I've Got a Feeling

Once my cataract surgery had been completed, I immediately logged onto Disney+ so I could watch "Get Back." Instead of bingeing, I decided to watch it in hour-long increments. I wanted it to last longer; I wanted to savour each moment.

The first thing that struck me when I started watching was how much watching The Beatles felt like watching old friends. Funny how the artists we grow up enjoying can feel so familiar. I remember, after John died, dreaming that he had been a good friend. The sense of familiar comfort was and obviously is still so strong.

The Beatles were the soundtrack to my childhood. They appeared on Ed Sullivan two days after my eighth birthday. When my mother arrived at school to pick us up on Monday afternoon, she nearly squealed with delight when she handed us the flat, square paper bag that contained the 45 of "I Want to Hold Your Hand." And thus began the entire family's love affair with The Beatles. 

We had had some advance news about the Fab Four. My uncle was a journalist working in New York City at the time and had told us about this pending musical phenomenon. We were all waiting on pins and needles for the Ed Sullivan Show on that particular Sunday. And, of course, we weren't disappointed.

We loved them immediately, all of us did. In years to come, my father would use their lyrics in his Political Criticism class, along with the lyrics of Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger, Bob Dylan, and Paul Simon. We were absolute fans. When "A Hard Day's Night" came out, we were there at the cinema to see it as soon as it came to town. In fact, we saw it more than once. The same can be said for "Help."

In 1967, we had the incredible opportunity of a European summer holiday. We spent two months in the UK and Europe, spending most of our time in England. England always made me think of my favourite literary characters: Christopher Robin and Winnie-the-Pooh, Sara Crewe, Mary Lennox, Dr Dolittle. But now England represented four more people - John, Paul, George, and Ringo.

It was a great time to be in London - it was the cultural centre of the world in 1967. We visited Carnaby Street and I got a bright orange mini skirt at Kids in Gear. The department store Peter Jones was around the corner from our B&B in Chelsea near Sloan Square and there I bought two pairs of extremely "mod" shoes (one pair pink, one pair silver) that I wore with great pride upon our return to the States.

My favourite memory may be the visit we paid to an old friend of my maternal grandparents. Terry Morgan, his wife Phillipa, and their sons Blaze and Tarquin lived in a lovely terraced house in Islington. Terry had had minor success in Ealing Studios movies in the 40s and 50s, but now worked in production. He was in his mid-6os with wild longish white hair and a full beard. "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" had just been released and Terry was anxious to play it for us. "When I'm Sixty-Four" reduced him to tears. We loved the album and bought a copy there in London; the Parlophone label became the newest addition to our collection of  The Beatles' albums released in the States on the Capitol label. 

We watched "Yellow Submarine" when it came out. ("Magical Mystery Tour" was not broadcast in the States as far as I know, and if it was, it wasn't a channel we were able to receive.) Every album was added to our family collection as it was released. And then the news came in the spring of 1970 that The Beatles were breaking up. They had been a huge part of my life from age eight to 14. To quote another song from the 60s, The Beatles had "taken me from crayons to perfume." Just about broke all our hearts, but we continued to listen to their music and each new release that came from each of them. There would be no end to our devotion to the group or the individual members. They would be forever a big part of our lives.

When John was assassinated in 1980, I heard the news as a bulletin that interrupted "The Tonight Show." It was very late but I immediately called my parents. My father sleepily answered the phone. "Someone shot and killed John," I said, my voice shaking. My father didn't have to ask which John. That Christmas we all felt sad and couldn't listen to the music without tears. To this day, "A Day in the Life" makes me feel both happily nostalgic but so, so sad. In the first moments of the song, I am transported back to London in 1967 followed closely by remembering the heartache that came with John's tragic death (the song accompanied most news reports in the days following).

In January of 2007, Chris and I traveled to the States so he could meet my folks. We decided to make a holiday of it and visited Washington, DC, New York City, and Boston as well. While in New York, we made a trip to Strawberry Fields in Central Park. I was surprised how it affected me. I was deeply moved to see the plaque listing the 120 countries that had contributed to the memorial and endorsed it as a Garden of Peace. It seemed a fitting tribute to a man who, despite his own flaws and faults, sincerely wished for a world free of hatred, anger, and war. (Ironically, I write this as the world holds it breath to see what Russia is going to do as it has amassed troops at the Ukrainian border. To quote Pete Seeger, "when will they ever learn. When will they ever learn.")

I realise how silly it may seem to some people that The Beatles had such an impact on me and my family. When my mother died, "In My Life" was played gently on the piano as the visitors arrived for the memorial service. It was lovely and just what my mother would have wanted. We all loved their music, their creativity, their humour, their genius. And as I watch "Get Back," I feel that affection all over again.