The Long and Winding Ode: (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, May 5, 2007)
What if dear Lovely Rita wed Bungalow Bill
and they rented a flat from the Fool on the Hill?
Before Father McKenzie their vows would be said,
with the Hendersons all there to witness them wed -
as Rocky Raccoon (and his very worst rival)
offered the readings from Gideon's bible.
Oh their service (I'm certain) would be very nice -
and then Eleanor Rigby would pelt them with rice!
The reception to follow would last through the day -
thanks to Sergeant Pepper a great band would play.
And as newlyweds slip off to their honeymoon
Mr. Kite would protest they were leaving too soon;
but not kind Mother Mary who'd say, "Let It Be"
"They're anxious to be off, as we all can see!"
At last Anna would catch the bouquet that was tossed -
and the Walrus go reeling home, thoroughly sauced!
Just yesterday I returned from a twelve day whirlwind trip to Europe - my first ever. I visited three countries and five cities while I was there, and saw everything from Roman ruins to glorious cathedrals that were centuries in the making, but nothing I saw moved me to tears - until I saw four guys singing on a stage. We decided to see a show while in London, and when my husband read off the various titles I liked the sound of "Let it Be". (I thought I was going to see a play about the Beatles, and had no idea that I was going to see a tribute band.) So indeed these four weren't even who they pretended to be, but that didn't matter. They were singing my life's story. (And they sang it well, with great background lighting that evoked the mood of each represented musical era, and convincing costumes that made me feel like I was there - at a concert that never happened and at this point never could.)
I grew up with Paul, John, George and Ringo. They may not have been the kids I played hide and seek with in the neighbourhood, but they were in my house every day. My grandmother once reported that the first time she ever heard me singing a recognizable song it was "She Loves You (Yeah Yeah Yeah)" by none other than the Fab Four. I have memories of my oldest sister and her love-bead clad friends sitting on cushions on the floor in the rec room, listening to the Beatles while burning incense. I remember my sister Wendy and I singing Beatles songs while we did dishes and sneaking downstairs to the basement to listen to our older sisters' Beatle albums on their portable record player when they weren't home.
My two oldest sisters were big Beatles fans. They even had a fan club as adolescents and collected Beatles bubble gum cards in a home-made album with a cardboard cover. My sister Colleen kept the minutes of these meetings in an old school notebook, since she was the oldest and most organized of the group. Her and Linda saved up their babysitting money to buy the records that influenced the musical tastes of their younger siblings, and practiced their vocal harmonies while they did dishes. (They sounded a lot better than Wendy and I ever did!)
My "Beatlemania" has persisted. I brought my husband (who amazingly had little exposure to their music prior to meeting me) to an appreciation of the Beatles, and raised two sons who are fans. (Sam loves their "sound" and technical proficiency, while Dan - like me - just loves their songs.) I have great memories of Todd and the boys and I singing in the car to Beatles discs on car trips, and of Dan playing his guitar and singing "Blackbird" and "Let it Be." As a person who writes poems, I can say that when I listen to "Yesterday", "Eleanor Rigby" or "Let it Be" I am moved by those lyrics. I can relate to the characters John and Paul wrote about and the feelings the songs evoke. I don't listen to these songs wishing that I could do justice to them with my voice, (I'll never be much of a singer) but I can't listen without thinking how much I would love to be able to write that kind of poetry.
When asked as a teenager what my favorite musical group was my answer would often be accompanied by a groan from the questioner, as well as a request to get with the times and name someone "current". But at that concert on Thursday night I felt totally vindicated, as I sat in an audience of all ages who were clapping and yelling along with the guys pretending to be Paul, John, George and Ringo.
I guess I shouldn't really be surprised that although I saw incredible sights while I traveled it was something I heard that finally brought me to tears. Music can do that. Every life has its own sound track, and the music of the lads from Liverpool makes up a significant portion of mine.
As you read the poem below, think about the soundtrack of your life, and be grateful for the music that enriches you!
Soundtrack: (By Sharon Flood Kasenberg, May 5 - 7, 2007)
Have you ever thought about the soundtrack of your life?
What song did you first dance to as new husband and wife?
What songs you heard in childhood bring memories to you
of holidays together and all those family "do's" ?
I'm sure that through your teenage years you found a special song
that you took as your anthem - you sang it loud and strong.
And surely there were ballads you heard at every dance
that kept you ever hopeful of finding some romance.
When finally you found it, was any music heard?
(I'm sure if it was playing you still know every word.)
When you had your own children, what music did you share?
What lullabies consoled them - assured them you were there?
What hymns elate your spirit and stir your weary soul?
Do you prefer new country, or maybe rock and roll?
What music plays inside you and always makes you smile?
What songs stop you in your tracks to listen for a while?
What music motivates you and keeps you on your feet
when you are exhausted, but there's more to complete?
When you need to be cheered up because you're feeling blue
what's the song you'd likely choose to sit and listen to?
The music's in the background, but still reaches the brain -
we can't sing all the lyrics, but still know the refrain.
It calms, woos and excites us with sentiments it shares;
memories it brings to mind can catch us unawares.
So much that we've forgotten is suddenly brought back
by a few bars of music - a song from our sound track.
