It was late July in 1963 and my 21st birthday. I lived in an apartment on the second floor with my husband and our three little daughters , ages four, three and one. I can still see my dad and mom coming up the steep old wooden stairs. He was carrying a “high fi,” - that’s what they were called in those days - and she was carrying Bob Dylan. I had never heard of Dylan, and to this day I don’t know how my mom heard of him. She wasn’t into music at all. But she got it right. It was the first record album I ever owned, and the best gift my mother ever gave me, second only to my life.
Bob’s just a little bit older than me and I feel like I grew up with him. His music was always playing in our house.

In 1968 I bought an old piano for fifty dollars from a lady down the street who was tired of dusting it. It was made by Ludwig & Company, New York. The case was hand carved in Italy. It took five guys to get it into the house. The first song I learned to play was “Just Like A Woman”, (Yes, I did) and I played it over and over (Yes , I did) and I’m still playing it (Yes I am). I’m not the world’s best piano player, but I get by, and have managed to expand my repertoire a bit over the years to include, Subterranean Homesick Blues ; Maggie’s Farm; It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue; Stuck Inside of Mobile; In The Summertime; Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands; To Ramona; I Want You. These are my staples, the tunes I play most often and best. I’m always adding and teaching myself to play more.

My kids have so many great memories of their childhood with Dylan’s music running through it like a soundtrack. When they were in grammar school they loved it when I let them play hooky and stay at home with me to play Dylan. One played the violin (by ear), and the other two played tambourines very enthusiastically. And of course, we all sang, them beautifully, me not so well. And then there was the time, when they were teenagers and had a party while I was out of town, that my entire Dylan album collection was stolen. I was grieving badly for a week or two, and word got out how pissed I was. The thief, God bless his soul, returned the loot, left it on the front porch in the middle of the night.