I was on the school bus. It was second grade, I think. It was the Monday morning after the Beatles were on the Ed Sullivan show. My family didn't watch Ed Sullivan. The glamorous, sophisticated, fourth grade girls were in the back of the bus singing, "All my loving, I will send to you. And then while I'm away, I'll write home every day, and I'll send all my loving to you". They belted it out like Broadway and I was wondering what the heck they were singing.

Then I went to my best friend, Sue Jo's house after school. She had the album, "Meet the Beatles". Their boyish, handsome faces photographed in black and white, silhouettes. I was smitten. I stared and stared at their faces. We played the album on her hifi.

"MOM!!!" I said, when I came home. "You have to buy me the Beatles Album!!!" It was my first record. We had a funny little record player that looked like a blue suitcase. You opened the top and set the dial for "33" or "45". You put the record on a spindle and twisted a dial. An arm swung over and the record fell onto the turntable. The arm suspended over the record and settled down slowly with the needle on the vinyl and then --- ecstasy. "All my loving". "I want to hold your hand". "She loves you." Be still my beating heart.

My friends and I stared at their pictures. "Paul is definitely the cutest." "Definitely." "Definitely." "I like George." "No, he's the second cutest." "I like Ringo." "Ringo? He's got a big nose." "But he's CUTE." "What about John?" "Well, he's the third cutest."

Years passed. "I'll follow the sun". "Yesterday". "I've just seen a face". "Michelle". "Got to get you into my life". "Eleanor Rigby". Then the Beatles grew musically. And I grew physically. "She's Leaving Home." "Lovely Rita." "When I'm 64."

Then came the White Album. "I will." "Martha, my dear." "Mother Nature's Son." Then, "Hey Jude". "Get Back." and "Let it Be". And things like, "Her majesty's a pretty nice girl but she hasn't got a lot to say" and "Golden Slumbers Fill Your Eyes" and "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" and "Back in the USSR". "Blackbird". I realized my life's sound track was imprinted with the Paul songs. The little snippets of creative juice that poured from Paul like minuets out of Mozart. Or whatever it was that he wrote.

And this was all during my elementary, junior high and high school days. Paul's lovely, sweet and innocent music. His big brown eyes and the way he shook his hair when he sang.

Fast forward to 2005. My friend, Sandy Matsumoto, bought me a CD, the Beatles' #1 hits. My kids loved it. We bought Abbey Rd. We bought Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. And my kids became Beatles' fans. Especially the Paul Songs. There is something about him that just nailed the good and the innocent, the faithful and the true.

The other day I saw a financial planning commercial on tv about him. "This is Paul". I looked up and saw little video clips of him with a scruffy beard, holding his baby daughter. Scenes of playing on stage. "This is Paul." Husband. Father. Rock star. Singer. Musician. Businessman.

I don't care who he is. He gave my life moments of beauty with his amazing sensitivity to love and moments of romance. It doesn't matter that his music became kind of blecchy with "Wings". Overall, he did a good job. He loved his wife beyond death. They were never apart more than 11 days during their 25+ years of marriage. He loves animals. He's faithful to his causes.

I want to thank Sir Paul for the contribution he made to my life. This month we've been painting the house with the CD player blasting songs of the Beatles. They were all wonderful, but to me, Paul was the heart of the Beatles.

[written on November 6, 2005]