BOB DYLAN | The Gospel of Bob

By David D. Robbins Jr. | Their Bated Breath

Bob Dylan is the greatest songwriter on the planet. Period.

Call him the voice of a generation. Or the Poet Laureate of Rock n Roll. Just know that he views those superlatives as shackles. It’s the burden of expectation he’d eventually learn was better answered with more music and obtuse off-stage answers. It’s better to think of Dylan as the ultimate shape-shifter. A chameleon. A kind of music escape artist as apt as Harry Houdini. He’s an old-world trickster, donning any guise that helps him create music. Dylan has played the hobo traversing the rails, a beatnik’s vessel for peace, a street-wise Shakespeare, a carnival showman, a bullshitter of the first order, a scorned savior with a thorn in his side, a waiting lover, a clown, a caustic wretch, and an angel warning of a wave large enough to drown the…

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Kate Stone’s Civil War: Our best fancy yellow organdies

Stone offers a slice of springtime social life in East Texas as friends and neighbors come and go.

KS63

From 2012 to 2015, Stillness of Heart will share interesting excerpts from the extraordinary diary of Kate Stone, who chronicled her Louisiana family’s turbulent experiences throughout the Civil War era.

Learn more about Stone’s amazing life in 1861, 1862, 1863, 1864, 1865 and beyond. Click on each year to read more about her experiences. You can read the entire journal online here.

(Photo edited by Bob Rowen)

Stone offers a slice of springtime social life in East Texas as friends and neighbors come and go.

May 25, 1864

Tyler, Texas

We have bidden Julia and Mrs. Payne farewell this evening. “It may be for years and it may be forever,” as they return to Camden the entire cortege, Negroes and all. Maj. Street sent an ambulance for them and they secured a wagon here. Julia is perfectly delighted to go back, but Mrs. Payne is not so pleased. I surely would let that strong, healthy Major come for me. I would not travel 200 miles over rough jolting roads to meet him. But then I am not in love with him and she is. That makes a vast difference, I suppose. I spent the night with her, and we sat up nearly all night having our last confidential chat together.

Thursday Julia and I, dressed in our best fancy yellow organdies, went calling with Mamma. Found nearly everyone out. Julia and I deserted Mamma and perambulated around town looking for flowers, stealing them through the palings and decorating our heads with them. At Mrs. Wells’, we were regaled on huge slices of poundcake and fine music. Jimmy Stone and I rode out to see Mrs. Prentice. She likes Jimmy very much and says he reminds her so of her young son Horace, who died at about his age. The ride was delightful through the woods, sweet with the wild grape fragrance.

Jimmy Stone has gone to the prairie [Lamar County], and Johnny is lost without him. Our usual succession of visitors — boys, officers, doctors, and ladies.