You're Bob Dylan? NJ police want to see some ID

You're Bob Dylan? NJ police want to see some ID
Email this Story

Aug 14, 8:49 PM (ET)

By WAYNE PARRY

Rock legend Bob Dylan was treated like a complete unknown by police in a New Jersey shore community when a resident called to report someone wandering around the neighborhood.

Dylan was in Long Branch, about a two-hour drive south of New York City, on July 23 as part of a tour with Willie Nelson and John Mellencamp that was to play at a baseball stadium in nearby Lakewood.

A 24-year-old police officer apparently was unaware of who Dylan is and asked him for identification, Long Branch business administrator Howard Woolley said Friday.

"I don't think she was familiar with his entire body of work," Woolley said.

The incident began at 5 p.m. when a resident said a man was wandering around a low-income, predominantly minority neighborhood several blocks from the oceanfront looking at houses.

The police officer drove up to Dylan, who was wearing a blue jacket, and asked him his name. According to Woolley, the following exchange ensued:

"What is your name, sir?" the officer asked.

"Bob Dylan," Dylan said.

"OK, what are you doing here?" the officer asked.

"I'm on tour," the singer replied.

A second officer, also in his 20s, responded to assist the first officer. He, too, apparently was unfamiliar with Dylan, Woolley said.

The officers asked Dylan for identification. The singer of such classics as "Like a Rolling Stone" and "Blowin' in the Wind" said that he didn't have any ID with him, that he was just walking around looking at houses to pass some time before that night's show.

The officers asked Dylan, 68, to accompany them back to the Ocean Place Resort and Spa, where the performers were staying. Once there, tour staff vouched for Dylan.

The officers thanked him for his cooperation.

"He couldn't have been any nicer to them," Woolley added.

How did it feel? A Dylan publicist did not immediately return a telephone call seeking comment Friday.

moring pages 8.15.09

Inspired by Neruda's poem A Cat

shared by Aunt Linda

too much milk in my tea

too much food from last night

too much clutter

too much entropy

too much peace

Tracey plays piano in the next room

dogs pacing to go out and hunt lizards

I am poised to go to my meditation room

and hopefully my studio

not feeling touched by the muse

at all but perhaps just to play and pretend at it

spill and splash some colors

like an idle child

when did that adventuresome imagination grow up
where did it falter

what will come of its sound effect sword clashes

it rock and roll growls

its horseback rides through the woods

its journeys to the himalayas

its loves and hates

its chores and escapes

what of the striving student

of the earnest conversationalist

the curious ardent observer of art

the thirst of new musical sentiments

calloused over

sated?

Perhaps just pausing as a still pool

waits for a leaf of gold to leap to its heart and set a ripple in motion

toward god in a universe of swirling gem dust

Free Will Astrology

Visionary philosopher Buckminster Fuller said that "Pollution is nothing but resources we're not harvesting." If that's true, Cancerian, you've got a lot of resources available to you right now, although they will have to be converted from their smoggy and effluvial state. So for example, if you're a songwriter, the noxious emotions floating around could be raw material for a sparkling tune. If you're a lover, the peculiar vibes you're dealing with could inspire you to prevent a dumb pattern from repeating itself.

just before noon pages 8.8.09

Thanks to the noon day sun

and breeze gently fluttering

and the dogs settling

and pacing

and my mother and father

up north

and friends and family everywhere

and my fiancee still sleeping

sweetly upstairs

and the overly milky cup of tea

I am sipping

it is no great adventure

but it is a peaceful interlude

in the present moment

that does not push or pull

away like a leaf

just resting on the lazy current

of a sun speckled stream

row row row your boat

gently down the stream merrily

merrily merrily

life is but a dream

so taken in a small snapshot

before the gusts of business stir

this tranquil saturday

Afternoon Pages 8.5.09

King Procrastination
next lifetime
my math scores
will still be like pulling teeth

from a jack-o- lantern
yeah and spiting seeds of frustrated contempt
perhaps not so bitterly
as before
and will my art be better?

