Assuming you were born by then, can you recall where YOU were on Feb. 5, 1963?
I can. I was about as young as the kids in the picture, but instead of freewheelin' through the Village, "Assistant Dean Riffles" (that's how I was known in those days) was out breaking up a snowball fight between Rodney Duke and Robby Cahill, two of the more notable "boys" at Newton Academy for Boys.
Here's how I looked later that year (Spring).
Note the contrast with Dylan, who is full of spritely presence, forward energy, lightness, THE MOMENT, ready to spring like a gazelle into his future.
"Asst. Dean Riffles," by comparison, is all morose self-absorption, and yes, loneliness (where's the girl? There wasn't one).
So you see me above as I was in '63, age 26—without the slightest clue what was in the cards for "Assistant Dean Riffles." In my world, it was still 1958 and would be forever.
Even though. . . I was the same man who, within 3 years, would be. . . THIS MAN!
The mystery of history. Ain't it grand?
