My grandparents' record cabinet had a small stack of their albums because the three kids, my mother, aunt, and/or my uncle had bought them and left them at home when they went to college. I suspect it was my uncle. It wasn't my mother and she didn't go to college, actually. Anyway, they were still in the record cabinet when I moved back to my grandparents' house to go to HS the summer before 9th grade. I say back to the house because my mother and father divorced when she was pregnant and 19 and it was my first home.
My mother was a Dylan fan and she kept her Dylan albums for the rest of her life.
I listened to a few of the albums. They weren't for me. I can't put my finger on why. I just didn't enjoy them.
I met a group of students in middle school who were huge fans when my other uncle who was a history teacher took me with a group of his students to London.
I made friends with a group of students from another school and we spent out time together stating on the flight from NY.
It ended when we got home with him having a talk with me asking me in a kind plaintive way why I chose to not to hang out with his kids and giving me an inevitable talk because I had been caught smoking cigarettes. He didn't find out we were leaving the London hotel at night and going to clubs.
His kids had a list of places they wanted to go and things they wanted to related to the band. It was everything them. I couldn't relate.