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I can’t quite wrap my head around the passage of time.  I’m looking for a deeper meaning.  Fifty years have passed since that Sunday night the Beatles were on Ed Sullivan.  I don’t know how fifty years feels, looks or what it means.

I was 13 years old in 1964.  What is the substance of all those years?  I can’t see it or taste it.  It’s measured in who I was then and who I am now and who I was in between.

I think what is so telling about this anniversary is that I have something tangible that I can hang those 50 years on.  Their music still is at was.  Music freezes time and freezes you in time too.  The songs have locked me in a time and place that were the best and happiest days of my life.  As awful as high school and being a teen aged boy were there was always a ray of light in the music.  There were girls and drivers’ licenses on the horizon.  If I only knew.  We thought that we would and could live forever.

I want to take those fifty years and make them into something better than just saying I’m sorry that I didn’t do better or I didn’t always do the right thing and that I’m so sorry that I still did the wrong thing when I knew better.  Those decisions froze in time too.

Turns out that the only thing that does live on is the music.

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