"...Back in the late '60s, early '70s, I was hitch-hiking around the United States and Canada, and ended up at one point in Toronto. These were the hippie days, and we went to the heart of the artist district to look for someone to put us up for the night. Two girls befriended us and took us home to their apartment. That night one of the girls went a little nuts.
When she heard that I was a Lennon freak like her, she insisted that my initials meant I was Jesus Christ and that I was sent to her for some reason. I just wanted to get the hell out of there!
As I was leaving, she handed me these small instamatic photographs of the Beatles that she said her friend had personally taken when the Beatles visited Toronto or Montreal, I can't remember which. I told her I couldn't take such an important gift, but she insisted. She said at that time that she did not know if the negatives survived and I would doubt that they do to this day." -- Jim Ciminera, Montreal, Canada
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Time for my friends
This Sunday is the day I want to give a little shout-out to my friends who have been my ardent supporters and pals through the years.
First, I'll start off with Dr. Chuck Stevens. Dr. Chuck is a world-class radio personality (so much more than just a "DJ") who I met through his former WYUU radio program, Breakfast with the Beatles, back in 1992. We've been Beatle buddies ever since. He's provided me with countless DVDs and CDs of rare and unseen Beatles stuff all culled from his crazy-mad music collection. I've provided him in turn with countless baseball tickets.
And then there's Barry Jones, who is as Southern a gentleman you could ever meet. If ever there was a Dixie darling, Barry is it. A native Virginian (Richmond, y'all!) and former Billboard Magazine writer with a taste for baseball and history, Barry champions the fading art of Carolina beach music. He recently shared with me a little musical history with his rich, unique view:
"...Lord have mercy, y'all!! Sitting here ejnoying a few beers and listening to the that down home Southern Soul on www.beachshag.com . Check out this link to the Richmond Shag Club and I am going to tell you a story.
Here's the link:
When you get to the home page, scroll down a tad and check out 2006 Valentine's Dance with Ron Moody and the Centaurs. This is my old band! I got them their first gig in '65 at the PiKA house at Hampden Sydney College. They were doing the Beatles and I changed their show to Beach Music. I told them that no one had ever seen a "Yellow Submarine" but we all knew about "Baby, Let Me Be Your Back Door Man!" by the blind soul brother Clarence Carter out of Muscle Shoals, Alabama! The boys became a great Southern Soul, horn band.
The band had a big regional hit with a cover version of the "If I Didn't Have a Dime ... (And I didn't take the time to play the juke box....)" by Bob Collins and The Fabulous Five out of Greensboro, North Carolina. Columbia Records bought the Master (to stop the band in favor of their acts such as the Buckinghams ("Kind of a Drag"). Not to worry, I took the band to Atlanta and changed their name to The New Dixie Line (an ole Richmond trucking line whose name I liked).
Bill Lowery got them a deal with Mike Curb and MGM Records and created a label, MGM South, and cut a couple of tunes that did nothing. The Southern music scene was moving from the roots of our raisin' to trying to be LA glitter rock 'n roll (The Allman Brothers, et. al.) so the most of the band went home to Richmond and I went to Boston to graduate school. The lead guitar player in the band, Steve Buckingham, stayed in hot 'lanta and I gave him my king size bed when I left for grad school. Steve was a studio cat and produced a classic, Grammy winner ("I like the Night Life, I like to Boogie...") by Alycia Bridges. The last I heard of Steve, who was raised behind my Dad's Community Barber Shop in Lakeside, he was an A&R guy for RCA in Nashville . Ron Moody's new tune is called "Destination Dixie". It's on a beach music/shag compilation CD. Some of the boys in the band later played on Steve Bassett's Beach Music tune, "Sweet Virginia Breeze", which some folks are trying to get as the state song. True.
And so .... years later .... I continue doing that good ole, good time beach music, can I get a witness? -- Barry."
Now, Barry and Dr Chuck have never met, but it's interesting to note that separately they have had careers in the music business in different parts of the country and probably individually know some people in the 'biz who know some of the other's people. Six degrees of separation, indeed.
Love you guys!
First, I'll start off with Dr. Chuck Stevens. Dr. Chuck is a world-class radio personality (so much more than just a "DJ") who I met through his former WYUU radio program, Breakfast with the Beatles, back in 1992. We've been Beatle buddies ever since. He's provided me with countless DVDs and CDs of rare and unseen Beatles stuff all culled from his crazy-mad music collection. I've provided him in turn with countless baseball tickets.
