Paul McCartney – Yesterday and Today – Stories Now Told

I just read the GQ article “The Untold Stories of Paul McCartney.” Writer Chris Heath’s interviews with Paul revealed many things even this lifelong fan never knew about the former Beatles/Wings/singer/songwriter/icon for a generation.

I was pleased and relieved to realize the energy, intellect, excitement, and mental clarity we perceive in Sir Paul is, apparently, an accurate impression. The 76-year-old is definitely still all there.

Heath unearthed far more than the sweet story behind “Let it Be” of how Paul’s mother Mary came to him in a dream – oh, so much more… I found, especially interesting, the insight to the Wings’ song “Jet.” While the title was for a pony they had named Jet, Paul seemed to suggest that early in his marriage to Linda, his father-in-law was a “kind of a nuisance,” and might have been the “Major” in that 1973 song.

Continue reading

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Youth Does Have a Shelf Life – Nobody Warned Me

There’s a Rolling Stones‘ song “Time is on My Side.” When I was very young, I believed that. As a matter of fact, I embraced this fallacy until about four years ago.

Truth is, time is never on your side. It is always the enemy.

On some level, I think I was caught up in the great Baby Boomer deception. We were to be the perennial teenagers. Continue reading

Posted in 1960s, Adulthood, age discrimination, Aging, aging, Baby Boomers, cultural history, family, Growing up, Humor, jobs, mid-centurians, mid-centurions, Motherhood, Nostalgia, Parenthood, Psychology, Success/Failure, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

New Tennis Shoes – A Whiff of Nostalgia

Ahh… the smell of new tennis shoes.

My granddaughter got new tennis shoes today, and while lacing them for her, I got a good whiff of that brand-new sneaker smell. I don’t know whether it’s the fresh canvas or pristine rubber. There is just something special about that aroma that really took me back to another time and place. My first memory of new tennis shoes is when I was six years old. My brother, then 12, helped our cousin with a landscaping project. With some of the money he made, he bought me a pair of red, Keds-type sneakers that I had been wanting. How I loved those shoes! I believed I could actually jump higher and run faster in those wonderful red shoes. Continue reading

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I Used to be a Music Maker

Once upon a time, I was a music maker.

I was first a poet.

At age 11, my main Christmas gift was a guitar. Not unlike millions of other kids mesmerized and inspired by the Beatles, I believed I could better express myself musically.

Cradling my guitar, I carefully crafted chords to fit my words.

Composing was a solo act. Yet, I enjoyed harmonizing with a few friends who shared my passion. Continue reading

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The Hierarchy of Problems Principle – Just How Miserable Are You?

More than a few decades ago, as a newlywed, I was complaining to my mother about a situation that felt important to me.

After only a brief period of the ear-bending, Mom abruptly shut me down by reminding me of a family member with a much greater problem. She ended with a comment along the lines of how (in contrast to our relative), I didn’t know what a problem was.


It’s true, my worries were merely emotional and mental, unlike the physical health crisis to which my mother referred. Nevertheless, it was my introduction to the hierarchy of problems principle. Very similar to the adage, “I cried because I had no shoes, until I met a man who had no feet,” there was an order of importance and degree of difficulty, so to speak, before one could qualify for sympathy in my family. Continue reading

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From “Duck and Cover” How I Learned to Live Life in The Fetal Position

Mid-20th century, when I was in elementary school (the 1960s, to be exact), we did not have school shootings, with students killing one another. Our main fear, in those days, was atomic war, when the Russians would drop the bomb, and within hours, maybe days, all that would remain of life on earth would be cockroaches.
With that in mind, some brilliant brain trust in the Office of Civil Defense devised a procedure for school children to follow in the event of what seemed to be that inevitable situation.
Part of the process involved the parents completing a card at the beginning of the school year. The form was basically a directive designating their desired disposal of their child should a natural (or unnatural) disaster require a sudden abortion to the regular school day.

As I recall, the available options on this sort of precursor to the living will were

* Child is to remain at school

* Child will be picked up from school

* Child is to get home the best way he/she can

I was already a latchkey kid, because Mom worked full time, and didn’t drive. So, every year, it was decided that when the air raids started, I should just head home, as usual. That was fine with me, as I definitely preferred to die with my family, rather than at school with a bunch of strangers, crayons, and No. 2 pencils. Continue reading

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Barbara Bush – A First Lady of First Ladies 🌹

I always admired Barbara Bush. In another lifetime (June 1990), I wrote this newspaper column about her.

Sharing it now with apologies to the late Nancy Reagan, for whom I developed a fondness in her later years. 🌹

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