The start of it all

27 08 2009

Laying on the floor, side by side, looking at the day’s newspaper, out popped out that week’s TV Guide.  On the cover were four shaggy-haired men, a familiar look in the mid-70’s.  “Mom, who are those guys?” I asked.  “They’re the Beatles.  They were really popular when I was a teenager.”  I don’t remember where the conversation went from there, but I’ll never forget the picture or that moment.  From then on I was fascinated by the Fab Four.  I was no more than 5 years old, maybe 4.

My mom would shop in the Federal store or in Montgomery Ward and turn me loose in the music section.  I would thumb through record-albums, spending most or my time in the Beatles section, dreaming of owning their albums, really having no clue about most of the music.  But I knew they were good.  Damned good.  It was as if I sensed it.  Eventually, for birthdays and Christmases, I got their records and 8 tracks from hip relatives.  Their music was like a drug.  I couldn’t get enough.

But it was this image, that graces the cover of this month’s “Rolling Stone” magazine, that really started it all.  After seeing these 4 guys on that TV Guide — Lord knows why they were on it — music for me was never the same.  Life, in fact, was never the same.





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