Crunching the Numbers
Hello, and welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" You know what, striplings? There are a lot of things that will make you feel old, even when you actually don't feel as old as all that.
I am exceedingly blessed with a very short commute to work. It takes me about 9 minutes, sometimes less, to get from my driveway to the parking lot at the Vo Tech. As I drive to work I listen to news radio. Not talk radio, news radio. There's a huge difference.
If I'm on time, I'm forced to listen to this little daily spot the radio has called "Rewind." It's a cheery little spot, let me tell you. "Rewind" gives two or three events in entertainment that happened on the date, going back into the 1950s and up through the 1990s. Then the spot wishes happy birthday to any star or singer. And makes note of who died on that date. It's an uplifting way to start the day.
Actually, I shouldn't be sarcastic. Listening to the Philadelphia-area news would be far more depressing than hearing that "Bonanza" had its premier today, sixty years ago.
Anyway, we had a big anniversary in entertainment this week. The Beatles arrived in America, 50 years ago, to play some little gigs and be on "Ed Sullivan."
I can remember that. I watched it. My mother let me stay up later than my bedtime.
And that was 50 years ago. It boggles my mind.
Part of the reason I'm so constantly amazed by these numbers ("Rewind" wished Roberta Flack a happy 77th birthday today!) is that I feel younger now than I did five years ago. It's like Roberta's going forward and I'm going backward.
There's no magic to this. I had surgery on my hip. Before the surgery I could not walk across a Target store without leaning on someone. After surgery, walking up a flight of stairs felt like ascending into heaven. Then, out of the blue, I lost 30 pounds. Between those two factors, I'm spry as hell. Gods willing, and thanks be to Them.
But I gotta tell ya, reader. When I hear these numbers, like the Beatles on Sullivan and Roberta Flack inching toward 80, I feel the moving hand of time on my shoulder. It's kind of chilling. You'll see what I mean, youngster, when "Rewind" wishes Miley Cyrus a 65th birthday!
If I can get past the numbers for a minute, I'd like to navel gaze about the Beatles. My mother loved Ringo. She would buy anything and everything Beatles. I had all their vinyl, I had a Beatles lunch box, and my dad made Beatles models from kits. When the Beatles came on Sullivan, I rolled around on the floor, because that is what the older girls said they were going to do.
Beatles, Beatles, Beatles! I probably had the best trove of Beatles stuff at my school. (Most other moms disapproved of the Beatles.) Then John said something about being more popular than God. This didn't sit well with my mother, although she didn't make a big deal about it. But it did inflame the girls in my age cohort against the Fab Four. One of these young ladies organized a Beatle burning, and, bowing to peer pressure, I brought all my Beatles stuff to the event and watched it go under the torch.
With 20-20 hindsight I can see that this was the first time the Christian religion let me down. All that Beatles stuff I had, kept in good condition, might have paid a little bit of college tuition for The Heir or The Spare.
Wow. Fifty years ago! Just let me end this sermon with one little observation. I've read the Bible, and I've listened to John Lennon's music. And although I don't think John was ever really more famous than God, perhaps he should be.
Labels: navel gazing