And then there's Barry Jones, who is as Southern a gentleman you could ever meet. If ever there was a Dixie darling, Barry is it. A native Virginian (Richmond, y'all!) and former Billboard Magazine writer with a taste for baseball and history, Barry champions the fading art of Carolina beach music. He recently shared with me a little musical history with his rich, unique view:
"...Lord have mercy, y'all!! Sitting here ejnoying a few beers and listening to the that down home Southern Soul on www.beachshag.com . Check out this link to the Richmond Shag Club and I am going to tell you a story.
Here's the link:
When you get to the home page, scroll down a tad and check out 2006 Valentine's Dance with Ron Moody and the Centaurs. This is my old band! I got them their first gig in '65 at the PiKA house at Hampden Sydney College. They were doing the Beatles and I changed their show to Beach Music. I told them that no one had ever seen a "Yellow Submarine" but we all knew about "Baby, Let Me Be Your Back Door Man!" by the blind soul brother Clarence Carter out of Muscle Shoals, Alabama! The boys became a great Southern Soul, horn band.
The band had a big regional hit with a cover version of the "If I Didn't Have a Dime ... (And I didn't take the time to play the juke box....)" by Bob Collins and The Fabulous Five out of Greensboro, North Carolina. Columbia Records bought the Master (to stop the band in favor of their acts such as the Buckinghams ("Kind of a Drag"). Not to worry, I took the band to Atlanta and changed their name to The New Dixie Line (an ole Richmond trucking line whose name I liked).
Bill Lowery got them a deal with Mike Curb and MGM Records and created a label, MGM South, and cut a couple of tunes that did nothing. The Southern music scene was moving from the roots of our raisin' to trying to be LA glitter rock 'n roll (The Allman Brothers, et. al.) so the most of the band went home to Richmond and I went to Boston to graduate school. The lead guitar player in the band, Steve Buckingham, stayed in hot 'lanta and I gave him my king size bed when I left for grad school. Steve was a studio cat and produced a classic, Grammy winner ("I like the Night Life, I like to Boogie...") by Alycia Bridges. The last I heard of Steve, who was raised behind my Dad's Community Barber Shop in Lakeside, he was an A&R guy for RCA in Nashville . Ron Moody's new tune is called "Destination Dixie". It's on a beach music/shag compilation CD. Some of the boys in the band later played on Steve Bassett's Beach Music tune, "Sweet Virginia Breeze", which some folks are trying to get as the state song. True.
And so .... years later .... I continue doing that good ole, good time beach music, can I get a witness? -- Barry."
Now, Barry and Dr Chuck have never met, but it's interesting to note that separately they have had careers in the music business in different parts of the country and probably individually know some people in the 'biz who know some of the other's people. Six degrees of separation, indeed.
Love you guys!
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Guest essay: Andy Griffin
Thank you to Beatles fan Andy for allowing us to reprint his thoughtful essay on George Harrison.
Somewhere Near Salinas
© 2002 by Andrew Griffin
When I turned on the radio at dawn a few weeks back and heard George Harrison's song, "All Things Must Pass," I figured the one-time Beatle had died. Cancer. I loved the Beatles. The song faded and the sky brightened but my mind lingered on the melody, remembering the Beatles and their music. I remembered Shelby Moss got kicked out of elementary school in '64 because his "long" Beatle haircut provoked an outrage which reminded me that Bobby Slaughter got suspended from high school in '76 because his skinhead look was deemed disruptive. They're probably both bald now; all things must pass. My reverie carried me and my cup of coffee from school to Strawberry Fields, and from Pepperland all the way to India before coming to a halt for a red light at the intersection of highway sixty eight and Blanco Road on the outskirts of Salinas.
You know Salinas. Steinbeck set his novel East of Eden near Salinas. Janis Joplin sang of losing her lover "somewhere near Salinas" in the ballad Me and Bobby McGee that she covered on her last record album. When Salinas isn't a cold and windy back drop for tales of fraternal jealousy, murder, heartbreak and lost love it is the cold and windy capital of California's fresh produce industry. I go there often to buy boxes, labels, staples, seeds or irrigation supplies. I grew up near there too, in the mountains to the south and east, visiting often enough but never quite warming to its frigid charm.
One day maybe 27, 28 years ago my mother, sister and I were leaving Salinas on Highway 68 in our Volkswagen bus. Mom pulled up at the stoplight at the intersection with Blanco Road right in from of Star Market. Another Volkswagen bus, older and rattier than ours, was idling in the next lane. My mother glanced over at the other vehicle and remarked how the driver looked like George Harrison. The resemblance was so striking it was funny. We all had a good laugh. I remember thinking that someday I would be able to measure my wealth by the distance I had traveled from Salinas. Several miles down the highway we made a left turn to go over Los Laureles Grade and the hippie bus in front of us made a right hand turn into the entrance of the Laguna Seca raceway.
