On Becoming the Subject of a Beatles Tune

It's amazing how wise the boys were, back then.  So young (though older than I was) yet spot on with lyrics and titles about Life.  I confess I haven't done rigorous scientific testing to compare the Fab Four's music with song titles of other classic rock groups, folk groups or any other genre of popular music.   I just happen to love the Beatles, for both nostalgic reasons and because their music is so darned fine, musically, harmonically, philosophically and cosmically.

The titles of so many of their songs just WERE about the important things in life:

And I Love Her   (the words I never tire of hearing)
Because  (...... I said so)
Good Day Sunshine  (excellent philosophy of life)
Help!  (yes please, always and every day!)
I Want to Hold Your Hand (ok)
Strawberry Fields Forever (in the garden.   Also raspberries, apples ....)
With a Little Help From My Friends (more important as the decades pass)
Yesterday (more poignant as the decades pass)
I Am the Walrus (well, the less said about this, the better)

But of course there is one song title that is nudging at every Baby Boomer these days.   You know the one I mean.  Last week it came true for me ...

"When I get older, losing my hair ......"
(dang)

'many years from now,"
(hey, where did those years go?)

will you still be sending me a valentine,
birthday greetings,
bottle of wine?

If I'd been out till quarter to three,
would you lock the door?

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64?

You'll be older too.
And if you say the word, I could stay with you.

I could be handy mending a fuse
when your lights have gone.

You can knit a sweater by the fireside,

Sunday mornings, go for a ride.

Digging the garden, digging the weeds,

who could ask for more?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64?

Ev'ry summer we can rent a cottage in the Isle of Wight
if it's not too dear.

We shall scrimp and save.
Grandchildren on your knee;
Vera, Chuck and Dave

                (oops..... no photo here -- we forgot to have children)

Send me a postcard, drop me a line,
stating point of view.
Indicate precisely what you mean to say,
yours sincerely, wasting away.
Give me your answer, fill in a form,
mine forever more.

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64?
Ho!

Now it's on to Medicare (one year) and Social Security (two years).   How did this all happen?   What a good thing it is to have friends and family, a roof over my head, and 64 years of memories.  Thanks Paul, John, George and Ringo....

Appreciation appreciated

I've been talking with a friend whose parents, both in their early 80's, are declining in health, though so far still managing to live independently at their longtime home. She related a recent conversation with her mother, in which her mother said something like, "After I'm gone, I don't want any kind of funeral or memorial service..." -- something similar to what I have heard other people say as they have reached their 70's or 80's, as well. My friend, never one to bite her tongue, was not having any of this, however. "Well, it's not up to you, is it? We're going to be the ones who are left behind, and making that choice." When her mother protested that she hadn't really done anything worth talking about at a memorial service, that she hadn't had a career, or been much of a success at anything, my friend nearly shouted, "What -- do you think we're just going to forget you?! We'll miss you every day! You're our mama!!!" She said her mother was startled by her vehemence, but also a bit pleased.

This reminded me of something my own mother put in the instructions she left for us after her death. We, her family, unanimously agreed to ignore this, for the same reasons. And remembering back to her memorial service, I feel a bit sad that so many of us -- mothers, fathers, the lady next door, the 'unimportant'... 'uninteresting' ... 'ordinary' people, any of us human beings, would ever feel this way about our lives.

Sometimes I wish that people could attend their own funerals and memorial services. Not to see people crying and sad, or to listen to the often-empty prayers trotted out for even the least churched members of a family. But to hear the little things they did or said that touched the lives of friends and acquaintances, bowling team members, hairdressers..... I was surprised and touched to hear such stories at my mother's memorial service, and I'm sure she would have been astonished. A shy garden club member who was encouraged by my mother to speak up at meetings. A former neighbor who told of my mother standing up for herself with snooty fellow parents at school functions. A cousin who remembered her being a wonderful auntie.

Realistically, I don't see people arranging memorial services for themselves in advance of their deaths, just to find out what people really think of them. But what if we all did a bit more appreciation, all the time, of the 'ordinary' people in our everyday lives?

There are so many people who mean the world to me, I have to ask myself if I tell them so often enough? I tell my sweetheart every day how much I love him. What about my friends? my colleagues? Perhaps doing this can be seen as a kind of spiritual practice, a mindfulness of the blessings of friends and family, gratitude and appreciation for gifts received every day. I admit that I am surprised when someone gives me such a gift of gratitude. We all need to pass it on. Appreciation is appreciated, and needed.