When I'm 64 or how about even When I'm 47

I  have a goal.  It's not impossible, but it will require work on my part.

I dream of being as spry and fired alive as Paul McCartney is at 71.  The man sang and played and conversed with the audience of 40 thousand plus for almost three hours without a real break, not more than 3-5 minutes off stage tops during the course of the whole show.  He sang, he shared, he made jokes, he told stories and played the heart out of a piano and at least 7 guitars plus a George Harrison's ukulele. He seemed to grow younger and lighter as the evening wore on, singing favorites like Hey Jude and Let it Be and Ob-la-di, Ob-la-dah, and rocking out Band on the Run and a fiery Live and Let Die.  

Honestly, I always liked Paul, but this topped my expectations of a concert experience when I'm in a upper section of a baseball park.  I've had closer encounters with performers that felt less emotionally connected and intimate.  Half way through, it struck me, this is a master playing.  This man has been performing and making music for 50 years, and his experience, his pacing, his show revealed the difference between having a hit and rocking on the energy of the crowd and knowing how to bring the audience along with you.  

Marc bought us the tickets after he played "Birthday." for my 47th on the i-pad.   I have fond memories of that song from my brother blasting it on my 24th, the year I got married, to wake me up.  

The concert was a homage to friends and ghosts, performers and friends, celebrities and family that he still wanted to hold onto, and to remind us to remember.  The family photos and footage of his earlier years were especially poignant.   This was Paul's show. 

What I didn't expect, was for his songs to trigger a memory journey for me.  "Let it Be" was the song played on the organ at the end of my Uncle Tommy's funeral.  I could immediately smell the nicotine that always accompanied my dad's oldest brother.   Ob-la-di, Ob-la-dah had multiple connections, from the show "Life Goes On," to my son Paul, to a cassette of songs my then boyfriend made for me when I went to Europe, and sitting in my parents living room with my brothers and a wooden guitar, a toy piano and a drum set made of an oatmeal carton and pots pretending to be three of the four Beatles.   Then there was Hey Jude, and that brought memories of my parents and their friends singing along in that same living room and us playing the record Jesus Christ Superstar to death one summer. 

My one complaint was occasionally the art was a bit too trippy, like when Paul did the silly "All together Now" sing-a-long.  The little figurines on the screen looked like Veggie tales on acid.  Who knows? They might have been.

Sir Paul could have called it quits after two hours, he'd played beautifully, he'd done a ton of favorites and had a show stopping finale.  However this is Paul, formerly of the Beatles.  He came out for two encores.  Regrettably, we had to leave during the second one, as our garage closed at 12 and it was 11:45.  To get home, we split up, Marc taking a cab and me the metro. He won, but I arrived at 12:06.  If Marc had not made it, the evening would have been dramatic, as the metro stops also at 12, meaning once I got off, I was stuck until morning. 

But it all worked out, and today, Paul is preparing to pack up and go onto his next stop in Indianapolis.  One last bit from the concert.  Someone in the expensive floor seats had a sign, "THIS IS THE BEST PRESENT I EVER GAVE MYSELF" and I have to say, it was a pretty awesome present simply  to receive as well. 

Thanks Marc.

Love, Sherry

The Way Back Machine

Peabody here, with my boy Sherman.

Hi ya folks! Gee Mr. Peabody, what are we going to do today?

Today? puffs a few rings out of his pipe. Today my boy, we are going to travel back in time to see...Interrupting, waving his arms excitedly,"To see the beginnings of the American revolution in 1776?"

"No." Peabody looks placid but annoyed.

"To visit Paris, France at the time of the building of the Lourve?"

"No." Raises eyebrows, feeling fatigued.

"To ancient China to watch as they invented gun powder?"
"No." sighs deeply and puffs a few times on pipe.

"Well Gosh Mr. Peabody, what are we going to see?"

"We are going back just to the year 1999."

"The year 1999? But I was born then. There will be a time cross inconsistency. You might erase me from existence if I'm at two places in one time."

"Sherman. Come here."

"Yes Mr. Peabody?"

"I don't know if anyone has broken the news to you, but you are a cartoon figure. You were born around 1966 and you haven't been any age but ten ever since."

"Really?"

"Really."

"So what are we doing in the year 1999? Watching the Y2K that wasn't?"

"No."

"Investing in Enron, Ebay or Google?"

"No, that would be securities fraud. Time travel monitors frown on that sort of thing."

