It was a sunny Sunday afternoon. Perfect temperature, gentle breeze, partly cloudy... I went over to pick up my steady girlfriend, Carolyn. We planned a drive around at the lake, or so we told her parents. He mother was most insistent that I get Carolyn home by six PM! "Tomorrow is a school day and Carolyn still has work to do!"
"Yes, ma'am. I'll have her home by six", as her father stared at me from the front door. Carolyn and I drove around Lake Austin for a while, then found a favorite place, parked and got in the back seat. Let me spare you the details because you already know this part... No, not too far, but being sixteen was so much fun!

Being the gentleman that I am (was, whatever), I had her home a few minutes BEFORE six. Her father acted surprised as her mother said, "Oh, Carolyn, I'm so glad y'all are home. Ed Sullivan has this funny looking group on tonight. They have long hair, dressed in funny suits, and I think they are from some other country, I can't remember. But, they seem to be the latest thing." We sat down on the couch...

A half hour later, Ed Sullivan, enthusiastically, "Ladies and gentlemen, the Be-atles!" His audience went nuts. Screamed the whole time. I think the Beatles did two songs, but whatever it was, it ushered in the rest of my life.

My parents were both small town; country girl, farm boy from Texas. They met during WW II near Washington, married, returned to Texas after the war. Like so many, had abandoned the country life in favor of the city. The city was Austin. I was true to my boots, the hats, the snap-shirts and music by Hank Williams and Roy Acuff...

But, the Beatles changed everything. Not overnight, but pretty fast considering the generations of country folk from which I came. Hair got longer, boots disappeared, snap shirts back of the closet. Albums by the Victrola: Beatles, Stones, Animals, Beach Boys, Four Tops, etc. A summer later, guitar lessons, a few months later, in my first local R&R band, a year later, my 2nd R&R band, dropped out of school, smoked some... you know.

Not sure if where I was living with the band had anything to do with it, but I realized that I had struck a wrong chord. Suddenly, the music which had taken over was a wall between me and all I had known and loved. I was too old to move home, so I moved in with some guys I worked with and went back to high school.

Music continued as a major part of my life. It was the 60's. There were lots of "amateur" musicians who played guitar whether they (we, I) were very good or not, just sing a Joan Baez or Bob Dylan protest song and a relationship started. These were called "Love-Ins"...

Still not a good student, and the draft at my door, avoiding the draft, I joined the Navy. Had occasions to play and sing at base "talent shows", so music stayed in my life and applause was still a rush. That addiction has no cure!

Finished the Navy, finished college, got a non-music job in New York City. I found Central Park to be a wonderful place to meet non-professional performers like me. Great Sunday afternoons there. And, played amateur nights at pubs like "Catch A Rising Star" on 1st Ave. Nobody ever caught me. Nobody ever tried...

I often sat in my second-floor apartment back window and practiced, the sound bouncing off the adjacent brownstones was better than the shower! A young woman who lived two floors above listened often. Did she ever tip? Buy dinner? Wine? Of course not. Years later, we married. She still controls the jar!

Years rolled by, children arrived, I lost my hair. Life moved on, but love of music never left. Then came karaoke bars. Whenever, wherever! To perform, to sing, to feel the music, to hear applause; life is good! At an open mic one night, I met a group called, "The American Idles". Note the spelling. All retired men and women who would sing karaoke at local rest homes. They asked me to join them.

I did not ask for a contract. If you like to sing, a rest home is a great place; once those wheel chairs are locked down, the audience can't leave. It's perfect. Seriously, when you sing a song that brings somebody a special memory, you see the look, sometimes the tear, sometimes the smile, sometimes they sing or shout - and that is all the applause I need.

At this age, nearing the last performance of my life, I thank God for the music which was shared with me, which inspired me, which entertained me for this lifetime. I was never rich or famous, nobody ever threw their underwear on my stage, but I danced, we danced, I sang, we sang, and the memories remain in my head as "Golden Oldies" moments. Here's to Carolyn, her mom and dad, and our special evening with the Beatles!

Encore ("Epilogue" is the usual label for a writer's final comment, but Encore seems more in tune here...)

My most memorable performance was at the Enlisted Club at our Navy Base in the Philippines, 1971. The place was packed with fellow Sailors and Marines and lots of lovely Filipino girls (Filipinas) who were paid to talk to us, dance with us, drink expensive drinks and laugh at our jokes.

One evening, the club manager announced a contest. The band would play a song of any contestant singer's choice and the room would decide the winner. Five could sign up. I was maybe 2nd. I sang Joe Cocker's rendition of Ringo's "I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends". I put everything I had into it, including Cocker's spaz moves on that Woodstock stage. The band gave me all they had. It was great!

Contest over, the manager said, "Time to vote" and most of the room yelled my name. He said, "You're saying no vote, just Marcus?" The crowd made it clear. I tasted real stardom for that brief moment. It has lasted for over half a century.

My directions for my funeral include lots of music. Some country, some rock, It starts with "In My Life" by the Beatles and ends with, "I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends", Cocker style. I hope that Ringo and Joe meet me someday on the other side with a "You killed it!"