Goodbye

Paul McCartney (1942–)

Someone said it was perverse of me to pick this one from the entire ‘60s Beatles canon. Well, I always was a little perverted. It was Mary Hopkins’ follow-up to “Those Were The Days, My Friend”, and much more obscure. It charmed me the first time I heard it, and I think its sweetness is a nice counterbalance to the shittiest year of the ‘60s. Regarding the Beatles, I was always more of a John guy than a Paul guy. (The ‘80s in a nutshell: Lennon and Reagan get shot, Reagan lives and Lennon dies. Anyway, back to Paul). Very dear friends who are maybe the most intense Beatles fans we know invited my wife Betsy and I to attend a Paul McCartney show at Madison Square Garden, something we would never have done on our own. We expected to be a little bored, but wanted to be good sports. Our friends had, after all, bought us the tickets. Now, I thought I had a pretty good grasp on which songs were John’s and which were Paul’s. And to be honest, if I were to list them all out and see who’s I liked more of, it would be pretty close. But there were a number of Oh-That-Was-His moments. He was charming and delightful, and we enjoyed every moment of the nice and long show. The person I’ve seen most live is Bruce Springsteen. 14 times. The first time, opening for Ann Murray in Central Park.