Timothée Chalamet as Bobby Dylan

Adam Williams (Manager, Uncle John) and I are in Rochester, New York to see Bob Dylan and a girl named Marie. Marie´s parents are both deaf, but her and her siblings can all hear. Rochester is on the border of Lake Ontario, the third largest city in New York state, home of the Kodak camera,  and the singing Chickadee, a distinctive looking bird who communicates by its call,  and relays a specific message in its own language. It can sound the alarm to the flock, relay information, and recognizes an individual or a particular flock.

Rochester is home to one of the largest deaf populations in the country. There are street signs alerting drivers to where deaf children play. The only technical college for the deaf in the country is at Rochester Institute of Technology, and this is where Dylan's show is tonight. Joining the five band members on stage is someone to sign the show for the deaf, a girl with headphones who interprets all of Dylan's lyrics tonight. The deaf people come to experience the vibrations of each song, and are treated to a passionate presentation of Dylan's lyrics live.

The girl who is signing/interpreting Bob's lyrics speaks with deliberate hands, Dylan in her ears. She is like the chickadee, relaying information, communicating in a special language, identifying with each other, distinctive looking, and transcribing lyrical singing, which transforms into her acting out the message. We have the singer, the song and the interpretation tonight. Oh what a special night!

POSITIVELY FOURTH STREET

It´s the day after Christmas, and I´m seeing Jerry Garcia live up close for the first time.

It is the day after Christmas that Jerry Garcia,  musician Merl Saunders, & Creedence Clearwater Revival rhythm guitarist Tom Fogerty, play a small jazz club, the Keystone Korner in San Francisco´s North Beach. The nightclub is full of smoke, from smokers smoking, that it creates a fog, and someone spreads a rumor that Bob Dylan is here tonight. What was different, weird to me, is the audience thought I was Bob Dylan hanging out with them. I can´t compare myself to him. He’s the premier wordsmith, literacy lord, savvy, wise, aware, true to himself song poet. He’s like an older brother to look up to. As prolific as I’ve been, I dwarf in his shadow. He’s truly a great musician. I don’t want to imitate him. Poetically, emotionally, what we do is real. And the more I insisted I wasn’t Dylan, individuals continued to press through to get a look. People kept watching me, crowding me, studying me, pointing, smiling artistically, having expectation, empty to give, and for that moment on that evening, I felt a little of what it is like to be in his shoes. This is a small crowd, and when Jerry Garcia sings Bob Dylan’s "Positively Fourth Street", everyone gathers around me. I was uncomfortable but intrigued. Garcia is flawless. He is like Old Man River singing Smoke Gets In Your Eyes. Late into the morning  I leave the club with Garcia, introducing myself as a playwright, and walk with him, sharing my story of the luminous revelation I had at a Grateful Dead concert, stepping into another world of amazing wonder, the reality of Jesus Christ, and Jerry responds, "That’s entirely possible!" and he invites me to the Grateful Dead’s New Year’s Eve show. "It’s gonna be a scene!" he says with a smile.