A week before he was murdered, Dad was learning Bob Dylan’s “Ballad of a Thin Man” on his guitar. First he listened to the song a lot. Then he learned the guitar part. Then he played it while he deliberately talked to me or Mom. Then he listened again. Then he copied the lyrics and read them over and over while he brushed his teeth. Then he sang along with Bob Dylan on his iPod figuring out which words and syllables had chord changes. Then he sang and strummed and finally said, Listen up, Izzy.
One of the lyrics went like this:
“…something is happening here, but you don’t know what it is…”
That is exactly what it’s like for me now. Something is happening, and I don’t know what it is.
And, Dad? Are you nearby, somehow? How else to explain why I’m hearing “Thin Man” in my mind’s ear? And Listen up, Izzy? in your exact tone of voice?
Is there magic going on?
—Isabel Scheherazade (who’s trying to keep it all together by writing it down in this blog)