A day in the life…the day George died.
September 20, 2010 § 1 Comment
Journal Entry written November 30, 2001: This morning when the TV came on they were showing a clip of George Harrison, bearded and singing, “My Sweet Lord,” and I said, “Ray, George Harrison must have died.”
And he has.
A middle-aged woman, one of many who have gathered in the Strawberry Fields section of Central Park, was crying.
We middle-aged women are messy criers but we know what we are crying about. We loved those four guys before we loved any guy who was close enough to touch—I remember crying with my hands in a sink full of supper dishes when George married Pattie Boyd.
Now George is dead at 58, and he looks 58 in the final still they are posting along with his dates. But we middle-aged women still see George arrested at about age twenty-three, and ourselves at twelve or thirteen, kissing the Beatle posters on our bedroom walls.