~3~
She's Leaving Home
Dear dad,
Dad… dad… daddio – one of our many inside jokes (Marty McFly from Back to the Future, if you forgot). Did you actually start driving at 14 years old? I love when you tell me stories about driving bulldozers on your dad’s Staten island construction site or how there is somehow a link between stealing the car to drive to the mall at fifteen and now being an excellent driver. Age was so different when you were growing up. I think with the absence of technology, people were just generally forced into adulthood sooner. Nowadays, being an adult starts much later in life for most people in the sense of full independence – socially, emotionally, and monetarily.
I can’t really come to a position on whether or not this delayed adulthood is a good thing or a bad thing. I think it’s easier to say that, like most anything in life, there is some good and some bad. For one, I love the ability to feel less claustrophobic about the prospect of suburban kids, minivan, golden retriever life being force fed by twenty-five. Don’t get me wrong: those are all things I eventually want. I love our family so much that the idea of continuing to add to it is simply too exciting. Watching my brother and sister both start families of their own is so exciting and special, but I know there is quite a bit I want to do beforehand.
I remember when you were teaching me to drive in an empty parking lot in the Pocono Mountains. As soon as we got in the car, we turned "Revolver" on pretty low and you talked me through the motions; you explained how to turn the wheel and how to learn the sensitivity of the gas and brake. I love anytime we are in a car together. How could I not? My entire love for the Beatles was born in a car, afterall.
We were driving somewhere in the early afternoon. I was young enough to not remember where we were going or why or even how old I was, but old enough to remember every note of “Oh! Darling.” I had heard it before. I knew it sounded familiar, but I recognized the voices and music like Paul was singing directly to me; I was the darling he spoke of, no matter the fifty year gap in release time to present. I immediately needed to know more. Though I didn’t know it then, this was perhaps the most important time we’ve ever spent in a car together.
I’m sure you also remember the instant infatuation. I would do my own research and come into the car playing whatever my newest Beatles discovery was on our morning drives to school. You taught me the story of four boys from Liverpool and the surrounding drama of Yoko Ono, the brilliance of George Martin, and the incomparable mark they left on music around the world.
Quickly, the Beatles became the soundtrack to everything we did together. From bike rides to brunches to background music at dinner. I know since then we’ve talked many times about how my love affair with the Beatles in many ways inspired your continued love for their music. The car was much more than transportation on whatever day that was however many years ago; it was a classroom, a therapy couch, a playground. The Beatles became the crooners of my life.
Arguably the hardest car ride was our drive to move in for my freshman year at the University of Michigan. It was so strange. I was filled with this unbelievable amount of excitement and apprehension; I wish I could have bottled it up and kept it on my desk forever. Through the ten hour drive, we belted “The Confrontation” from Les Mis; we annoyed the crap out of mom with deep dives into music history from the Beach Boys Pet Sounds to Bobby Darin’s classics and back again. We listened to multiple Beatles albums from start to finish on that road trip. Over the years, just like Annie Hall, “My Girl” by The Temptations, or sailing to the end of Lake Teedyuskung and back on the 4th of July, The Beatles became ours.
Move-in day was a whirlwind. South Quad at the University of Michigan was bustling with maize and blue-clad students and families with too many pairs of shoes for a dorm room closet (or maybe that was just me… sorry mom). After a full day of chaos and command strips, we said goodbye. The moment after the door closed I remember looking at the Abbey Road poster on the wall and feeling as if you never really left.
I may have never had an emotional support baby blanket or a stuffed animal I’ll take with me to the grave, but even now, hundreds and hundreds of miles away, the Beatles will always be enough.
Sorry for the sappiness… hope your day was good!
Love you,
Jess