Like A Rolling Stone

I first started listening to Bob Dylan just out of curiosity. His name was all over the place and I considered myself a music aficionado by that time so I figured I better open my ears to some root music.

I was 29. Just sobering up in an Oxford House.

If you don't know what an Oxford House is, allow me to enlighten you. An Oxford House is sort of like a halfway house, but for addicts and alcoholics, and instead of answering to your parole officer each week you answer to your sponsor.

If you don't know what a sponsor is, go to any support group in your area. By the end of the meeting you'll be poked and prodded by every hard-nosed buzzard in the room. These are the veterans of the bunch, and they want to let you know just how God damned happy they all are.

So, anyway, I'm upstairs in my cozy little loft trying like hell to drown out the clamor of little children running up and down the stairs when I plug in "Highway 61 Revisited".

I put on my headphones and press play.

...The music begins...



I'm lying there in bed, staring up at the ceiling with the sun dancing through my skylight, washing over my face, and for the first time - for real - I hear the song "Like A Rolling Stone" playing out in my mind like a biblical prophecy.

The lyrics "How does it feel to be without a home, like a complete unknown?" resonated with me on a spiritual level. I was born again.











All those cold nights sleeping under bridges and panhandling for loose change. All those broken hearts and shattered dreams. All those smiling faces with missing teeth.

We were not alone.