It was 20 years ago today.
Well, not exactly today. But indeed it was 20 years ago that Paul McCartney graced the Winnipeg stage. Yet it seems like only yesterday he last played our city.
It was long enough ago that I was still young enough to know I had my whole life ahead of me, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, optimistic for what the future would bring. I was already enrolled for college that fall, where a two-year communications program would eventually lead to an awesome career in the music business myself. I can’t help but wonder if all those concerts back then subconsciously played into the path I would eventually choose.
Or the path that chose me.
I remember sitting in row 18 back then, enamoured by the presence of Paul, and the enormity of the moment. The songs were familiar, many I’d first heard through my nine older siblings. Then when I fell in love with The Beatles in my early 20’s, the songs became my own.
Back then, once you were at the concert, there were no cell phones to text your friends on the other side of the stadium. You had no idea where anyone else was. But really, you didn’t care. The only people who mattered were the ones sitting right beside you. And the ones on stage.
I was with my friend Cathy at that time. She loved The Beatles even more than me, and in fact, played a big part in what would become my own obsession with the Fab Four. We were young, carefree, and moved to tears by having him merely a few meters away. We could hardly contain ourselves, and in that moment, totally understood what Beatlemania was all about. For us, seeing Paul McCartney live was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Destined to happen twice.
Skip ahead to 2013… once again I was with Cathy for a pre-concert get together. The tradition just had to be continued. We were a little older, a little wiser, a little heavier, and a little more wrinkled than the last time we saw Paul McCartney play. But we loved the music just the same. Probably even more.
We went to the stadium together, parting ways once inside, each going to our own seats. I knew exactly where mine were… down down down to the floor, and then up up up close and closer to the stage. As I counted down the number of rows, the stage loomed larger and larger. I could not believe where I was seated! This time, I was in row 16. Two rows closer. Twenty years older.
Thirty minutes to show time!
I got to know my neighbours, apologizing in advance for the fact I wouldn’t be sitting down for the next three hours. As I greeted my friend Jo from Calgary, who would be my cohort for the evening, the anticipation was tremendous. It was hard to believe that Paul McCartney would be standing right in front of us (speaking words of wisdom?!) in mere moments.
Next thing we knew, there he was!! So up close and personal. The one and only SIR PAUL MCCARTNEY! As he kicked the night off with Eight Days A Week, we jumped to our feet. True to my word, I never sat down for the rest of the night. How I wished we could spend the next eight days being entertained by him.
While I had no idea where Cathy was, I was certain she was loving it as much as I was. This time, though, I could text her. “OMG!” was all I could manage. I didn’t have to say anything else. I knew she’d know exactly what I meant.
Yes, times were different now, but the music was the same. Timeless songs, words we all know. Songs we could sing along to. And cry with. And laugh about. Each song containing its own memory for every single one of the 32,000+ people in the crowd.
While I ‘discovered’ The Beatles’ in my 20’s, I vividly remember listening to Paul McCartney and Wings when I was young. My family would spend summer days at Miami Beach, Manitoba. It was where I learned to swim, met my first city friend, and heard Wings’ songs for the first time.
On one side of the beach was a little boardwalk and canteen shack. Right beside it was a speaker situated high up on a pole, from which tinny-sounding music would blast all day long while we played and swam. It seems like only yesterday we were there.
I recall feeling the hot grainy sand on my dirty little feet, searching between the slats in the wooden boardwalk to see what treasures might be found. I remember the smell of French fries and vinegar, the taste of sticky fun-dip and warm Kraft caramels, and the sounds of Silly Love Songs and Band On The Run resonating through the hot summer air.
To this day, those memories are some of the strongest ones I have from my childhood, and I’m certain it’s because of the music. Music just seems to make memories more meaningful and everlasting. While I don’t have the greatest memory on the best of days, all I have to do is hear those songs and I’m instantly transported back in time to those carefree sunny days at the beach.
Today, that exact same music stands the test of time, and it’s just as absolutely awesome as it was 20 years ago, when I was a young adult starting out in the world. And another 20 years before that, when I was a little girl at Miami Beach. I hope it will still be there 20 years from now, and that I’ll still be here, too.
Watching Paul McCartney play again was pretty profound. It’s like we’ve all gotten older, but he has not. The last time we were in his presence, I was a young woman. Now I’m middle-aged. Next time, if there is a next time, I’ll be even older. In fact, 20 years from now, I’ll be just over 64, and I hope I’ll still be needed. Just like Paul sings.
Afterwards, on the bus ride home, I sat with four young ladies. They told me they drove all day, coming in from Thunder Bay just to see Paul. They were 25 years old – the exact age I was when Paul last played here. Profound indeed.
As they sat there with noses to the phone, texting and tweeting, barely talking to each other, I wondered where they were in their young lives. What paths were they on? Were they enrolled in college? Were they starting a career? Where would they be 20 years from now?
I also wondered what they thought of the evening, and being in the presence of music’s most prolific living legend. Did they like his songs as much as I did? Did they know the words and sing along? Did it mean the same to them as it did to me?
I’m sure it meant as much to them as it did to me 20 years ago, when I was their age. The main difference is that they’ll probably never get a second chance to see Paul when they become middle-aged women. Like I did.
I wondered if they realized just how precious this concert really was. Just how special being 25 is. Just how quickly the next 20 years will pass.
Yet still seem like yesterday.
