Like a Rolling Stone

Fifty years ago, Bob Dylan recorded “Like a Rolling Stone”. The song was an anthem for my generation. Dylans’ angry lyrics celebrated a privileged princess’ fall from grace. He asked ” How does it feel to be on your own , like a complete unknown, no direction home, like a rolling stone?” The sixties were years of protest and anti-establishment rhetoric and Dylan was a spokesman. The “princess” needed to be knocked off her pedestal and pay her dues like the rest of us.

I am 63 and surely I am grown up, right? I miss my youthful certainty and the luxury of black or white thinking. Assigning blame is not so easy now, but my anger is just below the surface. I may not be protesting in the street, but I can still send a raging email to express how right I am and how wrong you are. Why is there no warning with the send button? When my justice meter registers unfairness, my anger pounces . I have this silly notion that once I point out how unfair the world is, it will comply with my wishes. Of course it wasn’t fair that Roger got Lewy Body Dementia. The fat, out of shape guy with a huge beer belly deserved to get dementia. After screaming and raging and sobbing, I was left with….. acceptance. Why not Roger? Why not me?

I still want the good guys to win. I want to raise my fist in the air victorious in the battle between good and evil. John Lennon wrote “Power to the People” and I would like some of that power.Now I know, life guarantees we all experience a fall from grace. We don’t spend much time on a pedestal . We are too busy playing “King of the Mountain”. What would my younger self say about me now? I will let Mr. Dylan tell it like it is, ” Ah, but I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now”.