If I think back on music from my childhood, The Beatles immediately come to mind. They were definitely the soundtrack of many car rides in my memory.
When my oldest son was born, 5+ weeks early, I didn’t have a pediatrician, nor did I know a single lullaby or nursery song. Or so I thought. Doing the new baby rock and walk, I found myself humming Beatles’ songs, sometimes even murmuring the lyrics.
My first digital camera had a memory stick that held about 8 images or a seconds long video. There was a mini movie of the oldest 2 Lilly boys singing their hearts out to Hey, Jude, including all the Judy, Judys and a perfectly timed and heartfelt “Ow.” I have no idea where that memory stick is and it doesn’t matter. I’ll never forget that moment.
My youngest child turned nine today on the very same day that marks 50 years since The Beatles invaded America. Perfect synchronicity. Quinn’s love for The Beatles is pure and relentless, just like him. He hasn’t yet tired of discussing the tragedy of George’s cancer or John’s assassination. He knows the words to countless songs and when he doesn’t, he enthusiastically makes up his own.