I was a sophomore in high school when I was first introduced to Bob Dylan. I had always listened to music made before my time, so much so, that my friends would often tell me, “You were born in the wrong decade.”
Indeed, that’s how I felt when I listened to the music of the 60’s. Then rationality struck one day, in-between another hypnotic guitar riff from Jerry Garcia –I could have been drafted, Civil Rights were barely established, and Richard Nixon would soon become president.
And yet, here I am, listening to Bob Dylan wax poetic about a failed relationship in To Ramona, and I’m thinking about Keon Broxton.