Happy Birthday Paul Girl

Peggy Carriker Rosenbluth ~ Paul Girl Era
In honor of my sister's birthday, I took a moment to re-read one of our favorite essays: Paul Girl, by Anna Quindlen. You should too, it will bring a smile to your face, especially if you're old enough to remember at least one appearance of The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show.

Just the other day, Peg and I were asking ourselves, "Are we OLD or WHAT?!" Over the decades, we have gaged our place in history with the query, "Do you remember seeing the Beatles on Ed Sullivan?" (Gleefully, yes.) Or, even earlier, "Do you remember when JFK was shot?" (Sadly, yes).

In 1985, an unexpected indicator came up at a grad school party when a stranger inquired if I was young? or old? What did he mean? "Well, lets put it this way," he replied, "did you have to learn to use a slide rule in high school?" Despite my eternally youthful appearance (remember, I was a mere 28 years old at the time), when I said "yes," he declared "OLD!" I had to laugh! Not long after that, I saw some high school kids at a fundraising flea market selling old books and lab equipment, including "antique" slide rules; so, I guess the party guy's assessment was not far off the mark.

But getting back to the Beatles and the 60s. Quindlen recalls that you had four choices in 1964 -- you could be "a Paul girl, a John girl, a George girl or a Ringo girl . . .

The girls who picked George as their favorite Beatle were self-contained, serious, with a touch of the wallflower and a bit of the mystic. The ones who chose John were aggressive, irreverent, the smart mouths, the wisecrackers. Ringo got anyone who was really determined to distinguish herself, the kind of girl who would wear wax fangs or weird clothes, who would choose the boy at the back of the band, with the big nose and the strange looks.

Paul got the little ladies - like me. He was cute in a mainstream way, funny in a mainstream way, a public persona not much different from the most popular boys in the class. He was for girls who were traditional, predictable, who played by the rules."

I loved my sister's response when I first shared Quindlen's essay with her twenty years ago: "I was (still am) a 'Beatles Girl.' I like to believe I'm a combination of all of the best parts. A down - to - earth, mystical, irreverent, and wax fangs type of person. But mostly I'm a (Sir) Paul Girl."

And me? Yes, a Paul Girl -- but in a George ("Give Me Love Give Me Peace on Earth"), Ringo ("Thomas the Tank"), John ("Imagine") and Yoko ("Woman is the Nigger of the World") kind of way.

Like the Model Peg Made!

~~~~~~~~~~

P.S.
Previous
Anna Quindlen Posts

Mind the Gap

Take This Quiz!

Do You Think It Is?

Camera, Memory Keeper, Time Machine

Fairy Tale

Your House, Of Course

Homebody Anybody

Homebody Somebody

Play With This

Life Imitating Art

ART: The Beatles
Abbey Road Album Cover

LIFE: My brother's students,
crossing the street on a field trip

"Paradoxically though it may seem, it is none the less true
that life imitates art far more than art imitates life.”
~ Oscar Wilde ~

***********

Yet another example of
Life imitating art:
James B. Fuqua is skeptical of the new Halloween decoration!

"Is this new kid for real? Hey, can you feel this?"

Silhouettes: If only I'd caught the moment
when Fuqua was holding his tail aloft!

With A Little Help From My Friends

Custom Guitar Pick
To celebrate the New Year -- and because this is the beginning of Year Four for my Fortnightly blog of Connection & Coincidence; Custom & Ceremony, and because January is a time to look backward as well as forward -- I am posting this song of thanks to the hundreds of friends, family, and followers who goad me on my way . . . I get by . . . gonna try . . .

~ with a little help from my friends ~

To read some of the encouraging words
and unique perspectives
for which I owe my kind readers many thanks
see my new post

"The Second Page"
on
The Fortnightly Kitti Carriker:
A Fortnightly [every 14th & 28th]
Literary Blog of Connection & Coincidence;
Custom & Ceremony

My Grandfather's Birthday

Paul Jones Lindsey
4 November 1895 - 11 June 1983
I took this photograph of my grandfather in September 1982
In the twenty-six years that I knew him, I learned so many things from my mother's father. What a treat it was to hear him recite the poems of Robert Service, especially "The Cremation of Sam McGee," and to listen to his real - life stories of the Dalton Gang (see my post from the Dalton Museum) and Buffalo Bill (see last summer's post, "Hominy, Horseradish, and Buffalo Bill," on my Fortnightly Blog).

The Atchison, Topeka, and Sante Fe, June 1966
Here I am with my Grandpa Lindsey, ready to ride the train
to Kansas City to visit his sister, my Great Aunt Mabel
Shortly before he died, my grandfather taught me a very important lesson about trusting and sharing when it comes to family heirlooms. It was Christmastime 1982 when he offered me the 1913 photograph of his brother Sam, who was killed in WWI. Knowing this to be one of his most treasured possessions, I said, "I don't want to take it if you're not ready to part with it."

My grandfather responded with words that I shall never forget: "Well, Honey Girl, if I give it to you, I'm not parting with it." As I left his house that December night to return to college, he wished me a Happy New Year and said, "You're a quarter of a century old now, Kitti Girl. You must make your own decisions." That was the last time I saw him. I should have got on a Greyhound Bus and gone to visit him over Spring Break; I regret to say that I did not.

I used to think that one day, if I had a son, I would name him after this favorite grandfather. As it turned out, however, I married a man with the last name of "McCartney" and decided that it would not be fair to name a child "Paul McCartney," thus saddling him with the task of repeatedly denying that his parents had named him after one of the Beatles. Also, as it turns out, my husband Gerry, hails from Liverpool, though he claims no relation to the famous Paul, other than to say that they are related "by talent"!

Still, despite this quandary of surname, I was reluctant to relinquish my plan to honor my grandfather with a namesake. Our first son already carried the family name of "William," so Gerry and I settled on naming our second son after Great Uncle Sam, whose memory my grandfather had cherished all his life. I feel sure that having a great-grandson named Sam would suit him every bit as much as having one named Paul. Here is the picture that my grandfather passed on to me, and that I in turn will pass on to my son, Samuel Jerome McCartney:

Samuel Gordon Lindsey,
my grandfather's brother,
in 1913, age 20
Died in France, 31 July 1918
at the Battle of the Aisne-Marne

A letter from my grandfather ~ October 19, 1980:

"About the picture of your Uncle Sam: it was taken close to Barnsdall, Oklahoma, about this time of year 1913. He lacked a little over two months of his 21st birthday. We were both working on a booster station there and I had my 18th birthday while there. He lived five years after that. He was killed July 31, 1918 in what is known as the Aisne - Marne Battle. Aisne - Marne are two rivers running parallel to each other, and the battle was about 30 miles northeast of Paris. There is a National Cemetery of the same name, and Sam was originally buried there but was brought home two years later and buried at Niotaze. He looks like a little boy in that picture, but he was much of a little man. Never weighed as much as 150 until he went to the Army."

Click below to hear
the inimitable Johnny Cash (1932 - 2003)
or
Robert Service himself (1874 - 1958)
recite "The Cremation of Sam McGee"