Now and Then, Always

November 3 2023 Day Three

Last night, I sat on my bed with my eight year old daughter and we listened to a brand new song by the Beatles. And just the fact that I am able to write that sentence brings me close to tears.

Not because the song itself is particularly good. It’s fine. Little Bean gave it a 7 of 10 rating, which is pretty fair. (Quick background - the song has been around since 1995, but it was only now that modern technology was able to pull John’s vocals out of the cassette tape and allow Paul and Ringo to layer George’s guitars over the top to create a full song.)

Here’s a link to the official music video. I was a mess after watching it so be warned: Now and Then.

There’s something powerful happening here. Something nostalgic to be sure. And nostalgic for both of us in a sense - after all, even she used to sing “Nowhere Man” and “Help” in the car on those early mornings as I drove her to pre-school. It’s strange and beautiful to think that the Beatles have played a memory role in both of our pasts.

But there’s also a connectivity to music, a line drawn between what and who we were to what and who we are. Even if you don’t play an instrument. Even if you don’t own a single album, or CD.

When I hear the Beatles I hear the static of “Hey Jude” from my mother’s tiny transistor radio atop the fridge in our old kitchen when I was growing up. I hear her voice, still in my head and my heart, when the two of us would shout those Nah Nah Nahs. I’ll always hear that.

That isn’t nostalgia. That’s me. That’s my soul. That’s my daughter and my wife and our weird animals and the garden I don’t understand and cutting the lawn and writing these words and the life we had and have and will have. That’s now and that’s then and it’s all tied together.

And as I sit here today, my daughter’s guitar is leaning on the sofa next to me. She’s taking choir in school and her teacher told the class that if they learn a song, they can come in and play it. So she’s been fiddling.

When we listened to “Now & Then” together, her only critique was, “Daddy, this doesn’t sound like a Beatles song.” She was hearing the Beatles she knew that had taken up space in her head from the past, so I get it. But that’s music isn’t it? Meaning and memory get all jumbled up over the years. Interpretation is never the same.

Today she bangs her head to her favorite rock from new bands like The Warning and old bands like AC/DC and she laughs because none of her friends understand why she listens to Pentatonix. She told one of her friends who was in the car with us and was surprised that I liked (some) country music that “my daddy likes all music just like me.” That was nice to hear.

But like I have, she’ll set out on her own musical journey soon enough. Maybe in 50 years, one of her long disbanded favorite bands will release a new song on whatever new technology is around in the future and she’ll remember my voice. Maybe, but it doesn’t matter.

What matters is that, as always, music can be everything. Music is then and now. Music is life.

Little Bean’s first encounter with a “Beatle” was John from Studio Two.

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Housekeeping: I hope you all are enjoying these off the top of my head daily musings. We’ll see if I can keep this up for the month. Give me a topic you’d like me to write about. Until then if you’re new to Day By Day, welcome to our little corner of the universe! But whether you’re new or have been with us since the beginning, please share as we love to grow our community.

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Upcoming topics will include sewing, pickled eggs, coffee, fire towers, my nephews and of course rocks. Stay tuned!