Salinas 28 years ago wasn't much different than Salinas today, just smaller. Salinas is to fresh vegetables what Paris or Milan are to fashion. All the industry leaders have offices there from the titanic Dole and the behemoth T&A down to the merely gargantuan Mann Packing, Merrill Farms or Nunez companies. Massive cold storage facilities squat on the valley floor like toadstools. Long haul refrigerated semi trucks growl around waiting to be serviced by swarms of beeping, whirring forklifts. In the offices walls of clocks mark time for New York, Chicago, Denver, Honolulu and Tokyo. Inventories rise and fall like blood pressure. Salinas is impressive in its own way but it's not even remotely groovy.
A few days after our shopping trip to Salinas I was flipping through the newspaper and I noticed a photo of George Harrison in the sports section. He was posed next to a racing car in the pit at Laguna Seca taking his own turn at being someone's ardent fan.
Maybe I'm thinking about George Harrison so much today because we are digging this years first crop of red carrots. Red carrots come from India. Before Harrison's sitar solo on Norwegian Wood a lot of backwoods ignorati like myself would have hardly been aware of India's existence.
When I first grew the red carrots I sold them as Persian red carrots as per my seed dealer's instructions. An Indian woman paused in front of my market stall, paid for a big pile of the bright red roots, and then rebuked me. "The Persians have nothing they didn't steal," she said. "The carrots are Indian."
People, people, people. George Harrison tried to reach beyond the spitefulness that separates neighbors. In 1971 he used his celebrity and influence to produce the first rock and roll charity concert, the Concert for Bangladesh. Audiences, both at New York's Madison Square Gardens watching the show live and later kids like myself listening in by the record player were treated to performances by a Hindu, Ravi Shankar, India's master of the sitar, as he played for the benefit of Muslim Bangladeshis. The event was a gracious gesture that focused attention on our eternal option of forgiveness and charity over strife. We could use some of this energy now.
I've since researched the red carrot. Yes, it does come from India, but is also native across Persia and Afghanistan. It is an interesting carrot with a rich flavor. It is a very beautiful and healthy food but you don't see it here too often. My experience has taught me this is a plant which is difficult to cultivate with success outside of its native region. I've found that this carrot performs best if I plant it early in the fall for a midwinter harvest, otherwise it may go straight to flower without ever making a fat root. Indian shoppers have told me that even in India it is most common in the markets during the winter. The challenges I've faced learning when to plant it remind me of my life before I became a farmer, when I gardened for the fun of it, cultivating obscure plants just to see them grow.
George Harrison didn't spend much time on stage after The Concert for Bangladesh. He focused instead on his interest in religion and gardening. He even dedicated his autobiography to "gardeners everywhere." As a former and future gardener I could appreciate that nod of recognition. Gardening is love, art and a meditation. Farming has to be a business. George Harrison could afford to maintain lush ornamental gardens in both England and Hawaii because as a musician he'd been bought and sold like a sowbelly. His music is admirable to me because he managed so often to slide a touch of soul into even the most commercial product he performed on.
Unlike George Harrison I've never made it too far from Salinas. I've realized it doesn't matter anyhow. The chill I feel there isn't the town or the people, it's not the icy breath of the refrigerated warehouses or even the cold wind coming in off the Pacific; it's the objective logic of business that reduces food to a product and work relationship to dollars per hour that feels so cold. As long as I'm in farming I'll always have to play along with Salinas no matter where I drop seed. I enjoy a lot of what I do and I make the compromises I have to. But I try to take a cue from a guitar player I admire, and bend a few notes here and there, in spite of the conventions of my industry, just to add a little color and depth. This week red carrots are my bent note. Hello red carrots, goodbye Mr. Harrison, and see you later Salinas.
Somewhere Near Salinas
© 2002 by Andrew Griffin
When I turned on the radio at dawn a few weeks back and heard George Harrison's song, "All Things Must Pass," I figured the one-time Beatle had died. Cancer. I loved the Beatles. The song faded and the sky brightened but my mind lingered on the melody, remembering the Beatles and their music. I remembered Shelby Moss got kicked out of elementary school in '64 because his "long" Beatle haircut provoked an outrage which reminded me that Bobby Slaughter got suspended from high school in '76 because his skinhead look was deemed disruptive. They're probably both bald now; all things must pass. My reverie carried me and my cup of coffee from school to Strawberry Fields, and from Pepperland all the way to India before coming to a halt for a red light at the intersection of highway sixty eight and Blanco Road on the outskirts of Salinas.
