Mary Morony, Author of Apron Strings, Done Growed Up and If It Ain't One Thing

Hold Your Hand

hold your handHolding her hands over her ears for effect, Ginny complained, “I swear if I hear that whiny ‘I want to hold your hand’ one more time, I might lose my mind,”

“So, if I got tickets you wouldn’t want to go?” Joe asked.

“Tickets? To what?” she asked, cocking her head in interest.

“The Beatles concert at the Washington Coliseum next week,” he explained.

“Oh, no!” Ginny screwed her face up like she smelled something bad. “Because why?”

“I thought I would take the kids. Stuart is planning to go to their concert at Carnegie Hall.“ He chuckled, “I thought they would get a kick out of it especially getting the jump on their older sister.” He gave her a silly smirk, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want. I just thought maybe, just in case you did, I would ask.”

“You are serious?” She looked at the man as if his head was missing.”The Beatles, as much as I’d love to—”

“Yeah, I thought we could drive up, go to the concert, spend the night and then come back the next day. Do something fun and different.” He shrugged.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” She laughed and started humming I Want to Hold Your Hand. He shook his head grinning.

While the parents were chatting, Helen and Sallee were in their  bedroom debating the merits of being married to Paul and George. “I think he’s the dreamiest.” Sallee cooed. “I love his sad, hangdog eyes. Don’t you?”

“Paul’s cute,” Helen agreed, ” but, I think I like George better. The way his ears stick out just so and his cute little smile, I just love those things.”

“They are going to be on TV soon. I can’t wait to see them.” Sallee gave an excited little hop, “It would be especially cool if we could go up to New York and see them? I bet Stuart is going.”

“Yeah, maybe so. But I’m not sure I would like it because of all of the screaming.”

Sallee shook her head, amazed at her little sister. It’s the Beatles who the heck cares about the noise! She thought. “So, you wouldn’t want to go? Because of the screaming. Are you nuts?”

Ignoring older sister’s question, Helen continued describing her fantasy: “When George and I get married, we’re going to live in a huge house way out in the country so all his screaming fans won’t be able to find us.”

Later, the whole family sat down for lunch. Their father asked, “Have any of you heard of this new group called the um, uh, the Beats, I think? They’re from England.” To hide his grin, he took a big spoonful of Ethel’s very hot vegetable soup, consequently burning his mouth.

Over four bowls of soup, eyes rolled. Ginny just suppressed a tut, while Gordy stopped blowing on his soup long enough to correct his father, “It’s The Beatles, Dad.” The dad dripped with condemnation as if to say could you be more stupid?

“Since I don’t know who they are,” he grinned at Gordy, “I was thinking I might take your mother to their concert in Washington.” Joe deadpanned. “Lately, it’s all anyone is talking about.”

Three slack-jawed, incredulous children looked at each other sharing the same thought. What a horribly tragic waste!

Gordy finally croaked, “but—she—doesn’t—even—” before giving up in almost abject despair.

With a big smile, Joe asked, “so, I wouldn’t imagine you guys would want to come?”

Helen opened her mouth with a  scream. And she  didn’t stop as she jumped out of her chair and hopped up and down like a crazed jackrabbit hands flailing in front of her. Ethel scurried into the room to see what was the matter.

“We’re going to see the Beatles,” the child continued to shriek bouncing like a rubber ball. Sallee and Gordy joined in. “We’re going to see the Beatles!”

Ginny looked at Joe and crossed her eyes.


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