||The Fab Four & Me
. . . . . .
Other "sightings" (or Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, Beatles-style): We had a friend who lived in the Dakota on Central Park West in Manhattan and her kitchen window faced John and Yoko's kitchen window and there had been alleged sightings of the Ono-Lennons in various stages of dress. Whenever we visited there was a lot of waiting for John or even Yoko to come into the kitchen and make a sandwich. Didn't happen on our watch.
Our study-hall monitor in middle school had traveled in England and told us that she had tea with George Harrison's mother. Miss Canning said that she would write a letter to Mrs. Harrison and tell her that there were a lot of 6th graders at the all-female Academy of the Sacred Heart in New York City who would love to meet her son. She may have written the letter — she was that kind of person — but we never heard back. (Miss Canning, if you have any more information on this, please contact me.)
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“Perhaps I was the only American
girl that year to have them all to myself”
Oddly, the most seemingly accessible Beatle, Ringo, has proven fairly elusive. Haven't seen him in 39 years. But my seven-year old son did play Ringo in an original theater piece that he and my daughter wrote and performed in our living room last summer.
The half-hour in the hospital waiting room when I was a baby remains my biggest Beatle sighting. Perhaps I was the only American girl that year to have them all to myself — in a completely innocent way, that is.
It's a famous family story. I don't really remember, which is probably a good thing because then I would remember the pain of losing my fingertip. But the details of the incident are burned into my mind to the point that I can see my toddler self, my dashing father in a Savile Row suit, the Beatles joking around as we've all seen in those early press conferences and heard on the BBC interviews, all in a spare 1960s hospital waiting room as one era ended and another was about to begin.
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