You know Salinas. Steinbeck set his novel East of Eden near Salinas. Janis Joplin sang of losing her lover "somewhere near Salinas" in the ballad Me and Bobby McGee that she covered on her last record album. When Salinas isn't a cold and windy back drop for tales of fraternal jealousy, murder, heartbreak and lost love it is the cold and windy capital of California's fresh produce industry. I go there often to buy boxes, labels, staples, seeds or irrigation supplies. I grew up near there too, in the mountains to the south and east, visiting often enough but never quite warming to its frigid charm.
One day maybe 27, 28 years ago my mother, sister and I were leaving Salinas on Highway 68 in our Volkswagen bus. Mom pulled up at the stoplight at the intersection with Blanco Road right in from of Star Market. Another Volkswagen bus, older and rattier than ours, was idling in the next lane. My mother glanced over at the other vehicle and remarked how the driver looked like George Harrison. The resemblance was so striking it was funny. We all had a good laugh. I remember thinking that someday I would be able to measure my wealth by the distance I had traveled from Salinas. Several miles down the highway we made a left turn to go over Los Laureles Grade and the hippie bus in front of us made a right hand turn into the entrance of the Laguna Seca raceway.
Salinas 28 years ago wasn't much different than Salinas today, just smaller. Salinas is to fresh vegetables what Paris or Milan are to fashion. All the industry leaders have offices there from the titanic Dole and the behemoth T&A down to the merely gargantuan Mann Packing, Merrill Farms or Nunez companies. Massive cold storage facilities squat on the valley floor like toadstools. Long haul refrigerated semi trucks growl around waiting to be serviced by swarms of beeping, whirring forklifts. In the offices walls of clocks mark time for New York, Chicago, Denver, Honolulu and Tokyo. Inventories rise and fall like blood pressure. Salinas is impressive in its own way but it's not even remotely groovy.
A few days after our shopping trip to Salinas I was flipping through the newspaper and I noticed a photo of George Harrison in the sports section. He was posed next to a racing car in the pit at Laguna Seca taking his own turn at being someone's ardent fan.
Maybe I'm thinking about George Harrison so much today because we are digging this years first crop of red carrots. Red carrots come from India. Before Harrison's sitar solo on Norwegian Wood a lot of backwoods ignorati like myself would have hardly been aware of India's existence.
When I first grew the red carrots I sold them as Persian red carrots as per my seed dealer's instructions. An Indian woman paused in front of my market stall, paid for a big pile of the bright red roots, and then rebuked me. "The Persians have nothing they didn't steal," she said. "The carrots are Indian."
People, people, people. George Harrison tried to reach beyond the spitefulness that separates neighbors. In 1971 he used his celebrity and influence to produce the first rock and roll charity concert, the Concert for Bangladesh. Audiences, both at New York's Madison Square Gardens watching the show live and later kids like myself listening in by the record player were treated to performances by a Hindu, Ravi Shankar, India's master of the sitar, as he played for the benefit of Muslim Bangladeshis. The event was a gracious gesture that focused attention on our eternal option of forgiveness and charity over strife. We could use some of this energy now.
I've since researched the red carrot. Yes, it does come from India, but is also native across Persia and Afghanistan. It is an interesting carrot with a rich flavor. It is a very beautiful and healthy food but you don't see it here too often. My experience has taught me this is a plant which is difficult to cultivate with success outside of its native region. I've found that this carrot performs best if I plant it early in the fall for a midwinter harvest, otherwise it may go straight to flower without ever making a fat root. Indian shoppers have told me that even in India it is most common in the markets during the winter. The challenges I've faced learning when to plant it remind me of my life before I became a farmer, when I gardened for the fun of it, cultivating obscure plants just to see them grow.
George Harrison didn't spend much time on stage after The Concert for Bangladesh. He focused instead on his interest in religion and gardening. He even dedicated his autobiography to "gardeners everywhere." As a former and future gardener I could appreciate that nod of recognition. Gardening is love, art and a meditation. Farming has to be a business. George Harrison could afford to maintain lush ornamental gardens in both England and Hawaii because as a musician he'd been bought and sold like a sowbelly. His music is admirable to me because he managed so often to slide a touch of soul into even the most commercial product he performed on.
Unlike George Harrison I've never made it too far from Salinas. I've realized it doesn't matter anyhow. The chill I feel there isn't the town or the people, it's not the icy breath of the refrigerated warehouses or even the cold wind coming in off the Pacific; it's the objective logic of business that reduces food to a product and work relationship to dollars per hour that feels so cold. As long as I'm in farming I'll always have to play along with Salinas no matter where I drop seed. I enjoy a lot of what I do and I make the compromises I have to. But I try to take a cue from a guitar player I admire, and bend a few notes here and there, in spite of the conventions of my industry, just to add a little color and depth. This week red carrots are my bent note. Hello red carrots, goodbye Mr. Harrison, and see you later Salinas.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Shop early, and often
The holidays are coming up soon! Surprise and delight that Beatles fan in your life with a copy of Across Their Universe, now price-reduced as a holiday special!
