31 Days

I haven't posted anything here for more than a year. I'd love to blame writer's block or working a full-time job or having to make wholesome lunches and dinners or being in love for the past seven months or my twice weekly calls with my father or having to take out the garbage every Thursday night or grocery shopping or...

I might just be a little lazy and very afraid. Afraid to fail, afraid my writing just isn't good enough, afraid, afraid, afraid.

So I committed to write for all 31 days in October and--boom--I missed yesterday.

While there are plenty of hot-button topics to choose from (Trump, Hillary, the Pope, guns), I decided to play it safe and go with memories.

I saw Ringo Starr and his all-star last night at the Masonic Auditorium in San Francisco. At one point, I was standing, swaying slightly to the music, as Ringo sang, with the entire audience, Yellow Submarine. I felt myself smiling. I was transported back to 1964 when I was five, at the height of Beatlemania as the four lads from Liverpool swept through the United States. I remember singing She Loves You on the phone to my grandmother, who was proud of me even if she probably knew little if anything about rock and roll.

There was the Beatles cartoon show on Saturday mornings and the red plastic Beatles guitar, with the faces of John, Paul, George, and Ringo etched in black on the maestro instrument. There were endless hours listening to the Beatles' albums and cassettes, and then delving into the mysteries of their music. There was even the hoax surrounding Paul's death.

I lived in New York City, as a college student at Columbia University, in 1980 when John Lennon was shot and murdered outside his apartment building, a building I used to run near when I did my daily jaunt in Riverside Park on the Upper West Side.

The Beatles, who I consider to be hands down the greatest rock and roll band of all time, have always been part of my life, even if John and George are gone. And Ringo may be 75 (though he looks as if he's 50 and could run a marathon) and sounding musically rough around the edges and in between, but he is still Ringo Friggin' Starr, one-fourth of the the most amazing rock and roll quartet I have ever experienced.

So work is stressful and Miguel is applying to colleges and Maya is a girl scout and wants to play the violin and loves gymnastics and my life is busy, busy, busy, but for one night I just listened to the music of my youth and I felt very, very good. And maybe it won't inspire me to write more, but it did get me going.