Not John. Not Paul. Not George.
Maybe it was his soulful blue eyes. His "aw gosh" smile. His short stature. Or perhaps, somewhere deep down in my bones, I knew I was going to spend most of my life in the jewelry industry.
Whatever the reason, I love Ringo. (Oh yes, I do.) There he'd sit behind the drums, mighty ringed and shaking that marvelous head of Beatle hair to the music, smiling away, and I was lost.
Mind you, I was never a screamer. I would just watch, rapt, and sigh. And dream of the day we would meet.
It wasn't by any means a romantic desire (I was far too young for that) but more of a puppy love. Ringo looked like he would be fun and sweet to be around. Plus, he always seemed like the underdog of the group, and I am a sucker for a guy who knows what it's like to have missed out on being the most popular. Although Ringo never seemed to mind. From my perspective, he was enjoying the ride, content not to be the one who wrote the most songs or got the most girls.
I think what sealed it for me was seeing the movie "Help." Twice. Between shows, my older siblings phoned my parents and asked if we could watch it again. A quiet afternoon without five kids, and only the baby* to watch? Sure, go for it.
In fact, I believe it's time to watch "Help" again. It really was Ringo's movie to Starr in.** And today is his birthday. So, Happy 78th Birthday, Richard Starkey! May you happily live many more.
Ya, Ya, Ya!
*Sorry to my little brother, Paul who missed seeing it. But thanks to the miracle of DVD and streaming video, you can watch it all you want. And being the youngest is now a very good thing, indeed.
**Let ye who would not have made this pun cast the first stone.
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