"Partying like it's 1999 and telling Prince not to bother changing his name?"

"No. Today we are going to see what life was like for a struggling writer when she only had four children."

"You mean she's got writer's block and she couldn't think of anything orriginal to say today for her blog?"

"How very perceptive you are Sherman. Have a cookie." Pats Sherman on the head. Sherman eats cookie, "Where'd you get that?"

Peabody narrating.

Operating the Way back machine is simple enough. I adjusted the controls and we were off, to a townhome in Derwood, Maryland, where a woman with four children, sat staring at her computer, waiting for inspiration.

Me: "How did you get in here? I didn't open the door."

Peabody: "We have traveled from the future."

Sheman: "2008 to be precise."

Me: "You have a time machine and you only go back nine years? and why?"

Peabody: "Because your future self is stuck and can't think of anything to write, we thought you might be able to help."

Me: "She does huh? She's still writing?"
Sherman pipes up. "Yes, she's got a bl---"Peabody grabs Sherman, covering his mouth, whispering "We can't reveal too much about the future my boy, the consequences could be disasterous. Either she can or she can't help."
Sherman: "Right! By the way, you have dog breath."

Me: "You know I'm right here in the same room. I can hear everything you're saying in that solliloquy Shakespeare."

Peabody, producing an atomizer and puffing his mouth to freshen up. "Then you know we simply need your help."

Sherman: "How did you do that?"

Peabody: "Hmm? Oh. I'm a cartoon character, I can produce anything, except an actual thing."

Sherman: "Oh." doing some hard thinking.

Me: "Well, you're in luck, I have a piece here, I just finished it. I think it's pretty funny."

Peabody narrating again, "Grabbing the disc, we hightailed it out of the year 1999 and back to our own comfortable living room of 2008."

Sherman: "I don't get it Mr. Peabody. I mean, we did that trip and I don't see any new entry from the year 1999."

Peabody, looking frustrated, "That's because the technology of today is too advanced to read this primitive floppy. We'll have to dig through her records and find a paper copy. Back to the Wayback machine my boy!"

Setting the controls, I decided to avoid another visit with our would be authoress and head straight to her basement of her then new home, there stacked five boxes up and three boxeds deep and ten rows wide, were papers.

Sherman: "My goodness. Doesn't she throw anything out?"

Peabody: "She will tomorrow Sherman, that's why we're here today. She's called 1800 Got Junk and we have 24 hours to find that story or it's lost for the ages."

Sifting through the papers and not a few paper cuts, we found copies of old high school programs for Dracula, The Skin of Our Teeth and Hello Dolly. We also found diaries dating back to 4th grade, every spiral notebook from college and an entire six boxes of lesson plans from three years of teaching.

Sherman: "We'll never find it."

Peabody, "We've got to...and it would help if you kept going through boxes instead of stopping everytime you find a comic book." snatching one out of his hands.

Sherman: "But that's the Xmen one where Storm gets a Mohawk. It's a collector's item."

Peabody: "Be that as it may Sherman, we are here..."

Me: "Hey? What are you two doing here again?"

Peabody: "My apologies, you see, the disc you gave us isn't readable by modern standard equipment."

Me: "You can travel through time and you can't read a floppy?"

Peabody:"I admit, it is a bit ironic. Anyway, we need a hard copy of a story about your children that's funny for tomorrow's blog entry. Do you have one?"Me: "Sure."

Opening the second to last box, Sherry rifled through the papers quickly, producing a three page story and a spiral notebook.

Me: "These should last for a few entrees anyway. Have fun."

Returning home once again, we handed the papers off to the real time Sherry and went back to our home for a well earned rest.

Sherman: "In all that running around, I didn't even get to see the story."
Peabody: "All in good time Sherman my boy, all in good time."
Sherman: "But why run it now?"

Peabody: "Because as any officinado of Sherry knows, the best Sherry is always allowed to age, before it's consumed." pouring himself a glass. Sputtering, "Sherman, what are you doing?"

Sheman is sporting Tom Cruise sunglasses, a mohawk, a motorcycle, guzzling a beer and smoking a huge cigar, "I'm taking a vacation and going cross country!" Wonderwoman is riding on the back of his bike. She giggles. He cranks the AC-DC CD on his sweet ride and vrooms out the door. "Asta La Veesta Baby!"

Tune in tomorrow for the actual episode, the uncovered story on a very old floppy.

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