photos by Wildebeest
2) but by that evening all euphoria was gone due to a Wildebeest implosion,
3) and we were forced to sort through the rubble.
Bob Dylan turned 70 years old today and in honor of his birthday, I’m sharing 70 Dylan-related memories:
1) I joined the Columbia Record Club when I was a kid and bought lots of early Dylan records for not much money (because he was a Columbia artist), eventually defaulted on my membership and then had a collection agency after me until they figured out I was a minor and they couldn’t touch me.
2) I kept a harmonica in my car to practice while stuck in L.A. rush hour traffic but never advanced beyond basic discordance.
3) When I was a kid, I took over the care of my younger brother’s gerbils and renamed them Frankie Lee and Judas Priest.
4) After having trash and beer thrown at me for singing and dancing during a Dylan concert in Orange County, CA (otherwise known as Behind the Orange Curtain), I vowed never to attend another concert in the OC, a promise I kept.
5) I once dreamed of ex-wife Sara Dylan and woke up really indignant about Bob treating her so poorly.
6) I used to work for a man who shared a rabbi with Bob Dylan, and contemplated staking out the temple for a sneak peek.
7) I had a class at CSU-Northridge with a young man who was friends with one of Dylan’s sons (Jakob?) and who used to hang out with the son and listen to Blonde on Blonde, an album my classmate described as “Okay.”
8) When I was a high school freshman, I gave a speech on Bob Dylan; the teacher was thrilled but the other kids could not have cared less.
9) The first time I ever saw Dylan in concert my seat was behind the stage but Dylan turned and played to us so it was a great experience.
10) My parents allowed me to miss a day of school to get those tickets.
11) Maybe because I’m not a fan of organized religion, I’ve never been offended by Dylan’s swings between Judaism and Christianity and back again.
12) I’ve logged a lot of miles on my treadmill running to Highway 61 Revisited (although “Ballad of a Thin Man” kinda takes the pep out of my step).
13) I listened to Street Legal the other night for old time’s sake but had to quit after a few songs because it made me miss best friend S (who loved the album) too much; I especially wished he was still alive so I could point out the album is highly overwrought.
14) At the last minute, I bought a single ticket to see Dylan at the L.A. Forum and got a pretty decent seat but after he played a couple songs, he said he wouldn’t continue until the seats in front were filled so I rushed the stage and spent the rest of the night a few feet from the stage.
15) I also went alone to see Dylan at the Filmore in Denver and made friends with some people who, for years afterward, invited me to their birthday parties.
16) I named my cat Isis.
17) I bought my copy of Desire at the JC Penney in Portage, Wisconsin, and took it back because the record skipped.
18) Literary agent Edward Necarsulmer IV is a huge Dylan fan and I used to think that meant we were destined to be agent and client, but I’ve since deduced that is not true.
19) Wildebeest loves nothing more than to disparage Bob and his rhyming ways.
20) When I was in high school, Doonesbury included a series of strips featuring Dylan and I taped those strips inside my locker door but was so eager to vacate the premises on the last day of school, I left them behind.
21) Zippy used to quietly pooh-pooh Dylan’s talent but now recognizes his channeling-from-beyond genius.
22) Let’s face it: Joan Baez has aged much more gracefully than Dylan.
23) I was sad on my birthday, November 25, 1976, because I knew Dylan was playing at The Band’s final concert at the Winterland, San Francisco, while I was in Pardeeville, Wisconsin, watching a blizzard out the window.
24) I later went to a matinee showing of Scorsese’s documentary of that concert (The Last Waltz) and smoked cigarettes in the nearly empty theater. I know!
25) Sometimes waiting for Dylan tickets was more fun than the actual concert (see #4), even when I burned my ankle on a motorcycle muffler getting a ride across the immense parking lot to the port-a-potty.
26) There are few more dull or predictable discussions than those focused on the quality of Dylan’s voice.
27) I think the Rolling Stone panel missed the boat by not putting more Planet Waves songs in its top 70 list.
28) I used to be in a critique group with Dylan’s lighting guy who went into instant panic, covering his ears and yelling, “I don’t want to know!” when I mentioned a friend with a bootleg tape.
29) I once spent about three hours trying to get through on a call-in show to ask Dylan who’s saying “Yes!” in these “Isis” lyrics:
“You gonna stay?”
“If you want me to.”
“Yes!”
(See, it’s not clear if it’s “If you want me to, yes!” or “Yes!” as in “I want you to stay.”)
30) It’s safe to say that over the years I’ve driven some people away with my Dylan fascination.
31) A former boyfriend didn’t believe I knew all the words to “Isis” but after I performed it for him, complete with gestures, he had a (short-lived) light of respect in his eyes.
32) Zebu had the chance to see Dylan at Red Rocks a few years back but didn’t have much fun because (1) there was a thick cloud of pot smoke in the crowd and (2) he couldn’t recognize any of the songs.
33) The first novel I wrote has an incredibly original storyline about a teenage girl who loves Dylan but is teased by friends and classmates for that love.
34) My critique-lighting-guy friend invited me to sit at the light board during a Dylan concert but I declined because it was soon after September 11 and I couldn’t face being in a crowded venue right then.
35) In 1982, my sister and I went to PEACE SUNDAY in the Rose Bowl to hear Dylan and Baez (among many) but the concert was sold out so we stood next to chain-link fence while guy inside licked his hand-stamp and pressed it on my hand so I could then lick and pass along stamp to my sister.
36) I’m one of two people I know who saw the looong and oh-so-confusing Renaldo and Clara (and the other person is the guy who went with me).
37) Zippy and I watched the Dylan flick, Hearts of Fire, which is one of the worst movies made. Ever.
