It was one of those cold summer nights in SW Montana, not at all uncommon. When one is not surprised by snow in July, then an August night in the low ’40’s, a medium wind pushing a few errant snowflakes past the little trailer window seemed reasonable, even typical.
There in the little trailer park at the edge of a pond, mountains and wooded hills close by, the boy sat in one of the WW II trailers, in front of a tiny wood stove. He had put in a 12-hour shift at the local gas station, cleaned up and had dinner with his parents, then wandered down to the old trailer court, where, these days, he spent most of his evenings.
He was, by our standards, a hopeless romantic.. or perhaps worse, a romantic dreamer. Though only 22, he had already been a traveler, to many of the western states, to Peru and Chile, to Hollywood, yet seemed totally unaffected by it all. He was, after all, still a green, naive kid whose romantic ideas of how daily life should be was totally at odds with reality. He loved music, poetry and girls, and could, and easily did, fall in love with at least half a dozen young ladies during that short Montana summer.
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The trailer park, in 1963
But on this chilly evening, he was alone in the little trailer, stoking up the fire, getting the room warm for his current girlfriend, who was still acting in the play in the playhouse up the hill. There were a few cold beers left in the cooler in the corner, and he got one and took a few sips. Nothing missing here, the sound of the wind outside the trailer, the wood crackling in the stove, maybe a little music.
He looked through the short stack of records on the shelf, and found a Bob Dylan. Being a jazz lovver, most folk music no longer appealed to him. Oh, what the hell, he thought, let’s at least put it on and see how bad it is. He opened the lid of the portable record player and plopped the record on, dropping the needle at the beginning. A solo guitar began finger picking, and he sat down next to the stove, to warm himself, sip the beer and listen.
A plaintive, barely in-tune voice began, and the boy winced. He liked singers to at least be in tune. But he kept listening, and slowly, as the lyrics unfolded, a new, different vibe began floating through the trailer. His mind began drifting back in time, to the old gold mining days of the area, when 10,000 men braved the bitter winters for the chance to get rich, right here in these gold hills. As he drifted back, the trailer, the stove, the beer and the music seemed to come with him, and then transport him, to the early 1860’s. He sat, transfixed, by what was happening to him.
“If you’re travelin’ in the north country fair
Where the winds hits heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine “
Born Robert Zimmerman, Dylan has sold more than 125 million records worldwide and is considered one of the greatest songwriters of all time. Dylan’s songwriting is celebrated across American popular music genres, and he’s been called the “Shakespeare” of his generation. I consider him one of the classic “old souls” who walk among us today, whether we realize it or not.
He said, “I consider myself a poet first and a musician second. I live like a poet and I’ll die like a poet.”
And here are some of his quotes –
“Take care of all your memories, for you cannot relive them.”
“People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent.”
“All I can do is be me, whoever that is.”
“I accept chaos, I’m not sure whether it accepts me.”
“There is nothing so stable as change.”
“I think of a hero as someone who understands the degree of responsibility that comes with his freedom.”
“A poem is a naked person… Some people say that I am a poet.”
“Money doesn’t talk, it swears.”
“Don’t criticize what you can’t understand.”
Bob Dylan famously called Jimmy Webb’s song Wichita Lineman “the greatest song ever written.”
“I am a lineman for the country, and I drive the main road
Searchin’ in the sun for another overload
I hear you singing in the wire, I can hear you through the whine
And the Wichita Lineman is still on the line.
I know I need a small vacation, but it don’t look like rain
And if it snows, that stretch down South won’t ever stand the strain
And I need you more than want you, and I want you for all time
And the Wichita Lineman is still on the line.”
There’s another song that might be the greatest song ever written. And it was written by you, Bob Dylan. “The Times They Are A-changin’.
The deeper the boy gave in to the lyrics, the deeper and faster he slipped, back into the 1860’s, back into the time of the harsh, naked, brutal reality of a gold miner’s life. And he wondered at the contrast of that life to his vision of the North Country Girl, so soft, so beautiful, her hair hanging down. And even as the wind picked up outside, shaking the little trailer ever so slightly, he was wonderfully trapped in a rundown cabin on the gold creek, shivering next to the fire, his beard all dirty and matted, thinking about the girl, wondering if she remembered him at all. It was a magic he had not known about music, until now. He would experience many, many more moments like this in his life, but none more memorable.
And when his actress finally opened the trailer door and stepped through, he barely noticed.
Girl From The North Country –
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JncbFS5ek74
“If you’re travelin’ in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine
If you go when the snowflakes storm
When the rivers freeze and summer ends
Please see if she’s wearing a coat so warm
To keep her from the howlin’ winds
Please see for me if her hair hangs long
If it rolls and flows all down her breast
Please see for me if her hair hangs long
That’s the way I remember her best
I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all
Many times I’ve often prayed
In the darkness of my night
In the brightness of my day
So if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was a true love of mine”
Steve Hulse