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.