I was there! Ringo’s last gig in Oregon at least, 

given his age – 82. Human nature to want to get in

on historic events, whether it’s a moon landing, or 

a cataclysmic earthquake in San Francisco. A little of the largess

and grandeur rubs off. Maybe we weren’t exactly in Dallas

when JFK’s sniper took aim, or at the Boston marathon

when the Russian brothers took out the innocents, but

marking tragedies and rock concerts with zealous proximity

helps our influence, earned or not. Social psychologists

call this the authority of the speaker, and Ringo’s farewell

upped mine. People flew in from all over the state

to hear him drum, savor the Beattles’ legacy one last time.

My friend the uber driver picked up airport riders 

for the jammed outdoor amphitheater all afternoon.

I heard the throbbing music eight miles away, my bedroom 

window in sympathetic reverberation — I wanna hold 

your haaaaaaaaaand — until the final cymbal crash of this 

ubiquitous British history. I was at Queen Elizabeth’s 

coronation too. Just four, living in Swindon near an American 

base, my urologist father assigned to treat VD when soldiers

got in trouble out in the field. That was before Ringo,

but some things don’t change, human nature what it is.

The Safeway in Bend, Oregon is where I shop, although

I missed the shooter whose deadly rampage ended 

when the vegetable man tried to take him out. Poor guy.

I stock up on mushrooms and broccoli, grateful

for armed guards at the door. It’s a shame we can’t 

go about business as usual. Nothing is usual anymore. 

I plan to see the latest zombie movie, Herd. It won’t bring 

the notoriety of Barbie’s opening, but hey, I’ll be there.

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Carol Barrett has published three volumes of poetry, most recently READING WIND, and one of creative nonfiction, PANSIES. An NEA Fellow in Poetry, Carol currently supervises creative dissertations for both Antioch and Saybrook Universities. She has lived in nine states and in England.