Bob Dylan turns 68 years old today, and the birthday of “the jester,” as “American Pie” singer Don McLean called him, calls for something special on the old blog: A Sunday edition of the Thursday Top 7.
Here they are, my top 7 Bob Dylan songs:
Despite near incessant begging, I was never allowed to have a dog growing up.
My parents’ argument, which was not completely without merit, was that we didn’t have a fantastic setup for a dog; we lived near a fairly busy street and didn’t have a fenced yard.
Of course, it’s not like any hurdles we might have faced would’ve been impossible to overcome if the household’s decisionmakers had been willing, but I finally, painfully concluded they were not.
When I told one of my handball friends I’d be riding my motorcycle to Death Valley this week, he smiled and offered this in response:
“Cool. I used to watch ‘Death Valley Days’ when I was a kid. You know, Twenty Mule Team Borax.”
“Yep,” I replied, being a connoisseur of the television Western.
A few days later, as we were lying in bed, my wife abruptly asked me, “Did the Barkleys’ place have an actual name, or was it just the Barkley ranch?”
