Wednesday, October 21, 2015

my three seconds of non-fame

Sick with a cold - my time with Macca wore me out. My time with Ringo, last night, did NOT wear me out. Ringo is a tiny little man, like a leprechaun; he has put together a great band of six rock and roll notables, which is good because he himself is not doing much on stage. He sings the same songs as always, and let's face it, Boys or I wanna be your man were not great songs when the Beatles did them, let alone decades later. His voice isn't great, and there's a fabulous drummer to supplement what he does on drums. At one point, he left the stage entirely for a song and returned wearing a sparkly top.

I enjoyed and am glad I went - he is part of the legend, after all, and one moment was worth it all. At the end of the brief show - exactly two hours, which by Macca standards is nothing at all - he of course sang With a little help from my friends. In the back and forth of the song, he sang the answers and the crowd sang the questions.  Every single person in Massey Hall was singing at the top of their lungs. WOULD YOU BELIEVE IN A LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? WHAT DO YOU SEE WHEN YOU TURN OUT THE LIGHT? It was a beautiful moment. I do have to point out that song is mostly by Paul, with that last line answer - I can't tell you, but it feels like mine - by John.

Speaking of Macca, my new friend, the Macca-mad Anne - much more dedicated than I - sent me a clip of him reading aloud her sign about cookies. As I watched, I could not help but notice my very own self a bit later, standing in front of a sign about being 58 and marrying Paul. It's at about 1:17.

There she is, the tall woman in blue. The big button on her vest was sent by a friend from Liverpool; it says "I love Paul." There's a very small anti-Harper button there too. Today I threw the Harper buttons away. Anna and I exchanged a long list of all the things Trudeau said he'd do right away. If he even tackles a few of them, he'll be moving non-stop for the next few months, and the heavens will sing.

In my usual excess, I have four books to read right now, not to mention the books about writing I need to get through, articles on the net, the ever-present New Yorkers and the newspaper. Three library books: "Older, Faster, Stronger," by my colleague Margaret Webb, about how women can and should improve their fitness level as they age; the new Etgar Keret book of memoir stories, "Seven Good Years," and a book recommended by my blog friend Kerry Clare, "The Folded Clock," by Heidi Julavits. And a special treat - I was just thinking I must read "Girl Runner" by my other blog friend Carrie Snyder, when someone left it in the shared books pile at the Y. I'm partway through. That woman can run, and that woman can write. My God, can she write.

So, a perfect day to lie in bed croaking and snuffling and reading. And praising be, once more, for this brave new land.

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