Bob Dylan—born Robert Zimmerman out in Duluth, Minnesota, 1941—grew up freezing most winters in Hibbing, which is pretty much the North Pole as far as the US goes. His dad worked for Standard Oil, but Dylan had other plans: piano, guitar, high school garage bands doing their best to tear up the local scene. Fast-forward to college at the University of Minnesota in ‘59 and he’s ditching his old name, popping up in Minneapolis clubs as Bob Dylan. Didn’t take long for him to pack up for New York, haunting Greenwich Village, playing folk clubs, basically living at Woody Guthrie’s hospital bedside. Columbia Records scooped him up in ‘61, and a year later, his debut album came out—not much original stuff, but that changed quick. "The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan" dropped, loaded with songs that’d end up defining the ‘60s—yeah, "Blowin’ in the Wind" was just the beginning. Couple more folk albums, hanging with Joan Baez, and then outta nowhere—electric guitars everywhere. "Bringing It All Back Home" and The Byrds with "Mr. Tambourine Man" basically invented folk-rock overnight. He wrecked his motorcycle in ‘66, nearly died, vanished for a while, came back doing country. Critics grumbled, didn’t matter. Wrote music for "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid," toured with The Band, finally hit #1 with "Planet Waves" then "Blood on the Tracks." Got religious outta nowhere, dropped "Slow Train Coming," picked up a Grammy. Health scares, divorces, weird movies, and somehow he’s still out there, racking up awards and playing gigs for the Pope. Dylan’s story? Never boring.
Dylan’s had his fair share of weirdos, but A.J. Weberman takes the cake. This guy called himself a “Dylanologist” like it was a real job or something. He started the so-called Dylan Liberation Front, ranting that Dylan had sold out and turned his back on politics (which is hilarious, ‘cause Dylan was never really into all that activism). Weberman wasn’t just loud online—he actually camped out in front of Dylan’s house, dug through his trash like some deranged raccoon, and even started rumors that Dylan was hooked on heroin. Things got extra creepy when Weberman shoved Dylan’s wife, Sara, and broke into their place. At that point, Dylan just snapped. He straight up fought Weberman, who was apparently a lot bigger than him, and somehow Dylan won. So yeah, stalker stories don’t get much wilder than that.
referencennA hero isn’t just some dude in a cape saving kittens from trees or whatever. It’s more about someone who actually gets it — like, they know freedom isn’t just doing whatever you want. There’s weight to it, you know? Real heroes understand that their choices affect other people, and they don’t just shrug that off. They take on the tough stuff, even when it’s inconvenient, because they feel like they owe it to everyone else. That’s what sets them apart from the crowd. It’s not just about big gestures or dramatic moments; most of the time, it’s the small, quiet decisions that really matter — the ones nobody even notices. But those are the choices that define a hero. They’re the ones who get that freedom and responsibility are tangled up together, and they don’t run from that. In the end, it’s all about stepping up, even when no one’s watching.
May 24, 1941
5′ 6½″ (1.69 m)
Konidela Ram Charan
Duluth, Minnesota, USA
Yes, Anna Dylan
Abram H Zimmerman and Surekha
84 years old