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
Maybe, but with much less talent
Hollywood.com: Eva Longoria Feels as Famous as The Beatles
Latina beauty Eva Longoria has compared the cast of Desperate Housewives to rock legends The Beatles. In a recent interview, Longoria tells of her delight from the crowd's reaction when she and her fellow housewives appeared on chat show Oprah Winfrey Show.
Longoria says, "The cast were on Oprah and the audience were just screaming. I felt like we were in The Beatles."
Latina beauty Eva Longoria has compared the cast of Desperate Housewives to rock legends The Beatles. In a recent interview, Longoria tells of her delight from the crowd's reaction when she and her fellow housewives appeared on chat show Oprah Winfrey Show.
Longoria says, "The cast were on Oprah and the audience were just screaming. I felt like we were in The Beatles."
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Brian May Likes the Beatles!
Brian had a pre-recorded chat with Tony Iommi that aired on Planet Rock Radio. Brian talked about getting back to playing again, and discussed his record choices.
His first choice was The Who 'My Generation.'
2nd - The Beatles - I Wanna Hold Your Hand - he said it holds up very well, although at the time he considered it state of the art, but still holds up.
-------
TI: Brian's first choice - My Generation from The Who. Okay mate. What's - what have you got for number two?
BM: Number two, I've got The Beatles, because The Beatles are still my bible . . .
TI: Great choice, yeah.
BM: . . . how you feel about it, and I think 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand' to me I think is just about the greatest pop song ever written, you know, and I don't say 'pop song' with any trace of sort of putting it down. I think, you know, to write a GREAT 3-minuter, is a great, fantastic challenge, you know, and I don't think anyone's ever done better than this. Again I remember hearing it the first time - I don't know if you do - but it was on Saturday Club. It was Brian Matthew - but I remember it was on my little radio at home. I remember hearing (makes noise of Do Do Dooo, Do Do Dooo") . . .
TI: Yeah.
BM: . . . and you couldn't tell where the first beat of the bar was . . .
TI: That's right.
BM: . . . and it threw me for quite a while and I thought, what an AMAZING way to start off a record and all that strange "Womp, womp, womp, womp, womp" sound, and it's just so direct. It's - it just reaches out and cries out to you. I mean it's gotta be John Lennon's hasn't it. You know, I mean, Lennon and McCartney, but I think I would say probably instigated by John. But I think it's unbelievable and still holds up.
His first choice was The Who 'My Generation.'
2nd - The Beatles - I Wanna Hold Your Hand - he said it holds up very well, although at the time he considered it state of the art, but still holds up.
-------
TI: Brian's first choice - My Generation from The Who. Okay mate. What's - what have you got for number two?
BM: Number two, I've got The Beatles, because The Beatles are still my bible . . .
TI: Great choice, yeah.
BM: . . . how you feel about it, and I think 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand' to me I think is just about the greatest pop song ever written, you know, and I don't say 'pop song' with any trace of sort of putting it down. I think, you know, to write a GREAT 3-minuter, is a great, fantastic challenge, you know, and I don't think anyone's ever done better than this. Again I remember hearing it the first time - I don't know if you do - but it was on Saturday Club. It was Brian Matthew - but I remember it was on my little radio at home. I remember hearing (makes noise of Do Do Dooo, Do Do Dooo") . . .
TI: Yeah.
BM: . . . and you couldn't tell where the first beat of the bar was . . .
TI: That's right.
BM: . . . and it threw me for quite a while and I thought, what an AMAZING way to start off a record and all that strange "Womp, womp, womp, womp, womp" sound, and it's just so direct. It's - it just reaches out and cries out to you. I mean it's gotta be John Lennon's hasn't it. You know, I mean, Lennon and McCartney, but I think I would say probably instigated by John. But I think it's unbelievable and still holds up.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Just a few short weeks before Canadian sealers gear up to kill hundreds of thousands of baby seals, Heather and Paul McCartney journeyed to the seal nurseries on the ice floes of the North Atlantic to focus international attention on the grim fate awaiting these newborn animals. Appalled by the Canadian government’s insistence on supporting the cruel commercial hunt for seal skins, the McCartneys are calling on newly elected Prime Minister Stephen Harper to end the annual hunt forever. Join Heather and Paul by e-mailing the Prime Minister today.
