…I’d go to the free Paul McCartney: The Lyrics exhibition in London at the entrance hall to the British Library on Euston Road. It’ll be there until March 13 and features photographs, archive material including handwritten lyrics, and previously unpublished comments from Sir Paul about the songwriting process. The exhibit spans his career from 1956 to the present.
I am not in England, or London, or the British Library. I am in Houston, as I was on December 4, Dennis Wilson’s birthday, when Tom and I went to Brazos Bookstore for a few gift ideas. It was there I sent him an apologetic look and said, “I don’t know what you’ve gotten me yet, and I know this is pricey, but I think I must have it.” He had already bought some gifts (at least one of which Debby later generously paid for and took from him to give me), and what I wanted was indeed pricey (but certainly nowhere near the amount many, many times it that the autographed copy sold for in their store, so there’s that).
I’ve barely begun to explore it yet, because I’m going to savor it for a long time, delving into it, and feeling grateful that I’ve been alive in the world at the same time as the Beatles and Wings and Paul McCartney. I’ll try not to write too much when I share the following photos, but I’m so grateful for this muse, this artist, this man, this musician, who is a constant source of inspiration and to whom one of my own characters frequently pays homage.
I am not so far away in time, after all, from the little girl who once put a ball under her shirt, embraced the bulge with her hands, and announced to the world she was having Paul McCartney’s baby.
Only yesterday, I wrote a scene in which my musician plays “Maybe I’m Amazed” on piano for the woman he loves. It was so unexpected that this was the song, among so many, that made me start crying when I saw Paul McCartney perform in 2019. It’s just… everything it should be, in his writing, his history, and in the things I imagine.
My first husband (SDG) gave me this little dog, who I named “First,” on the first anniversary of our “going steady” in high school. Often when we’d drive between Tuscaloosa and our hometown when we were in college, First would ride along, and when we listened to the 8-track of Band on the Run in SDG’s little orange Volkswagen, every time “Let Me Roll It” played, I’d pick up First and make him play air guitar. I don’t know if SDG laughed because of First or because I laughed so hard at First when I made him play, but this is a memory that never fails to make me happy. Some things are right for their time, and then we change and go somewhere else in our lives. That doesn’t take a single thing away from what we cherished.
I suppose that’s also one lesson of the Beatles.
Riley, I never forget that you left on January 16 in 2008. I thank you again for all the times you played and sang Paul McCartney songs for me on your guitar and piano, even though you reminded me that John was your Beatle and George was mine, and could I just please request them now and then? I didn’t have to. You always knew who I needed to hear from among them, as well as when my spirit required Bob Dylan or any of the other music that lit up my world. I will love you and miss you forever, my friend.
1. How did George feel about you carrying another Beatles baby?
2. In the before times St Pete Lit, who ran my writers group met one Tuesday a month at a whiskey bar and wrote letters to another group at Brazos
3. I once read that John, for a time thought Hey Jude was about him, not Julian. It’s always made me a little sad, no matter who it is about.
1. George didn’t care. I was eight and he had all those pretty, leggy models after him, and eventually, an entire group of Apple Scruffs.
2. Connected to the bookstore? Cool.
3. I’m sure the song touched a range of feelings, worries, and changes in their relationships of that time, and both would feel the song was about them as well as about Julian.
You’re sad? Take a sad song, and make it better. Repeat Beatles lesson: Change and movement don’t take a single thing away from what we once cherished.
I think I relate it to my parents divorce and how I lost my Dad. I don’t have a lot of good memories of him, BUT because he left my Mom had a lot of adventures just her and I.
I like The Beatles, but I don’t own any of their music.
If I was still working in London, I would go along to the British Library on your behalf.
Do you miss London? I’m not sure about the location/size of your work environment, but your home location looks so serene to me, and I appreciate seeing the other interesting places nearby.
Not really. It’s a buzzing city and everything is on one’s doorstep, but I have moved on in myself since then. Dorset suits where I am now.
Sort of like Montrose and me. Everything was close and convenient, and so many restaurants and museums and shops which we truly took advantage of while living there. But it got too crowded and too expensive (mostly the property taxes as it grew and gentrified), so our suburb suits us better now. And I love having a big yard for the dogs.