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The State of My Union: “I was so much older then/ I’m younger than that now.”
By
Published: Feb 05, 2019
Category:
Beyond Classification
The President is delivering his State of the Union report.
I’m not watching.
It did occur to me that this would be a good time to present the state of my union. Not headline-making. But considerably more honest than the other guy’s. And mine actually grapples with an idea, maybe even an idea you’ve also been wrestling with.
It’s been a busy month. That’s true for everyone I’m close to. And it’s been busy in a way that doesn’t invite an overall conclusion. It’s just a lot of life, moving fast.
Like this:
Later this week, I’m flying to San Diego to celebrate my mother’s 102nd birthday. And then my brother and I will help her move into an assisted living community. And then I will de-accession almost everything she’s collected in 102 years. Like Marie Kondo, just at warp speed.
I’ve spent much of the last year helping a legendary CEO with his memoir; a few weeks ago, we turned the manuscript in to Simon & Schuster. I’m looking forward to sharing what I learned with you.
Ten thousand more words and I’ll have finished a draft of a novel; soon I hope to invite 25 of you to read it and comment.
The Color of Light, my play about Matisse and the creation of the Chapel at Vence, opens in Westchester on April 4. We’re still casting, but tickets are now on sale.
The home team is doing fine.
And I’ve been thinking a lot about one line in a Dylan song: “Ah, but I was so much older then/ I’m younger than that now.”
That meditation began with my birthday, which was recent. I’ve attained an age that is ridiculous — for Christmas, my daughter gave me a mug that says, “Best Grandpa Ever.” I’m not feeling my age, or acting it, but just the other day, Murray Bruce, my friend and former business partner, died. The good news is that he died in a family circle of love. And died on Tortola, which is at least halfway to heaven. Another close friend is having a battery of tests. Another is getting a monthly infusion of a drug that costs even more than the monthly infusion I get for my esoteric kind of asthma. Attention must be paid….
So why this song? Why this line?
“My Back Pages” is the last song he wrote for his 1964 record, Another Side of Bob Dylan. It represents his first break with the folk singing, peace-loving troubadour who had, overnight, become the voice of his generation. It is not just a rejection of a persona — it is a rejection of certainty.
Relevant lyrics:
Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms quite clear, no doubt, somehow
Ah, but I was so much older then, I’m younger than that now.
Hold that thought: “quite clear, no doubt, somehow.” Imagine Dylan singing it. Imagine the sneer on “no doubt” and “somehow.”
The song is, someone wrote, “one of the most lyrical expressions of political apostasy ever penned. It is a recantation, in every sense of the word.”
Much later, Dylan looked back on the songs on that album:
“There aren’t any finger pointing songs here … Now a lot of people are doing finger pointing songs. You know, pointing to all the things that are wrong. Me, I don’t want to write for people anymore. You know, be a spokesman.”
One thing is clear to me: Bob Dylan, who is often considered a know-it-all and smartass, acknowledges here that he doesn’t know everything — or even much of anything. Right? Wrong? Those are labels. Not truths. The protestors and the Establishment— maybe they’re not so different.
Tony Romo, the former quarterback who’s now a broadcaster, said this when he stepped back from playing football: “I just want to leave you with something I’ve learned in this process. I feel like we all have two battles or two enemies going on. One with the man across from you. The second is with the man inside of you. I think once you control the one inside of you, the one across from you really doesn’t matter.”
Yes, the fool giving the State of the Union is terrifying — he’s quite capable of ordering a nuclear strike on a country that pissed off some fool on Fox News. And the crimes his henchmen have committed… the list is long. But having said that, what’s the next thing to think or say? I can tell you, because I see it every day on Facebook: neighbors talking over a clothesline or a fence. Armchair activism. Venting. Wasting time.
In the last chapter of his life, Matisse created the chapel, which he described as his masterpiece. He died content, loved and loving. At 83, he died young.
I tell my daughter far too often: “The finish line is not the finish line. Don’t slow down. Don’t get distracted. Run through the tape.”
I hate nostalgia, but I vividly recall when I was 19. Nothing could stop me then. And nothing did. (Later, everything stopped me. The ”lost years” seemed endless.)
The State of My Union now is to put my head down and work. To pay close attention to the people in my lifeboat. To look up and be grateful. As ambitions go, nothing spectacular. But for a year ahead… not too shabby.
Yes, the news is very distracting, but I try to take my own advice. And if I need a reminder: Bob Dylan was just 23 when he wrote “My Back Pages.”
BONUS VIDEOS
There are two great versions of this song. One was performed at a 1992 concert honoring Dylan for 30 years of music. Bob Dylan, Roger McGuinn, Tom Petty, Neil Young, Eric Clapton, George Harrison. You can’t avoid noting that Harrison and Petty are now dead, and Clapton has retired. Sometimes time… stops. The music never does.
The other video is pure Dylan. Stick around for the harmonica at the end.
