THE CABALA OF BOB

President Obama pinned the Presidential Medal of Freedom around Bob Dylan's neck as the singer stood in the White House inscrutable in black sunglasses.

I first met Bob in the Navy; the sailors I served with insisted in listening to what they called: shit-kicking music, a nasal twangy sound from the deep south and then all of a sudden a new sound hit the radio – I was stunned, the announcer introduced the new artist, Bob Dylan.

You can’t even understand anything that guy says, said the sailors; I don’t know what he’s saying, I agreed, but he’s saying it. I am a few years younger than Bob, he has been my big brother throughout my life – like God, Bob was always there, singing to my soul, when I needed him.

Forever stoic, Bob is an enigma to his fans, a man who guards his feelings while portraying in his words and melodies the soul of the world. Bob does not just sing about freedom, Bob is free – what more appropriate an honor to give this extraordinary figure than the Medal of Freedom.

I have travelled many a mile on the road singing Bob to the indelible truth; I married when he married and divorced when he divorced – I have been up and down and all around, but there’s one thing I would never want to do, is to say I’ve been hitting that hard traveling, too.