In answer to the many readers who asked after last week’s column, I did not find Bob Dylan’s house 40 years ago.
But I did find him on stage at the Hollywood Bowl last week. I also found a piece of myself in the ’60s living in Greenwich Village when his songs entered my life, a visitor, that never left.
Among the audience members of every age at the performance, I felt a kinship with the 20-something women with long hair parted in the middle, not unlike I looked at their age. I remember listening to Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin’ ” coming from opened windows all over the Village as I walked to work. I didn’t yet realize it was becoming the anthem for the civil rights and antiwar movements. I couldn’t have imagined how those words would resonate all these years later.
Watching him in action at the Bowl, I fell in love with him all over again. This time there was the added affection for his agelessness, the obvious result of continuing to live his passion.
At a time when older age is often thought of as a negative rather than a privilege, the 83-year-old Dylan walked onto the stage with the confident nonchalance of his youth. No introduction. No fanfare. Just Dylan doing Dylan as if his age didn’t exist. When he started performing, it was almost like a poetry reading. His singing voice was secondary to the eloquence of his words. Every word blended into the next with anticipation.
I love the idea of living that way.
Apparently, so does Willie Nelson, who shared the spotlight with Dylan. At 91, with seemingly little effort, he continues to remind his fans that they are always on his mind. And he has so much fun doing it.
“Do you know what I’m thinking?” I asked my brother as we walked to the Park & Ride bus after the concert.
“Please don’t tell me you want to look for Dylan’s house again?”
“The answer my friend is “Blowin’ in the Wind.”
Email patriciabunin@sbclobal.net. Follow her on X @patricabunin.
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