Link to the video (graphic).
Friday, March 03, 2006
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Remembering John, again
My pal, Edna, is well-known for her enthusiasm and poignant thoughts on the world's greatest band. I wanted to share her reminiscence of December 8, 1980. Enjoy! (Reprinted by permission of Edna.)
................................................................
"I was 19. Vermont. College. In the living room of the dorm. A girl came in and said "Pray for John Lennon today." We were all like, what? "Say a prayer, someone shot John Lennon." At which point, this one friend and dorm-mate of mine, who was significantly older than the rest of us (I'm talking, we were all anywhere from 17 to early 20's and she was around 35 or 36, having gone back to school in her mid-30's, which I admired) started gasping and weeping and several people went over and tried to calm her down (not me, I was frozen in place) and she ran out and up to her room. She was a huge Beatles fan, even more so than I was. There were two things she loved in this world: The NY Yankees and the Beatles. For about a week, she would only come out of her room for classes and she wouldn't let anyone comfort her, either. I tried a few times, as we were pretty good friends. She just kept saying "You're to young, you don't understand." I kept protesting "Yes I do, I love the Beatles, too.", and she would respond "No, no, you can't understand, you're too young, no one here understands!"
Anyway, there was no internet back then, we didn't even have personal computers, and being at a small, very rural college in the green mountains of Vermont, we were extremely cut off from any and all media coverage, so it isn't like we were glued around the TV, we didn't even have a television. To my knowledge, there was not a single television on the entire campus. I'm not sure how the girl who told us about it even found out. There was a sense of being cut off.
December 8, 1980, all day, the talk around campus was "Did you hear about John Lennon, I can't believe it." But then it seemed that life went on and I was the only one feeling like, wait a minute, how can this be...how can things go on as normal just now? The only one, that is, besides poor Beth, who wouldn't come out of her room and wouldn't let anyone comfort her, and just kept saying that we all didn't understand. She was so funny, she had a great sense of humor, but it simply disappeared and you couldn't make her smile, let alone laugh, let alone come out of her room. She didn't even want to talk to you if you were under 25, minimum. I felt very hurt, as we were friends. I could take her being sad, but not shutting me out because I was "too young" to understand. Get over it, we're in the same generation. And why wouldn't she believe me when I said I loved the Beatles, too?! This gets back to that other thread in which the long-spanning baby boomer generation was discussed, but anyway. But she did have a point, I was just a "speck", as I call my kitten, Kioko, during the height of "Beatlemania", too young to remember the Ed Sullivan Show episode, etc. Very true. But old enough to have grown up to the Beatles music. And when I was the age that she was during Beatlemania, some of the Beatles best work, their later work, was what formed the soundtrack of my end of the Boom. So don't tell me "you don't understand". I get it. Maybe I was too young to be totally swept under the blissful wave of Beatlemania, but by the time I hit the surf, the Beatles' music and influence had permeated the entire sea. Maybe I was too young to have been in love with them, but not to young to be in love with their music.
I remember at one point, on one of my failed missions up to Beth's room to comfort her, she threw a pillow at me and said "No one around here is old enough to understand and tell them all to leave me alone! You may think you love the Beatles--" at which point I interrupted and said "I DO love the Beatles!", and she forged ahead "--But you don't love them like we did!"
"I am you, we're the SAME GENERATION!" I said, losing any affect of caring and consoling in my voice.
"Maybe, but you weren't there."
Okay. White flag, white flag. Waving the white flag and leaving the room now.
Maybe I wasn't in the audience of the Ed Sullivan Show, or at Shea Stadium, or screaming in the streets as they passed by. Maybe by the time someone gave me "The Beatles Second Album" when I was a child, their outfits and hair on same already were very "old-fashioned" and I never knew them as the "loveable moptops". But I still loved that album as a child, make no mistake! And by the time my end of the generation were teenagers, really getting into their music, their later music was talking to us, to me. They still had active hits on the radio, even though they had broken up years before, and the music that we really got into was their later stuff, which in many ways was their better, more complex, more meaningful, more psychedelic stuff. Maybe she (Beth) didn't understand how much we (extreme-other-end-of-the-boomers-from-her) were into that second phase of their music, I started to huffily think/feel! What I found sad and frustrating was that she shut me and others out who tried to comfort her, saying we couldn't understand. I took it personally because not only were she and I friends, but we were the two biggest Beatles fans there, yet I had never really advertised how much I loved them (at the time I was heavily into the B-52's, Talking Heads, Pere Ubu) and now that I was saying it, it was like she didn't believe me, like "yeah, right, like you can understand anything, ya TEENY BOPPER". Frustrating! I mean: maybe my "Beatles" were different from her "Beatles", but we both still loved the Beatles! The Beatles were such an iconic part of the entire baby boom generation precisely because they grew and changed right along with the entire generation, and thus every single subset of the generation loved them. And mourned John on December 8, 1980.
