One of the most delightful moments of parenting comes when a child independently discovers something that has given you joy for years, and begins to express their own joy.
I first discovered The Beatles in a big way when my mother started dating the man who would become her 3rd husband. I was fourteen, and just beginning to branch out from my parents’ taste in music. Mum was early-Beatles: she hated what they did after they became “stupid hippies”. Ray was just as conservative, but for reasons I never figured out, had a copy of The White Album amongst the Jose Carreras and London Symphony Orchestra. For other reasons I never figured out– he openly refused to move in with Mum until we were out of the house because he didn’t want to be bothered with us– he gave me free reign of his record collection. And I went nuts for this album. Nuts, I tells ya. And my life-long love for The Beatles (and yeah, I’m Team Stupid Hippies) was born.