"Well My Heart Went Boom" ~ Paul Turns 73

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Well my heart went boom,
When I crossed that room,
And I held her hand in mine.

The 8 transistor radio pressed to my ear, I memorized every word in the song. Lying on the hill against the frozen grass at the north end of Carl Schurz Park, visions of girls, dancing and holding hands whirled through my head. Had no clue how it all worked, or what I would do, but I saw these things.

It was December 1963, I was nine years old, the Beatles had dropped a bomb in my head that never stopped going off. TV and sports formerly occupied my brain’s whole house but suddenly that year, the master bedroom room was turned over to music and my 45 singles.

“I Saw Her Standing There,” was the first time Paul McCartney’s voice trapped me. Even today, if I stood in front of a jury of my peers, charged with a capital crime, and the foreman was about to read the verdict, if I heard Paul in tune I just might miss hearing,“Guilty.”

I remember missing Pope John XXIII when he died. He seemed like a nice guy, but at least the next Pope had the good sense to take the name Paul. I figured it was only a matter of time before we had a Pope George and a Pope Richard. Even at 9, I knew the church would never allow a Pope Ringo.

Paul’s 73 years old today, the guy’s been cheering me up since 1963.

Happy Birthday, Paul!

If you like my work check out my memoir, "I Hate the Dallas Cowboys - tales of a scrappy New York boyhood."Available at Logos Book Store or online at Amazon or Barnes and Noble.

The book has 107 Amazon five star reviews out of 107 total reviews posted. We're pitching a perfect game. My old world echoes TV's "The Wonder Years" ~ just add taverns, subways and Checker cabs. You can also purchase my photography portfolio, "River to River - New York Scenes From a Bicycle" on Amazon.

Love Is Strange In Yorkville in 1962

My brother, Rory, died September 16, 1998. I’m thinking of Rory today but my specific memory is seven weeks before his death on the night our mother died July 24th. Mom had a long ugly battle with dementia and cancer. I was glad she was at peace, out of pain. I thought Rory felt the same. But Dad was keening like he was a boy who had lost his first love. Dad didn’t leave the chair he slept in for days and never stopped crying. He was inconsolable and Rory and I kept giving each other looks like, “where's this coming from?” Our practiced impression was our parents had endured 47 years of professional level fighting as a couple and hardly liked each other and if they loved each other it was habit more than anything else. Rory and I kept thinking, “When is he going to snap out of it?” Dad didn’t snap out of it. He loved Mom with his whole damaged heart and though Rory and I were there for most of the war we didn’t see things clearly. We weren’t them, we were the kids and kids don’t know everything about their parents, period. You can never know everything about anybody. Rory couldn’t live without Mom. I never saw it coming. It’s hard enough to know yourself. I miss Rory, Mom & Dad, though we spent too much time loving each other in unusual ways.

Mumbo 6PM Tonight At Cornelia Street Cafe

Thinking of LaSalle Academy when Paul McCartney's "Mumbo," on the "Wild Life" Lp came out. The East Village in 1971 was an interesting & crowded forest.

We have a storytelling show tonight @ Cornelia Street Cafe and it's back to school time. Show @ 6pm, artists: Leslie Goshko, Jim Hawkins, Bernie Libster, Jessie Murphy, Thomas Pryor & Debby Schwartz. $7 gets you in and you receive one free drink. A swell deal. Hope to see you there, Tommy

All photographs here by Patrick Cullinan except Lp cover.

Smile Away

Walking down MacDougal Street yesterday, I passed a fellow at a cafe table talking sweetly to a woman on his laptop screen. I imagined her far, far away. Coming from the rear of the shop, I heard Paul McCartney voice, "Smile away, smile away, smile away..."

The internet's done wonders for long distance relationships.

Today, Paul McCartney is 68 years old. Ringo will be 70 in July. They are both still here, two gifts. Happy Birthday, Paul.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HfueUL2LeY

Paul McCartney Turns 67

Well my heart went boom,
When I crossed that room,
And I held her hand in mine.

The 8 transistor radio pressed to my ear, I memorized every word in the song. Lying on the hill against the frozen grass at the north end of Carl Schurz Park, visions of girls, dancing and holding hands whirled through my head. Had no clue how it all worked, or what I would do, but I saw these things.

It was December 1963, I was nine years old, the Beatles had dropped a bomb in my head that never stopped going off. TV and sports formerly occupied my brain’s whole house but suddenly that year, the master bedroom room was turned over to music and my 45 singles.

“I Saw Her Standing There,” was the first time Paul McCartney’s voice trapped me. Even today, if I stood in front of a jury of my peers, charged with a capital crime, and the foreman was about to read the verdict, if I heard Paul in tune I just might miss hearing,“Guilty.”

I remember missing Pope John XXIII when he died. He seemed like a nice guy, but at least the next Pope had the good sense to take the name Paul. I figured it was only a matter of time before we had a Pope George and a Pope Richard. Even at 9, I knew the church would never allow a Pope Ringo.

Paul’s 67 years old today, the guy’s been cheering me up since 1963.

Happy Birthday, Paul!

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My Glove

Kenny Mulhern, the look sharp guy in the front of the photo, was playing first base down John Jay Park in August 1973. I was pitching for our softball team and I heard mumbling coming from Kenny's area. I ignored it for a while but it started picking up.

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Kenny getting comfortable with the tune lifted his voice. People in the park's swimming pool a smile away could hear his declaration. Kenny pounded his over sized first baseman's mitt and crooned.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DN4ZDjFGUB0

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And when I go away

I know my heart can stay with my glove ,

its understood.

It's in the hands of my glove ,

and my glove does it good.

Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo,

my glove does it good.

And when the cupboards bare,

Ill still find something there with my glove,

It's understood.

It's everywhere with my glove,

And my glove does it good.

Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo ,

my glove does it good to me.

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