Man, if he wasn’t my height! Boyish straight, straight eyes.
Academic details have no place here.
|The new pavilion in Kingston.|
sorry to say, the sound is distorted under the roof
|Where I contemplated life on Thursday evening|
|The other Bob|
ONE MORE TIME AROUND
A meeting was planned for the night before but it didn’t work out.
Delores Dixon and I traveled up the Hudson from Riverdale and NYC respectively. There we were- two Bronx peeps, both heading all the way up to Kingston, New York for the Bob Show. It’s a really big show. Bob Dylan approved his Biz office to help arrange a chance meeting.
Delores Dixon of the New World Singers is sweet as pie. She and her group were the first ever to record the song Blowin' in the Wind. We hung out all day, talked up a storm and enjoyed Dylan's swinging and swaying concert. We took the shuttle bus together. Twice.
Alas, our hand slap and embrace with the Artist failed to materialize.
|"Bob? We're outta here"|
We parted after a full day of travel and she said ‘you’ll meet him tomorrow.’ I doubted her but was still hopeful. A simple gesture of ‘’hi’’ from Bob to Delores and me wasn’t a guarantee. The invite to see him was extended and exciting enough. It was going to happen ONLY if the stars aligned. The show was a gift to us. Afterwards, Bob has to roll on. We understood. We drove home after the show, Dee and I.
|Larry RATSO Sloman|
I saw Ratso there with his wife. We sat in the glow of Saturday night for several minutes discussing Cus D’amato, Mike Tyson and other big boy talk.
He was ‘on the list’ to meet and greet also. Larry informed me that it’s always 'hit or miss.' No harm, no foul, no worries, enjoy the show.
On day two, I had a little more of an idea of where to stand and watch this time. My spot happened to be equally between the beer, the tour bus and the Porta potties. (The sound happened to be better outside the Brickyard rattle Haus. I had a clear look at the whole band. I saw Dylan jump and leave his feet at the piano to bring the end to Highway 61)
Dylan was having fun. He was enjoying himself. And he became quite frisky with the boom mic stand. (Review written longhand is of no interest. Buy a ticket)
I was in contact the previous night with the ‘Tour Bus Gatekeeper.’ I shouted out on Saturday to say hello to let him know that I was flying solo that night. I was prepared to fly so LOW into the bus compound area that no one but us chickens would know. The only people who know are….me, him, the guy who saw’d it and NOW, YOU the reader.
|The backyard at the Hutton Brickyards|
Note the Clearwater getting free audio
It was an ArmHug© (Bob Porco). Like two fishing hooks stuck together for a moment. Not quite elbow. Not quite armpit. Lobster grab. Half second.
I said, ‘Hey Bobby! I accept the protection. (Referring to the security detail protecting all things and people) Lord deliver us into tomorrow together safely.’
What he said in reply is my business. Nothing need be said.
All this in an instant. I witnessed a smile from yesterday’s child. Friendly. Our near-perfect lefty ArmHug © (Bob Porco) tore off in a part-swim-part-doh-see-doe and off he goes. He ducked under low branches like a Bond film mastermind avoiding swinging chopper blades. He dove upwards into the tour bus clutching his goin’ home hat. His past boxing skills were evident. Nice footwork! Is he young?
It’s all in the pivot foot, I think. Ya know what I mean…making a go at it in show biz, as it were. Gotta keep re-inventing yourself and keep moving. One may pivot from Folk to Country to ballads then Rock and Roll then back around. For a moment, he looked back. He paused to acknowledge a Porco. That doesn’t normally happen. Not in a long time.
That’s it. It was the craziest thing! But there he was. Grinnin’ straight eyes. Never breaking stride. Working hard. Padre. Ádios. It was a little like the last M*A*S*H* episode.
That’s the whole story. I was digging’ it. No pictures or video allowed at these events. You’ll have to take Bob’s word. It was just another low-five to LeBron James from the expensive seats after the game. Except, in our case, one of us grabbed north of the elbow. That’s a mythological story to tell some day.
My Tarot card reader says that, because of Mike Porco's good deeds and my efforts, I’ll have a chance to dance close the campfire for a moment before I should jump back into the night and collect fuel for the fire like everybody else. Saturday was an energy-filled, daring day. Everybody missed our encounter. Even Delores who predicted it! I almost missed it. However, I was lucky enough to catch the manager’s eye at just the right time. The cards said ‘convergence’ ‘dream state’ ‘one day’ and it was.
At the Brickyards in Kingston.
Tell yer maw. Tell yer Paw. Now I’ve got go back to work. I’ve got to give my daughter Angelina the low down news!