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The walrus is Paul

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Contributed by: Julie Savoie on 8/16/2007

Like the "Fool on the Hill" Kenny Hubble, mostly known as "The Bone," for reasons unclear to me at the time, sat perched high up on his roof. That day, he was wearing only a beat up orange serape clutched at the throat, and swim trunks. This seemed about par for the course when it came to Kenny's wardrobe, actually. "He's dead, you know...the WALRUS IS PAUL," he cried passionately, and rose to his full 5'4" height for emphasis. I'd been making my way to Laurie's house via Clayton Street, and feeling remarkably chipper considering my recently acquired Prince Valliant haircut. Our Littleton subdivision was wobbling its way out of infancy. Each builder- installed ash tree courageously pressing on. A cheery little hamlet if there ever was one, ours.

The nerve of that faux- deviant Kenny, "The Bone" Hubble, to carry on like that-sucking the clean Colorado air out of my lungs, and sandpapering away the Beatlesque glow tenderly surrounding my purest of suburban hearts. He babbled on, with a complete lack of compassion. There was something about an "open hand" over Paul's head, and a connect-the -dot, hidden message leading to the shocking phrase, "3 Beatles." "...Play it backwards and it says turn me on dead man," he sagely advised. "Study the cover of Sgt. Pepper's if you don't believe me, there's a gazillion clues that prove it." An OPD, (officially pronounced dead,) patch stitched to my beloved Paul's sleeve? I nearly died myself, right there on the young cement sidewalk. Plus, my neck was killing me from looking up at the roof all that time.

Hadn't I suffered enough for my art? Did I not fling myself on the pyre of my unmade bed and sob for three days in 1964, prostrate with grief, having drawn the ultimate short straw? What kind of parents deny their 11 year old the once- in- a- lifetime chance to see the Beatles at Red Rocks for the low-low price of $6.09 plus tax. Chump-change is all that was. A couple of weeks of baby-sitting, tops. "Nice pre-teens from Littleton do NOT mingle with filthy hippies!" my mom firmly declared while toting her warm stack of folded towels through the living/dining area.

A denial designed to tragically separate me from my rightful soul- mate was how I saw it. A little bit Shakespearean on the drama scale if you really think about it. Shakespeare, now there was another English guy I had a crush on after seeing Romeo and Juliet at the Woodlawn Theater. Well, technically there is no way to have an actual crush on Wm. Shakespeare, but you can get all worked up over the kid playing Romeo, right? Anyway, Now the final blow had landed, THE WALRUS IS PAUL. "He blew his mind out in a car." It was simply not to be borne.

I sprinted up the hill as fast as my too-tight cutoffs permitted, and burst into Laurie's bedroom, where sniveling and gasping, I broke the cruelest of news.

"How many times have I told you to take Steele Street anyway?" she demanded. "The Bone" is a drip and a squirrel-bait, and you know it." She snatched a tissue from a box on the floor and thrust it at me. "Now what do you say we ride bikes to Walgreen's and have a look around in the cosmetics isle?"

Footnote: Fast forward to 2002. My generous and long-suffering husband popped for primo concert seats for the Paul McCartney "Back in the USA Tour." I wept uncontrollably through the entire set.

A quick newsflash to "The Bone," he ain't no stinkin' WALRUS.

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Julie Savoie

englewood , CO

Julie Savoie has posted 2 stories and 0 comments since joining on 8/16/2007. Julie Savoie 's average story rating is 0.

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