25 years later, I don't know where Beth is. But she'd be around 60! And I'm 44. In some ways, we truly were from two different eras...yet the same sociological, official generation. And spanning that entire generation, from the time the oldest ones were old enough to twist and shout to the time the youngest ones were old enough to try to make sense of the lyrics to "Come Together", were the Beatles. Beth grew up with them. Younger ones like me looked to them as a beacon of how to be, how to think, what to value, how to see the world, all through their music, their lyrics, their magic. They captured the energy and every aspect of an entire generation like a prism and reflected it back to us in beautiful shards of light."
................................................................
"I was 19. Vermont. College. In the living room of the dorm. A girl came in and said "Pray for John Lennon today." We were all like, what? "Say a prayer, someone shot John Lennon." At which point, this one friend and dorm-mate of mine, who was significantly older than the rest of us (I'm talking, we were all anywhere from 17 to early 20's and she was around 35 or 36, having gone back to school in her mid-30's, which I admired) started gasping and weeping and several people went over and tried to calm her down (not me, I was frozen in place) and she ran out and up to her room. She was a huge Beatles fan, even more so than I was. There were two things she loved in this world: The NY Yankees and the Beatles. For about a week, she would only come out of her room for classes and she wouldn't let anyone comfort her, either. I tried a few times, as we were pretty good friends. She just kept saying "You're to young, you don't understand." I kept protesting "Yes I do, I love the Beatles, too.", and she would respond "No, no, you can't understand, you're too young, no one here understands!"
Anyway, there was no internet back then, we didn't even have personal computers, and being at a small, very rural college in the green mountains of Vermont, we were extremely cut off from any and all media coverage, so it isn't like we were glued around the TV, we didn't even have a television. To my knowledge, there was not a single television on the entire campus. I'm not sure how the girl who told us about it even found out. There was a sense of being cut off.
December 8, 1980, all day, the talk around campus was "Did you hear about John Lennon, I can't believe it." But then it seemed that life went on and I was the only one feeling like, wait a minute, how can this be...how can things go on as normal just now? The only one, that is, besides poor Beth, who wouldn't come out of her room and wouldn't let anyone comfort her, and just kept saying that we all didn't understand. She was so funny, she had a great sense of humor, but it simply disappeared and you couldn't make her smile, let alone laugh, let alone come out of her room. She didn't even want to talk to you if you were under 25, minimum. I felt very hurt, as we were friends. I could take her being sad, but not shutting me out because I was "too young" to understand. Get over it, we're in the same generation. And why wouldn't she believe me when I said I loved the Beatles, too?! This gets back to that other thread in which the long-spanning baby boomer generation was discussed, but anyway. But she did have a point, I was just a "speck", as I call my kitten, Kioko, during the height of "Beatlemania", too young to remember the Ed Sullivan Show episode, etc. Very true. But old enough to have grown up to the Beatles music. And when I was the age that she was during Beatlemania, some of the Beatles best work, their later work, was what formed the soundtrack of my end of the Boom. So don't tell me "you don't understand". I get it. Maybe I was too young to be totally swept under the blissful wave of Beatlemania, but by the time I hit the surf, the Beatles' music and influence had permeated the entire sea. Maybe I was too young to have been in love with them, but not to young to be in love with their music.
I remember at one point, on one of my failed missions up to Beth's room to comfort her, she threw a pillow at me and said "No one around here is old enough to understand and tell them all to leave me alone! You may think you love the Beatles--" at which point I interrupted and said "I DO love the Beatles!", and she forged ahead "--But you don't love them like we did!"
"I am you, we're the SAME GENERATION!" I said, losing any affect of caring and consoling in my voice.
"Maybe, but you weren't there."
Okay. White flag, white flag. Waving the white flag and leaving the room now.
