Provided photo John Deere published this edition of the Farmer’s Pocket Ledger Notebook in 1959. It contains such useful information as the gestation periods for various farm animals but is silent about the up-and-coming Minnesotan troubadour who came to be known as Bob Dylan.

I’ve discovered that some things age better than others. Bourbon and cheese are examples of things that improve with time while bread and my short-term memory have fleeting … um, what are the words? Oh, yeah! Expiration dates.

Many things are deemed useless once they attain a certain age. But if you have the tenacity to hang onto old junk long enough, it can become “classic.” At least that’s what I hope will happen to me someday.

Among the archaic items in my possession is a Farmer’s Pocket Ledger Notebook, printed by John Deere in 1959. Dad probably acquired it at the Eugene Beckman & Sons dealership. My first clue was the “Eugene Beckman & Sons” printed at the bottom of the notebook’s cover.

The new farm equipment advertised in the old notebook is now considered to be classic. Those noisy, two-cylinder, open-platform tractors have long since been replaced by machines that sport luxurious, climate-controlled cabs that have more electronic doodads than the space shuttle.

I was 2 years old when that notebook was issued, so I don’t recall anything about Dad obtaining it. I’m amazed that it escaped the attention of my siblings and me. If we had found it, we likely would have used its pages to hone our Crayola skills.

Another timeless classic that recently caught my attention was Bob Dylan.

Yes, that Bob Dylan. The musical icon who’s so cool that Patti Smith sang “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall” in his stead when he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. 

By 1959, Robert Zimmerman had graduated from Hibbing High School and enrolled at the University of Minnesota. He changed his name to Bob Dylan, dropped out of college, moved to New York, and began to play in clubs. His first album, “Bob Dylan,” came out in 1962.

Dylan has produced dozens of hits over the decades and has had a tremendous impact on the music industry. I can’t say that I’m a Dylan devotee, but several of his tunes are woven into the fabric of my formative years.

For example, the implications of the song “Lay Lady Lay” scandalized my teenaged brain and nearly blew a cerebral circuit. “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” was the perfect dirge for a teenager who felt incredibly put upon by being forced to do chores on our family’s dairy farm.

I bopped to the beat of “Tangled Up in Blue” and, being young at the time, took to heart the song “Forever Young.” A later Dylan tune that I enjoy is “Red River Shore,” an epic song/ poem about misery and loss. I can relate.

I was intrigued when I learned that Dylan would be performing in Sioux Falls. The ticket prices were reasonable, and Dylan is a limited resource. When would I get another chance to experience this musical icon in the flesh? 

My wife and I arrived at the venue much too early, and it seemed like forever before Dylan’s band finally began to play. As the band belted out a jaunty melody, a small, behatted figure shuffled onto the stage. The audience rose to its feet and roared. Dylan is nearly 85; he deserves a standing ovation just for walking onto the stage.

Dylan launched into his set. Or at least I think he did. It was often difficult to understand him when he was in his prime. This has only become more pronounced now that he’s attained his eighth decade.

None of the songs were oldies from my youth. At least I don’t think they were. I was only able to hear scattered syllables now and then. But I wasn’t alone. The audience applauded generously after each song, but some members began to call out, “We can’t hear you, Bob!” and “Turn up the mike!”

Dylan eventually got the message, and cheers resounded when he sang loud enough to be understood. Several audience members stood and applauded when Dylan began to play his harmonica, displaying the skill of a well-seasoned veteran.

Toward the end of the concert, Dylan performed “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright.” But he didn’t sing it; he recited it as sort of a sing-songish poem.

Dylan is an icon, so I’m willing to cut him some slack. Maybe he, like me, is a bit hard of hearing. Perhaps he, like me, spent too many hours operating a noisy, open-platform tractor. Maybe we’re more similar than one might think.

As my wife and I exited the venue, I heard a woman say to her companion, “If I wanted to hear an old man mumble I would’ve stayed home with my husband!”

My wife glanced at me meaningfully. I looked back at her and said, “It ain’t me Babe.”

Jerry’s book, “Dear County Agent Guy” can be found at www.workman.com and in bookstores nationwide.