Finally, 30 years later, I saw the Beatles live onstage.
Well, at least one of them - Ringo - but it filled a hole that has been there since 1963.In those years, seeing them perform was almost unthinkable. Everyone except our parents wanted to see them perform.
They were so big, so mobbed, you just assumed the closest you'd get would be their albums - which was more than enough: Their music changed us. One year we were being taught ballroom steps in gym; the next year, at girl-boy parties, we were experimenting with wild, non-touch dancing to the Beatles.
It kind of worried our parents. The Beatles had long hair. By the standards of the time, they were bad boys, or at least mischievous. They helped put an end to the conformist '50s and start the counterculture.
Most who lived through that will always be in awe of the thought of seeing a Beatle. Which is why, even though I seldom go to concerts anymore, I went to see Ringo Starr and a band of other legends from that era. Not that the names of those other legends would be instantly recognizable. That's one measure of the Beatles: Most people past a certain age can name all four. Try naming more than one of the Kinks.
Kink.
Those revolutionary days were so innocent.
As I recall, they first arrived in America in 1963, which by my reckoning is when the '60s began.
Remember their early haircuts? Worried our parents good, though I'm trying to remember why. I mean, you could still see their ears. Maybe it was that they let bangs fall over their foreheads.
Flash forward to Ringo Starr's current band. One male member has hair almost to his waist.
And how about the Beatles' early costumes? There was a bit of tut-tutting back then at those, too. They weren't wild, or even sloppy, but they weren't standard Ed Sullivan fare. Call them avant-garde. Today, when I try to picture them, I think of leisure suits. And the other night? Most in the band had on old T-shirts and jeans.
And the music.
Remember the Beatles' early songs? Our parents didn't like those much either. Too much.
Eras change. Can you imagine some group today writing lyrics about wanting to hold a girl's hand? They'd be laughed off the charts.
Ringo sang a few of those songs at his recent performance, like "Boys."
"I've been told when a boy kiss a girl," he sang. "Take a trip around the world - hey hey, bop do-wop, bop bop do-wop."
Then there was "Sixteen." As in "You're 16, you're beautiful, and you're mine."
Not exactly gangsta rap. It made me smile. I'd gone to see Ringo Starr expecting to relive the feeling of those early revolutionary days, and all I could think about was how innocent much of it had been after all.
Then something else gave me some new perspective. I looked across the aisle and saw a couple who must have been 60. Easily.
First I thought: What are they doing here? Who let in someone's parents? Then it occurred to me that Ringo is - what - 50 himself? More? And it makes sense that when the Beatles landed here in their early 20s, many of their fans would have been still-youthful souls 10 years older, which would make them 60 or more today.
And as for those millions of girls who screamed themselves hoarse at the sight of Paul in 1963? My goodness - they'd be approaching 50 now themselves. Those teenyboppers in miniskirts who worried their parents sick by going nuts over some long-haired rockers - many are now probably on PTAs and worrying about the music their own kids listen to.
I looked over at the 60ish woman, suddenly identifying with her as a fellow member of the Ringo generation, and watched as she sang along with one of the other legends as he took the microphone. The legend's name was Mark Farner of Grand Funk. The woman sang along: "I'm getting closer to my home . . . "
In 1963, or '65, you can bet I'd have stayed to the very end of a Beatles concert, and afterward? Let your imagination go.
This night, I left early - I wanted to beat the traffic.