Paul McCartney

When I saw Paul in concert in 2002, I cried. When I say cry, I mean truly broke down in tears. After a myriad of concerts totaling at least 30 shows, he is the only one who has ever brought me to tears. I imagine there are two reasons, the first being I have loved Paul and The Beatles since I was old enough to understand music. I grew up with my rock-n-roller dad listening to music every Saturday morning. I didn't always appreciate his selections, but any variation of The Beatles or subsequent solo careers got a thumbs up from me.

The second reason I cried was my dad, and this will require some background history to understand. My disclaimer is you may not believe this story. It seems far-fetched. My grandfather ruefully told me this story when I was quite young. I was skeptical until I asked my dad and saw his reaction. Over the years, the story has been confirmed by my uncles, the facts have never swayed, and my grandmother told me about fifteen years ago it was one of her biggest regrets. So I have no reason to doubt the veracity. My dad was a Beatles fan from day one of their U.S. invasion. When he heard they were touring and coming to Fulton County Stadium in Atlanta, he was an ecstatic thirteen-year old. He listened to the radio for days upon days, won two tickets to the concert, and intended to take his cousin, Carl. On the day of the concert, no one would take them. He ripped up the tickets in anger and never got to see his beloved group. I think he always held out hope he would one day see them. I distinctly remember my dad walking into our living room after the evening of December 8, 1980. He could barely speak. He uttered these words through tears, "John Lennon was shot and killed last night." There was a defeated look to him, and I later realized it was twofold- he had lost his hero, and his dream of ever seeing his childhood idols was forever gone. Then December 1, 2001 less than a year prior to this concert, the world lost George Harrison as well. As I sat next to my dad at the concert and Paul walked out, I saw him crying and knew this was the closest thing he would ever get to realizing those Beatles' tickets lost long ago. Every emotion and memory he held of The Beatles came out at that culminating moment. And I felt it for him because I probably understand his love for this band as much as he.

I cannot define how much music and particularly The Beatles fuel my life. Seeing Paul McCartney for the first time with my father was my destiny. It was a bittersweet memory forever etched in my brain. Last night, I walked into the concert with my husband on my arm. Instead of tears, I had a ridiculous grin on my face as the show began. There was no regret- just excitement. And it was an incredible show- better than the first. However, I get the impression if I ever see him again, it will indeed be better. I think it's the nature of the beast that my rabid delight in all things Beatles will always find the most recent event the best. And trust me, if the opportunity arises to see him again, I will.