50 Years Later

This is a postcard, a souvenir, we picked up at a showing today of a documentary of the one and only appearance of The Beatles in Portland, exactly 50 years ago today, August 22, 1965. I was unbelievably fortunate to be in attendance, my first concert. Imagine, a 12 year old a couple of weeks away from the start of his 7th grade school year in Roseburg, some 180 miles from Portland,  being in the third row at Memorial Coliseum to see his idols. After 50 years, it still boggles my mind. My memories of the show lie scattered now, little shards of images: the sweat of Paul McCartney's brow; John Lennon's little cap, and playing his Rickenbacker guitar; George Harrison taking a step back from John and Paul to let them be the centers of attention, but him all the while carrying the songs with his impeccable guitar leads; Ringo behind them all, elevated on his drum set, grinning and looking like he was having the time of his life. 

Today's documentary, while not quite as good as I had thought it might be, still provided a road back to 50 years ago tonight. It was really the start of something for me, whatever it was or might have been.