After a while, my own album collection became boring and so I ventured into the cabinet downstairs in the living room to pick something new out of my parents' collection. It seemed that Sunday morning was the perfect time to listen to some new music, as I got myself ready to go to church. One day, I was flipping through their album collection and picked out... a Beatles album. It was The Early Beatles, and I was 9 years old.
I don't remember what day it was (other than a Sunday), but I do remember listening to that album for the first time. I listened to it once, and as the days went by, I listened to it over, and over, and over, until I had learned most of the words. Then I moved on to another Beatles album. The order of albums that I listened to is lost on me now, but I do know that I went through EVERY single Beatles album in my parents' collection (which was pretty extensive). And when I was done with those, I started buying my own.
And so the Beatles era was born. I didn't set out to become a Beatles fan... it's just something that happened. It was almost meant to be.
As the years passed, my affection for the fab four never faded. It went in waves, however; for a while I listened to their songs every day, and other times, weeks or even months would go by without them. But that was ok. I knew it wasn't that I didn't love them anymore. I didn't NEED to listen to the Beatles every day to know that I was a fan. It's like having a true friend... you can go your separate ways for a while, and then when you meet up again, you pick up right where you left off.
The Beatles even invaded my professional life in bits and pieces. When I was 24 and working as a stringer for a daily newspaper, I had the opportunity to interview Cynthia Lennon. I had about 20 minutes with her on the phone in a small private room next to the newsroom (at my request so that I didn't have to interview a real live connection to my ultimate fantasy in front of a bunch of seasoned journalists who might chuckle at my nervousness). I tried to quell the shaking in my voice; she was pleasant and polite. I asked her about how she felt upon hearing of John's death, knowing full well she'd been asked that question a million times before, and yet, I was unable to resist asking it and hearing the answer with my own ears.
I have a photo from when I met her at the Beatles show. My smile couldn't possibly be any wider. In fact, looking at that picture now, I'm pretty sure that I had some extra teeth inserted in my mouth just for the occasion.
I had other moments as well. Over the phone, I interviewed Shea Stadium promoter Sid Bernstein, the Beatles' first manager Allan Williams, and Pete Best, the original drummer... and later met them all in person (at different times). I found them all to be gracious, pleasant and even a little quirky (particularly in the case of Allan Williams, who toted around with him an old pair of jeans he claimed were Paul McCartney's from approximately 1961. I asked to touch them and he refused. It was bizarre and cute at the same time).
Me and Sid Bernstein
With Pete Best
I've seen Paul McCartney numerous times in concert. Once, I went to a men's suit store and, with my then boyfriend, proceeded to stand there and fill out every single entry form stacked up on that table to try and win tickets to see him. (It worked.) Another time I won tickets on the radio and managed to record it on cassette tape. The poor deejay was trying to get my attention and ask me a question, and I was half talking to my mom and otherwise so excited that I wasn't even listening to him. I've gone to Beatles conventions, seen Beatles cover bands like 1964, attended the sound-a-like Beatles experience The Fab Faux, and most recently, Rain on Broadway. In fact, just a couple of weeks ago I won tickets to see Rain because of a photo of myself visiting Strawberry Fields that I posted on their facebook page. My platinum blonde hair (complete with black roots) was glowing like a halo around my head on that sunny but cold day in December 1991.
Now, as I watch my two children get older and become more interested in the music that they hear, I realize I have a golden opportunity to turn them on, so to speak, to the Beatles. In fact, I could have been playing Beatles love songs for them as they laid in the crib and every time we went somewhere in the car. But... I'd rather they develop an interest in the music on their own. And, lo and behold, that has begun to happen. After a few times of us listening to one of the Past Masters CDs in the car, my son began requesting the song Day Tripper. He was interested in the bass guitar. We talked about the different kinds of guitar, identified the sound of the bass guitar and how it's like the backbone of many songs, and, of course, how Paul McCartney is the bass guitar master. At first, it was "that song with the bass guitar," and then, soon enough, it was called by its proper name. And after a couple of times of hearing Revolution, Colette's eyes would light up and say "I wike dat!" when that distinct opening electric guitar would blast through the speakers. It took Alexander a little longer to like it too, but soon enough it became one of his most requested songs. Today, Colette will voice her approval when she hears the Ballad of John and Yoko, ask me to turn it off when Don't Let Me Down comes on, and smile broadly when I ask what song it is when she hears those first gentle notes of the piano that begins, in her words, "Wet it be."
I hope their love of the music continues. I hope they've started their Beatles journeys earlier than I did and that it isn't just a passing fancy, making way for a myriad of other obviously inferior artists that will take the place of the Beatles. I hope that their music connects with them the way it has with me, the kind of connection that may ebb and flow over time but never disappears. But for now, the music to MY ears is when they say to me, "Mom, turn it up!"
