At last, the world is waking up to a powerful truth I have known for decades but others have been slow to acknowledge – that John Lennon, though a musical genius, in no way compares, in accomplishments, skill, and heart, to his bandmate and fellow genius, Paul, aka Macca.
Cool people – guys especially – seem to think it’s wimpy to love Paul, because he unselfconsciously sings adoring love ballads as well as screaming rockers, because he loves women and children and doesn’t eat or wear animals, because he has tried out just about every musical genre and not succeeded at all of them.
This writer gets it, at last. A terrific article, except for what he says about the left at the beginning, which nearly destroyed the whole thing for me but couldn’t.
I must send the author my book, so he can read about a lifelong fan, not a Johnny-come-lately. Am leaving for Montreal this week, for the great thrill of going with Lynn to see Macca at Montreal’s Bell Centre. Scream.
Here’s today’s joy, in the absence of my friend, who’s back in Montreal: the north side of the garden this morning.
The fall-blooming clematis on the fence gets me every year, with its swath of scented white stars. Am about to go and pick the season’s umpteenth fat cucumber.
Teaching starts tonight, the Ryerson class nearly full. Back in harness. Onward.