Admiration

Woody Allen was once asked what he wanted to be when he grew up and quipped, “Anyone but me.” Well, he could be self-deprecating. I’m not sure I was ever asked that question or wondered what I would do if I ever did grow up. I subscribed to the A.A. Milne theory of going wherever the wind took me and, balancing out a few gales and sudden squalls, I’m reasonably happy where the wind landed me.

If the question had been rephrased as “whom” would you want to be when you grew up, then I might have answered differently. There are some people I have admired over the years and, from a distance, I have fantasized about being them.

This all came to mind last night while Mrs. Laz and I were watching a concert put on by Paul McCartney in the Palace Square in St. Petersburg, Russia. I leaned over to Mrs. Laz and mentioned that it would have been fun to be Paul McCartney and that he seemed like a decent guy; again from a distance. Had Mrs. Laz been awake, she may have agreed with me. Although I do have to add this one point about Mr. McCartney: I have been told by a well-placed source that the speakers were blaring so loudly in St. Petersburg that the walls inside the great museum at the nearby Hermitage were shaking and, in some places, crumbling. I’ve heard of art imitating life, but never art destroying art.

OK, back to my fantasy life.

What’s not to like about Paul McCartney? He was my favorite Beatle and I think wrote their best songs, Hey Jude and Let it Be. With the song Yesterday, he changed early rock from dance songs to songs you just listened to. He appeared to be the most dedicated to keeping the Beatles together (although in the end, he was the first to leave) and was a savvy investor, buying up the rights to hundreds of songs. While he and his new wife have taken up the cause of eradicating land mines, he hasn’t been militant about it and has used his popularity as a musician to draw attention to what he believes is an important issue.

While Mrs. Laz was sleeping comfortably and I was bellowing out Back in the USSR, I began to wonder if I would rather be Paul Simon. Upon the chorus of ooo, ooo, ooo, Mrs. Laz was wishing I was Paul Simon too. Although I doubt she would have beat Paul Simon about the head and neck with a pillow. Anyway, I always thought Paul Simon was a pretty cool guy too, writing and performing really great music for 45 years. There is no way anyone can listen to any non-hip-hop radio station for a week and not hear Sound of Silence played. And while he was at his peak in the Sixties and Seventies, his recent song Father and Daughter is a good and sentimental song. If only I had a daughter, I would sing that song to her every night.

To understand the symmetry of the two, Paul Simon and Paul McCartney share a bit of trivia. They are the only two to have the lyrics coo-coo-ca-choo in one of their songs. And that’s, you know, kind of neat and takes up space.

A cynic may point to the fact that both Pauls are rich and famous and that is the lure. While the “rich” part may be the big draw for Mrs. Laz, I would just like to be able to walk down the street and hear people whisper, “there goes Paul Simon walking down the street.” Or, “Say, isn’t that Paul McCartney renting Showgirls at my Blockbuster?” Fame can be an aphrodisiac – which should come in handy if Mrs. Laz won’t wake up again – but these two have the full package and that’s what makes me admire them so much.

There are of course other people it would be fun to be, but I’m going to stick to my two choices. Others may be more important, wealthier, and perhaps even more famous, but can any of them say they played at Red Square or Central Park for more than one million people? Now that’s admiration.