This whole nostalgia thing is getting pretty old to me

Emmitt B. Feldner  for The Review

It’s getting to the point where anniversaries of significant events serve no other purpose for me than to prove once again just how old I am.

And those are the kind of reminders I don’t need more of – just getting out of bed in the morning is all the reminder or proof I need.

One such occasion is less than two weeks away – the 50th anniversary of the first appearance by The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show.

That’s 50 years, as in half a century, and I was around when it happened.

I wish I could say I was there when it happened, but I was still in grade school and nowhere near old enough to go to a television show in New York City on a school night.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t swept up in the rampant Beatle-mania of the time – like lots of others, I listened to minute-by-minute, playby play reports of the Fab Four’s comings and goings from the time they landed at JFK Airport until they finally left the Big Apple on the New York radio stations.

And of course, I didn’t miss them when they appeared on Ed’s “really big shew” Sunday night.

My four siblings and I still owe our mother big time for being able to watch that historic show, along with some 73 million other Americans.

We never watched Ed Sullivan in our house, because it was on opposite Bonanza, which happened to be our mother’s favorite, can’tmiss program.

Being the days of only one television in the house and no such thing as DVRs, TIVO or any kind of video recording device, we had a real standoff on our hands.

I can’t remember what kind of outlandish promises we made her to try and get her to give up the Cartwrights for just one week, but I suspect if we’d lived up to what we promised, we’d all still be doing dishes, cleaning our rooms and doing countless other chores still this year.

Needless to say, the five of us didn’t come anywhere near living up to whatever our end of the bargain was that we worked out with mom, but she did graciously cede us the set for the hour.

I’m not sure, but I think our parents went upstairs to their bedroom and put in earplugs when the show started, so they wouldn’t be subjected to it.

Actually, The Beatles were on Sullivan three Sundays in a row, and we watched them all three weeks, so I know we still haven’t paid my mother back yet for her sacrifice.

She’s been gone for more than 13 years now, but I’m sure mom is still patiently waiting for each and every one of the five of us to show and finally do all those things we promised for her 50 years ago.

I know she hasn’t forgotten, even if it has been half a century.

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