Maybe I wasn't in the audience of the Ed Sullivan Show, or at Shea Stadium, or screaming in the streets as they passed by. Maybe by the time someone gave me "The Beatles Second Album" when I was a child, their outfits and hair on same already were very "old-fashioned" and I never knew them as the "loveable moptops". But I still loved that album as a child, make no mistake! And by the time my end of the generation were teenagers, really getting into their music, their later music was talking to us, to me. They still had active hits on the radio, even though they had broken up years before, and the music that we really got into was their later stuff, which in many ways was their better, more complex, more meaningful, more psychedelic stuff. Maybe she (Beth) didn't understand how much we (extreme-other-end-of-the-boomers-from-her) were into that second phase of their music, I started to huffily think/feel! What I found sad and frustrating was that she shut me and others out who tried to comfort her, saying we couldn't understand. I took it personally because not only were she and I friends, but we were the two biggest Beatles fans there, yet I had never really advertised how much I loved them (at the time I was heavily into the B-52's, Talking Heads, Pere Ubu) and now that I was saying it, it was like she didn't believe me, like "yeah, right, like you can understand anything, ya TEENY BOPPER". Frustrating! I mean: maybe my "Beatles" were different from her "Beatles", but we both still loved the Beatles! The Beatles were such an iconic part of the entire baby boom generation precisely because they grew and changed right along with the entire generation, and thus every single subset of the generation loved them. And mourned John on December 8, 1980.
25 years later, I don't know where Beth is. But she'd be around 60! And I'm 44. In some ways, we truly were from two different eras...yet the same sociological, official generation. And spanning that entire generation, from the time the oldest ones were old enough to twist and shout to the time the youngest ones were old enough to try to make sense of the lyrics to "Come Together", were the Beatles. Beth grew up with them. Younger ones like me looked to them as a beacon of how to be, how to think, what to value, how to see the world, all through their music, their lyrics, their magic. They captured the energy and every aspect of an entire generation like a prism and reflected it back to us in beautiful shards of light."
Sunday, December 18, 2005
A slice of the past
My friend (and fellow Beatleperson) Annie gave me a Christmas card last week. Inside, she tucked an original Beatle bubblegum card from her childhood stash from the '60s. How sweet! I love a little slice of (unexpected) nostalgia every now and then. Thank you, Annie.
And I still need to get over to the museum to see the Beatle photo exhibit. I have two weeks off from work for Christmas, so that will probably be the best time to go.
And I still need to get over to the museum to see the Beatle photo exhibit. I have two weeks off from work for Christmas, so that will probably be the best time to go.
Monday, December 12, 2005
News is a concept by which we measure our pain
Here are some links to the more interesting Beatle-related articles on the Web of late...And not a one of them is a feel-good tale, so be prepared to get a little chill.
Macca: Bambi turned me vegetarian
Cubans remember Lennon's music
He tried his best to save John Lennon
Where were you when John died?
Beatles were to come together again
Lennon reveals dark side of the Beatles
Macca: Bambi turned me vegetarian
Cubans remember Lennon's music
He tried his best to save John Lennon
Where were you when John died?
Beatles were to come together again
Lennon reveals dark side of the Beatles
Friday, December 09, 2005
Thinking about John
There have been a lot of interesting news stories about John and the Beatles lately. I'lll post up links to some of the better ones, soon.
Twenty-five years ago today I went to school wearing jeans and a black ribbon fashioned as an armband. I was in mourning, but still had to struggle with day-to-day trivialities like keeping my bike chain oiled, mathematics, and fitting in with the right clique of school friends.
Twenty-five years ago today I went to school wearing jeans and a black ribbon fashioned as an armband. I was in mourning, but still had to struggle with day-to-day trivialities like keeping my bike chain oiled, mathematics, and fitting in with the right clique of school friends.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
It is better to give...
Jennifer S., my partner-in-craft of the "Beatles Swap" yours truly organized over at Craftster.org, was the recipient of a copy of Across Their Universe (among some other goodies). I hope she enjoys it - there have been quite a few copies sold and the response has been fantastic. And, Jennifer's book is the very first one that I have ever autographed!
Here is what I sent to Jennifer...the book...a Beatles mini-chalkboard...and an all-purpose, all-season ornament that reads "Love is all you need."
Here is what I sent to Jennifer...the book...a Beatles mini-chalkboard...and an all-purpose, all-season ornament that reads "Love is all you need."
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Pop quiz, hotshot
Someone today asked me what my favorite Beatles album is, and I was momentarily thrown off course; taken by surprise. I blurted out "Rubber Soul," and after a few moments' contemplation, feel that I made the correct choice. The runner-up? Revolver, which to me, has always essentially been "Rubber Soul Part 2."
As I type this I'm listening to "Nowhere Man." Such great pop music.
And the album cover is great, too. Gives me chills!
As I type this I'm listening to "Nowhere Man." Such great pop music.
And the album cover is great, too. Gives me chills!
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Now on display!
Open at the Florida International Museum, a Smithsonian Affiliate in St. Petersburg, Florida from October 6, 2005 through January 7, 2006.
Formerly on view at the Smithsonian Institution National Museum of American History, Washington, DC
Formerly on view at the Smithsonian Institution National Museum of American History, Washington, DC
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
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