Posts Tagged ‘The Beatles’

Whatever. Not these days, it seems. My mother tells me I’m too old to be ‘lovesick’. Well, if you want to define ‘lovesick’ by today’s standards, I guess I’m feeling a sense of abandonment, I’m not really ‘in love’, just co-dependent. I’ll never understand why people in this world today don’t believe in love anymore. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, maybe it’s the artist and poet in me, but love used to mean something. Now it’s all clouded, corrupted and over-analyzed by society. Society’s sick need to define everything as dysfunctional, diseased, and imperfect. People used to do tremendous things for love. King Edward VIII of England fell in love with Wallis Simpson, an American divorcee, and was not permitted to marry her unless he abdicated the throne of England and lived in exile. Well, guess what, in 1936, he did just that, abdicated the throne and moved to Paris in exile, just to marry the woman he loved. I wish  someone would love me like that. Not to exclude same-sex relationships, Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas met in 1907. They were together at a time when homosexuality was very taboo, but they remained together for 39 years until Stein’s death in 1946. They’re even buried together in Pere La Chaise Cemetery in Paris, France. I wish someone would love me for that long. I think another great love story that society kind of laughed at was John Lennon and Yoko Ono. Despite the controversy surrounding the Beatles break-up, I think John’s love for Yoko and the distraction of that deep love contributed greatly to the Beatles separation. He gave up the greatest rock and roll band of all time to be with Yoko, for love. I wish someone would make that kind of sacrifice for me. Call me a hopeless romantic…I guess all I can do is keep believing and hoping someday love will find me again…

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The Constant

Posted: September 26, 2012 in Music
Tags: ,

There has been one constant in my life.  An entity that has always been. They have been there through all of my trials and tribulations, my heartaches and disappointments, and my triumphs. They are four regular guys, “working class heroes” if you will. Their names are John, Paul, George, and Ringo. Even their depressing songs bring me great joy like “Eleanor Rigby”, for example. It’s about ‘all the lonely people’, and Eleanor dies alone in the end. I don’t hear all that, I hear those beautiful harmonies and violins. Pure genius. On that horrible night in December, 1980, when John Lennon was murdered, was when I decided to become a writer. I was fourteen years old and the first poem I ever wrote was called, “Blue Meanies”. It was about that horrible night, that horrible no one, and I guess, the ills of the world. I remember that night vividly. I was in my room, my sanctuary from the pains of adolescence, when my brother, who was watching Monday night football when Howard Cossell announced it, came to tell me John Lennon was dead. Immediately I went to the radio and every station, regardless of genre, was playing his music and flashing news reports. What a tragic ending to the life of a brilliant, yet humble man. The next day, I went to school, I was in 8th grade, wearing all black and cradling my small, at the time, collection of Beatles albums. My classmates thought I was weird, but the teachers, the adults, understood. Afterall, it was part of their generation that died that night.

I got into the Beatles quite by accident. I was 10 years old and crazy about the Bay City Rollers, you know, “S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night!”. My mother even made me the plaid outfit with suspenders…I was the Bay City Rollers’ number one fan. I was at my Grandmother’s house and she told me my mother had a Bay City Rollers’ album in the big stereo, you know the one that looks like a piece of furniture with the lid on top, everyone had one in the 70’s. She got it for me and Lo and behold, it’s an original copy of “Meet the Beatles”. I was disappointed in a way that it wasn’t the Bay City Rollers. What did my Grandmom know, English/Scottish, all the same to her, she likes Eddy Arnold anyway. I took it home and listened to it and was captivated. In the 70’s there was a big run on Beatles compilation albums, ie: the red and the blue albums complete with red and blue vinyl. My Granny gave me the money to buy them, and that’s how it all started. After John Lennon was killed, they re-released alot of the Beatles albums and John’s solo work, so I bought that, too. Today, my garage is filled with Beatles music and memorabilia. I think half of my wardrobe consists of Beatles and John Lennon t-shirts.  They have always been there for me, my heroes. No matter what was happening in my sometimes tumultuous life, they were there, bringing me comfort with their words and music. In the words of John Lennon, “We all shine on…”