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That Magic Feeling

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I STILL Love The Beatles

2012 marks 17 years since I became a Beatlemaniac...

 

17 years of loving The Beatles more than anything or anyone. Some call it obsessing over them... Well, if intense loyalty and limitless adoration constitute an obsession, then I'm guilty as charged. In my world, nothing tops that band from Liverpool. The sheer quality of their music is incredible and they themselves are amazing, intriguing and charismatic. From the very early days through the solo years, I love every little bit.

Okay, an obvious disadvantage is the fact that I was born thirteen years after their break-up and thus didn't experience the Sixties. Trust me, had I been around then, I'd have been a great Apple Scruff and probably would have either a) screamed, cried, and been in hysterics along with everyone else (hopefully minus the fainting, though) or b) been one of those hypnotized, gaping at them onstage girls. Watching footage, I do sometimes get that ugh-I-missed-out-on-so-much-by-being-born-too-late pang... but likewise, when I see The Beatles, I get such an incredibly happy feeling; it’s difficult to explain, especially to non-fans. It's similar with the feeling I get when I hear a song and feel – amazed... like my heart's going to overflow with love for this band.

I remember those early days of loving The Beatles. When people more often than not smiled patronizingly and predicted it would be a mere phase. When kids at school made fun of me for liking "old guys." When teachers were astounded to see my binder plastered with Beatles photos. I remember my first visit to London at age fourteen – I was ecstatic. Once I got to Abbey Road, I had to fight off a vision of throwing myself on the crosswalk, screeching, "Oh my God, THEY WALKED HERE!" or begging to let me in to see Studio Two. Or moments of squealing "Oooh! Turn it up!" whenever The Beatles came on the radio. Vigilantly watching the three parts of "The Beatles Anthology" when it aired in November 1995. Hearing the word Beatles and immediately snapping to attention. To be honest, my teenage years were spent wishing that irritating 9 in the year would finally please flip into a 6 – as in 1965 instead of 1995, 1966 instead of 1996... you get the idea. All part of being a Beatlemaniac.

Then there's the age-old question, "Who's your favorite Beatle?" From the instant I first saw the band in March 1995, it was the lead guitarist who played, sang and charmed his way straight into my heart. That humor, his playing and singing, his gorgeously swoon-inducing accent, that serious expression, that beautiful smile and lopsided grin, the intently focused way he played the guitar, everything about George – I was besotted. The more I found about him, the more I came to respect and admire, as well as adore, him. What could I not love? All of that talent, complexity, strength and tenacity, humble attitude, hilarious wit, his love of India/gardening/the ukulele/fast cars... Clearly, I could go on (and on and...) but it's already glaringly obvious: George is my favorite Beatle as well as my favorite person ever and I adore him.

17 years of The Beatles bringing me such joy and being an immeasurable source of comfort. Countless times, they've made me smile when nothing else could. I treasure my collection, I treasure them and they're quite simply the best thing I've ever found.

 

2012 by Andrea