38) However, trust me when I say Dylan’s pantry scene from the movie Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid in which “Alias” reads aloud the labels on canned vegetables is hysterical.
39) Early on in our relationship, Zippy said the soundtrack to Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid was his favorite Dylan album because it was mostly instrumentals (see #21).
40) I strongly disagree with Keith Richards’ statement about Dylan’s “Girl from the North Country” being better suited to a solo than the duet with Johnny Cash.
41) When I try to imitate Dylan I always end up sounding like Joan Baez imitating Dylan on her version of “Simple Twist of Fate” which means it’s really me doing Baez doing Dylan.
42) A long time ago I told a friend if Dylan ever did a commercial, I’d take all my Dylan albums into the street and destroy them but here I am post-Victoria’s Secret and Bob-knows-what-else, and my albums are intact.
43) I went to the record store the day Empire Burlesque was released to buy it and another customer commented on how refreshing it was to see someone so loyal to an artist, but in retrospect, I have to question that loyalty because the album has some definite clunkers.
44) I once called information to get Bob’s home phone number.
45) I never feel like I’m in the mood to listen to “The Time’s They Are A-Changin,’” but then I hear it and am blown away all over again.
46) Sometime in the last decade, Dylan was on the Grammy’s singing a song that everyone later ridiculed as being unintelligible but within a couple mumbles I identified it as “Masters of War.”
47) When I was a teen, Dylan was scheduled to be on Soundstage and I talked to my parents ahead of time about watching it when it came on late that night, but in a fit of absolute bullshit parenting, they didn’t let me.
48) My father-in-law named his dog “Dillon” after the Gunsmoke character but in my mind’s eye whenever I said his name, it was “Dylan.”
49) I was always of the opinion that music class ruined “Blowin’ in the Wind” for a lot of young people much the same way The Scarlet Letter was ruined by high school English classes until a friend told me “Blowin’ in the Wind” holds a special place in his heart due to learning all the words in Sunday School.
50) Way back when in Wisconsin, I listened to Dylan’s early song, “Highway 51” but, being the spatially-challenged person I am, didn’t make the connection with the Hwy 51 running past my hometown.
51) If not for Bob Dylan, I’m not sure I’d know Woody Guthrie’s work (or Arlo’s!), or Phil Ochs or Dave van Ronk.
52) I’m not usually a fan of “greatest hits” compilations but if not for Dylan’sGreatest Hits Vol 2, I wouldn’t know one of my all-time favorite Dylan songs “When I Paint My Masterpiece.”
53) It was hard times when I lived in a tiny North Hollywood apartment but I remember smiling in the dark as I listened to Bob’s laugh when he messed up the opening to “Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream.”
54) Wildebeest just stuck his head in the room to see what I’m working on and when I told him he said, “70? That’s a lot of memories. You really love Bob Dylan, I think Bob Dylan’s a goober.”
55) A friend and I went to the Dylan/Grateful Dead concert at Anaheim Stadium and I swear Jerry’s guitar solo on “All Along the Watchtower” was so incredible it flustered Bob into singing the same chorus twice (but I seem to be the only one who noticed).
56) I have another friend who won’t ever let me forget that on the day of a general admission Dylan concert at the Filmore in Denver, I “forced her out of the car on Colfax” because of road work and detours so she could get in line while I looked for a place to park, and then we ended up arriving at the line at the same time.
57) We were about halfway back on the floor during that show with the misfortune of standing behind a basketball team, but then “Cold Irons Bound” started and I danced and didn’t care about limited visibility.
58) When Wildebeest was a baby he’d calm when listening to Blood on the Tracks except for “Idiot Wind;” he really disliked that song.
59) Wildebeest and Zebu just told me something I can neither confirm nor deny: when they were little and would screw around at the dinner table, I’d get pissed off and send them downstairs while I cleaned up the kitchen, “Tombstone Blues” blasting (“I’m in the kitchen with the tombstone blues”).
60) All I can say in my defense is “It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry.”
61) Actress Jenna Elfman reportedly lost her virginity while listening to “Lay Lady Lay” but I can’t listen to Dylan while having sex because, for me, there’s no tuning him out; I can’t write while he’s playing, either.
62) Hard Rain is a phenomenal live album, and don’t even try talking to me about the distortion and poor sound quality.
63) If it weren’t for the Rolling Thunder Revue, I wouldn’t know about T-Bone Burnett and Mick Ronson and Ronee Blakley and Scarlet Rivera.
64) Come to think of it, I started reading Crawdaddy magazine in hopes of finding a mention of Dylan, and was introduced to all sorts of musicians along the way.
65) From the very start my attraction to Dylan had as much to do with his use of language as the music and while I never mastered the guitar or harmonica or singing, or anything even remotely musical, I consider him a huge influence.
66) I still haven’t landed in Publisher’s Marketplace but it’s cool Bob’s gotten deals for turning songs into picture books; however, it’ll be hard to take if he sells a middle-grade before me.
67) I can’t remember ever putting on a Bob Dylan record and deciding it wasn’t what I wanted to hear; no matter the mood, it’s always a good time for a little Dylan.
68) And with his catalog, a little Dylan can easily turn into a marathon listening session.
69) So many people were outraged when he went electric and, in their minds, turned his back on “the movement,” but Dylan’s Dylan no matter whether he’s singing about a miner or a clueless reporter or the exquisite pain of a breaking heart.
70) When I listen to Joan Baez sing about Dylan in “Diamonds and Rust,” I want to weep for her lost love but then “Winds of the Old Days” plays and I’m in awe of her graciousness:
“singer or savior, it was his to choose
which of us knows what was his to lose”
Tracy Abell 