Blackbird singer sings--
Long and winding yesterdays
Here, there, everywhere.
In the summer of 1964 West Coast kids,
especially teenage girls, were eagerly
awaiting the arrival of The Fab Four for a
one night stand at the Hollywood Bowl. I
was 13 at the time and a devotee of California's
own Beach Boys, led by my secret love, singer-
songwriter Brian Wilson. But, on the sly, I was
smitten by the likes of Paul McCartney. Who
could be cuter, what with all that shaggy hair
shaking as he sang through his smile about
wanting to hold my hand. I never got to hold his
hand nor was I allowed to attend the Beatles
concert. Something about them made my
parents uneasy; maybe that radical shaggy hair.
They were deemed a bad influence and ours
would be a relationship of vinyl to turntable.
That is until July 15, 2011 when I boarded the
subway somewhere in Greenwich Village
to Brooklyn's Yankee Stadium to
attend McCartney's "On The Run" tour. There,
under a full yellow moon rising over a packed
stadium of three generations of Beatles' lovers,
Sir Paul carried the night. This 69-year old icon,
gracious and humble and still adorable, gave his
adoring fans three solid hours of solid gold. It was
a perfect night.
