Goodbye, Mr. Harrison

Goodbye, Mr. Harrison

By Michael E. Driscoll, Torrington

It has been a tough year for many of us. We have watched in horror the worst attack on U.S. soil since Pearl Harbor. We watched as our day-to-day living changed. We are now keeping an eye on what could be a recession period for all of us. Lastly, I saw part of my youth die last week. George Harrison, one of the Beatles, the Fab Four, died. While I admit I did not cry when I lost a recent election, I did cry when I heard the news of Harrison’s death.

I know that I am not the only one who feels as I do—sad. We all have depression periods in life—both highs and lows. But hearing of another loss of a Beatle was a very big low for me.

I can remember listening to the Beatles in first grade at St. Francis School. Their music was played a lot during art time; the year was 1963. I remember the nun turning off the record player to hear the news on that November day that JFK had been shot—girls cried; I will never forget that. I am now 44 years old. At age 6, let’s just say the Beatles were a great new thing for us very young children to listen to that was not Mom and Dad’s music. For the following decade we got to hear music that made us laugh, cry and really think.

I can remember playing with Richard, Jonathan and Elizabeth Monkman (if you lived in Torrington 35 years ago you might recognize those names) playing with G.I. Joes and listening to the Beatles. My favorite place was at the Szabo household. We even had a Beatles Record Club that the twins Tommy and Jerry Szabo and a few other neighborhood kids were in. (Sorry, but their twin brothers Danny and Robby were not even thought of back then.)

I grew up to play in a rock and roll band through high school (I was terrible), though I thank my Mom and Dad for allowing me to play the piano for four years before I played guitar for the next 20-plus years. I would have never had the inspiration to want to play a musical instrument if it were not for the Beatles, and for the concern of my parents that I learn to play an instrument.

I e-mailed a friend of mine named Rex, who let’s say is one of my all-time favorite folksingers, along with his cohort Neil. He worded it best: "R.I.P. George."

Goodbye, Mr. Harrison

, and thanks for all the wonderful music that you wrote, played and sang. I will never forget you or the Beatles.