Will I fall like a ton of bricks over Niagra
for romantic songs
and come hither
eyes

another body
breaking like a barrel
on the rocks

silent cry of bubbles
and no more fidgeting
with belt buckles and bra straps
just water filling in the nostrils
and behind the eyes

dreaming of
a paper cup
outstretched to
a giraffes
tongue
cold fries
and a blue balloon
of helium
on my wrist

the silent movie
laughs
as the child me
does his Chaplin-esque
stagger

to old age and wisdom
the grandparent
the elder
the master
of illusions and traditions
gauze and gleam

I want the circus peanut
to be good for ever
but it can't
taste that way for ever
even if it never decays

because my tongue will

like ginger bread
ever slower
and more convoluted simpleton
eye buttons
to weep sprinkles
and cough marshmallow
just in
time to leave the afternoon
and drive into
evening
like a commuter
who is feeling the pang
at another day slipping through fingers

working for someone else
with his heart
not in his desk
but lost somewhere in the paper clips and attachments

between the drive way and the parking lot

and all the coffee
and bagels
and early morning radio laughter
can't coax the acid in the gut
to abate

as the roar of routine
deafens
like waves
that wash skulls like shells

and abrade our glass edged
hearts into granny glass
thoroughly salted

chewy
tough
tender
calloused

euphamisms
for life
like
slow motion popcorn

that night butters up
and hungrily devours
from all recall

of calendar days
blog entries

a digital
farting breath

to wiff on after we die
or kill off the coders
with wry vernacular

Morning Pages 8.3.09

wash the dogs under the hose

wake up to bugs

and yoga

and breakfast at the table

ready for monday

off on my own two feet

try to keep the crack in the lid

open to the sky

don't procrastinate

just take small bites

and chew

taste

digest

It is all going up on the

screen of life

with 6 senses

dont edit too much

or force thoughts

watch them pass

like clouds

keep blinking

breathing

move toward

being

ok

with

everything

even if your not

looking forward to the garden

and groceries

and lawn and laundry

and a song or a painting

and studying for math test

yuck

it is just another

language

of numbers

a game really

just play

and be amused

keep blinking and breathing

laugh a little

smile

nod of sleep for a moment

and back for more

of less

is more

Sisters Birthday!

Little snopes, H/ O, the curmudgeon

Pinky, Hopeless the hope of the world

penut in her nose, staple in her finger

removed with my pocket knife

afraid I would take her whole finger

two peas in a pod, pink magenta silver markers

bubble paint, stickers

the tike

cat lover, super mom

swing spinner

early riser

knee skateboarder, roller girl

big heart

eating andys mints tiny nibbles

vanilla slender bars

strawberry short cake, She Ra and My little Pony.

Bastet, PETA, Smashing pumpkins and Bananarama

Tina Turner, Debby gibson, Madonna, repeat and half song mix tapes as a kid

leg warmers and sweat pants

peering out behind long bangs

soccer mom, saftey mom,

librarian to Congress

world traveler, Europe, Kazakstan, California

body shop shopper, Gap,

Baretts, Kudos bars and

sharing sleeping her dry bag

in Shenandoah on

family camping

Military road room mates

Checking up on our parents

like secret agents trading info

Being proud of our little sister Maggie

seeing things the same but differently.

Teasing, threatening to shave her cats,

kicking, nuggies, gwampums, laughing hysterically

white wicker furniture, joan of arc poster family painting gallery

goal oriented, athletic, not eating well frozen vegetables

pretending to listen to her older brothers questionable advice

Trip to France together with Mo and Da

not guilting me about being a bad older brother

giving mom her old clothes

connect four, clue, monopoly always being the little dog

Russian scholar, academic, Emma, Emily Bronte

Leo the lioness, Big cat

Bannockburn, Pyle, Whitman, Mount St Mary's

UMD, Georgetown. Talking till past bedtime

the bear chair, having three holidays at moms dads and mo and das'

Laughing about Mom being right about us being best friends when we got older

even though we both swore it would never happen!

Love Ya Sis,

Big Bro