Tim’s first favorite Beatles song
was “Yellow Submarine”. The cartoonish
imagery of the song, pre-dating the 1968 movie, was easy to follow with Ringo
Starr’s monotone vocals. My 1994 Camry
had a tape deck and I bought the Beatles “1” album and when I would play it
when we went on trips to the mall, grocery store, the mountains, or shore; Tim
would sing along. Sometimes I would have
to rewind the cassette tape and play the song over and over at his
request.
As he grew older, I told him the
story of the Beatles. I had learned
their history and music from my grade school music teacher, Jane Ashworth, when
I was growing up in Ventnor. I explained
to Tim how John Lennon had just come out of self-seclusion after five years,
recorded Double Fantasy, and on December 8, 1980 was gunned down by Mark David
Chapman. I continued telling Tim how
Lennon influenced my writing, my thoughts about life, and learning to play the
guitar; I also confessed how I cried on December 9, 1980 for the loss of my
idol.
Tim picked up my love for the
Beatles music; he even listed it as one of his “Likes” on Facebook. As Tim became a teenager, he began to
influence me with his other tastes in music – Three Days Grace, the
All-American Rejects, There Might Be Giants, and Linkin Park. If a song caught his ear or mine I would
download it and burn it to CD. Often
times, I came home after a 4x12 shift to hear Tim’s stereo playing as he slept. I loved how he was discovering his own tastes
in music and was making his own mixes and playlists.
As my 45th birthday
approached in October, 2009, Tim bugged me for weeks if he could borrow
$200. When I asked him why he needed the
money, he would say something I had said to him: “I could tell you but I don’t
want to ruin the surprise.” He was very
tenacious about his goal of getting the money.
One afternoon, we were shopping in
Wal-Mart and Tim disappeared to his favorite section – Electronics and
Games. Soon he came to find me and he
was very excited.
“Daddy, I really want to borrow
that money!”
“For what,” I asked.
“Daddy please?”
I handed him my debit card. Tim told me not to follow him or peek. I promised I would stay put. Soon he was running back.
“Daddy I need your PIN.”
I gave him the numbers and he ran
back to the section.
An employee came up to me and told
me I was needed in Electronics. The
cashier wanted to know if I had given Tim my debit card. I told him I did and that Tim was my son. Tim stood with an embarrassed expression on
his face. His jacket was off and
covering a large rectangular box. When
he saw me he covered the box with his body.
“Don’t look Daddy. Don’t look.”
I turned away.
Tim came over and told me not to
turn around. He asked for the car keys
and that he had something to put in the car.
Soon he came back having put in the trunk whatever it was that he
purchased. Tim was grinning from ear to
ear as he walked towards me. I knew he
learned how to be crafty when it came to hiding presents or not letting me know
what he would get me or his mother as a gift.
When Tim was little, during our
treks to Toy R Us or Wal-Mart, if he found a toy and it was getting close to
Christmas I would tell him to scan it. I
told him it was the Santa Scanner and that the bar-code sent a message to the
North Pole and Santa or his helpers would use a world wide network to keep
track of some items that a little boy or girl had an interest, but may forget
when it came time to sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what was wanted for
Christmas. It was a game we
enjoyed. He had the fantasy of Santa
sitting at a computer and Tim’s name would pop up with a picture of a toy he
wanted. I could look at the read out and
see the price.
When we got home, Tim had me close
my eyes. He rounded up his sisters to
help him bring out the presents, having Charlotte
carry a smaller thin package as he had Alaina cover my eyes to ensure I didn’t
peek. Tim told me to open my eyes. He had Charlotte
and Alaina give me the smaller box. I
was instructed to unwrap it from the double tied black plastic bag.
“Sorry Daddy, I didn’t have any
gift wrap except Christmas paper.”
“Monk, no need to say sorry; this
is wonderful.” I pulled out a game
package from the bag.
The Beatles Rock Band game for the
Nintendo Wii; I flipped it over and read the liner notes on the back. On the cover the Beatles trademark logo with
the extended “T” and the Beatles running – a shot from their first movie A Hard
Day’s Night.
Tim came over with a double bagged
box. The girls helped me pull it from
the bags. It was a Fender Stratocaster
replica game controller.
“I tried to find the
Rickenbacker/John Lennon guitar and game, but everyone was sold out.” Tim sat next to his sisters. “Do you like it?”
“I love it Monk. Thank you!”
“What about me and Charlotte,
Daddy?” Alaina huffed.
“Yes. Thank you two also!”
Tim got up and ran to the
kitchen. He came in carrying a chocolate
cake with only a few candles lit atop.
He and my daughters sung “Happy Birthday”
and we ate chocolate cake. Afterwards we
played the game, listening to the music and seeing a history of the Beatles as
they evolved. We listened to how John
Lennon’s songs…and Paul McCartney’s lyrics matured with the sounds they
discovered and made into music.
It was one of my best
birthdays. Actually, it was the best
because my son wanted it to be special and shared the limelight that was his
with his sisters. I will never have another
birthday again that will come to mind such as my forty-fifth birthday.

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