(Jeff Hochberg/Getty Images) (Icon and Image/Getty Images)
It was sometime during the first week of
February, 1969, that I read of the Beatles rooftop concert which had taken
place on January 30 atop their headquarters at 3 Savile Row, London.
My elementary school
library subscribed to the Times of London, which arrived by mail, days after
publication.
I sat there, a seventh
grader, in the library of Carstens Elementary school, Detroit, Michigan, by a
window, the outside view adorned with much descending snow, reading the Times.
It made me feel sophisticated and internationally intellectual to read a
newspaper from a different nation.
 |
| summer view of now closed Carstens Elementary |
As I read from page to page reports of
economics, Parliament, Queen Elizabeth, somewhere tucked deep into the strata
of the paper I discovered a photo and brief description of the Beatles rooftop performance
which arrested my attention. The report focused mostly on the disruption it had
caused to traffic and business activity. I was amused.
My tablemate, Pamela, was not as she was
attempting to attract my attention and favorable comment on her new lipstick which
she had moments earlier applied and of which she was considerably enthused.
I continue to be amused, these fifty-four
years later, not only of the report in the Times, but that I have associated it
with Pamela’s momentary displeasure.
By the way, I remember reading
“Yardley” on the lipstick case. It was a rich burgundy color that rested upon
her lips, which were seventh grade-awkwardly posed as if an advertisement.
Eventually, having
searched for word or description which might regain her favor of me, I offered “stunning”,
which seemed to appease if not please.
