Like A Rolling Stone

We could have named this blog post after any one of hundreds of Bob Dylan's greatest songs - Ballad of a Thin Man, I Shall Be Released, My Back Pages, and on and on and on.

But for a myriad of reasons,we figure Dylan's most iconic anthem - pegged by many rock aficionados as the greatest song of all time - is the one that would aptly help pay tribute to my brother, Jim Cook, who packed away his planning books and called it a day, retiring from the Lowell Plan after working in city planning for more than 40 years.  Besides the Dylan nod, the title also pays homage to one of his other favorite bands, that featuring Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and company.

But Things Have Changed, and Jimmy walked out the doors of the Lowell Plan on Friday afternoon, leaving it in the more than capable hands of incoming director Allison Lamey, along with Germaine Vigeant and Melissa Suprenant and the numerous board members of the Lowell Plan and the Lowell Development and Financial Corporation.

He was all thumbs up as he got ready to step away from his desk for the last time.  (He left rotating pics of his grandchildren as a screen saver on his computer.)

Prior to picking up the reins at the Lowell Plan, Jimmy worked for more than a decade for the city of Lowell, serving as Assistant City Manager under former managers Joe Tully and Jim Campbell.

Through a Simple Twist of Fate, he joined the Lowell Plan in 1990 and has been involved in some manner, in dozens of city projects since, including the construction of the Tsongas Arena, Lelacheur Park, and many more All Along the Watchtower.

Having known Jimmy since pretty much the day I was born - he's SIGNIFICANTLY older than me - I grew up with the non-Lowell Plan version.

For me, I recall the brother who would have his mega-sized headphones on, air guitar playing on his tennis racket, and singing into the glow-in-the-dark traffic light at the end of the pull fob that turned his overhead light on.

The problem with that story, though, was that while Jimmy was singing along to the Dylan or Bruce Springsteen song he could hear at deafening levels in his earphones, the only thing the rest of us could hear was Jimmy's voice -sans music or tone.

Trust me on this.  Jimmy's singing would make Bob Dylan sound like Michael Buble.  It was piercing.

My mother used to stand in the bedroom below Jimmy's, trying to get him to come downstairs for dinner.  She would take the pole end of a broomstick and bang it against the ceiling to capture his attention.  Her ceiling was pockmarked with dozens of indentations from the other-business end of the broomstick, battle scars of Jimmy's frustrated music career.

Eventually, my father would install an electronic buzzer that was used to great glee by all who needed to summon Jimmy away from his music.  It was droning and effective and could be heard past the ear-bleeding levels of Bruce's latest release.

Growing up, Jimmy was notorious for skipping our Sunday meals - not because of the company, but because of the food.  He usually shied away from the turkey or roast beef dinners with all the fixings, choosing instead a steak bomb from Johnny's on Chelmsford Street, a veal cutlet from Santoro's on Gorham Street, or his standby favorite, hot dogs from Elliott's.

And yes the urban legend is true.  He had Elliott's hot dogs delivered as his meal to his 1988 wedding to Candy. 

It was Jimmy who took me to my first concert - David Bowie.  And my second - Queen.  And my third - the Who (the less said about that security breach, the better).  And fifth and sixth - Bruce Springsteen.  And probably dozens more after that.

My parents are both deceased, so I think it's safe now for me to say Jimmy helped sneak me into my first nightclubs while underage.  Not for the drinking, mind you, but for the music.

Music has provided the soundtrack behind the scenes for pretty much Jimmy's entire life.

I expect his time spent listening to concert downloads and outtakes will dramatically increase now that he's going to have more time on his hands.

You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last

But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast

Yonder stands your orphan with his gun

Crying like a fire in the sun

Look out the saints are comin’ through

And it’s all over now, Baby Blue

It's Not Dark Yet, but he's heading home, and looking forward to being able to spend time with his family, especially his six grandchildren.

Wish him well, won't you?

Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind

Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves

The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach

Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free

Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands

With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves

Let me forget about today until tomorrow