We all Live in a Yellow Submarine Metaphorically speaking. Thank you Beatles, I think.

As some of you have read previously, I am divesting myself of many years of clutter, both mine and that of my very dearly departed Max. Currently I am selling Max’s jeep (read previous post – see http://www.maxsjeep.info) plus an assortment of ordinary, bizarre and some very wonderful objets d’arts.  Among these are some Beatles memorabilia which I have dutifully posted on Ebay (where else?)  It is funny, about those objects we collect over the years. In retrospect, I wonder why either of us had collected these Beatles items.  Oh sure we liked the Beatles – and even agreed that John was our favorite, but neither of us were over the top “fans” per se, breakfast with the Beatles not withstanding.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA  So why really did we keep these things?  4 (Giant Yellow Submarine Postcards – 1968) were stuck in an envelope in the closet of our office http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=261513900769 and 2  (John Lennon’s In His Own Words – 1964 & Spaniard in the Works – 1965) in plastic ziplock bags hiding on a bookshelf, jammed between Shakespeare and Vonnegut (at least they were in good company).  When you look at what we collected you’ll undoubtedly be able to guess who collected what, with probably less than a second of consideration but I will quickly expose any mystery for those scratching their heads in confusion. I, being the more visual of the two of us, did in fact collect/keep/stash/hide the postcards – for what other reason, except the art of which they were was “of the psychedelic style of that period” … maybe too I had no idea what else to do with them.  Was I saving these to fund my future children’s education? No. Too late, because I found them hiding on the top shelf in the closet long after they had left school, and it is doubtful even today they are worth even a portion of a USA college tuition.  Maybe it was the lyrics of the Yellow Submarine song that these had reminded me of a better time and for this reason I hung on to these giant pieces of cardboard.  Except that as my comments which follow will explain, it is probably not the case.

In the town where I was born  (Los Angeles?) Lived a man who sailed to sea  (Maybe, but no one I knew at the time, however I, a nice Jewish girl from Encino, travelled to British Columbia and I did go Salmon fishing in the early seventies, for several years. Does that count?) And he told us of his life  (Anyone who really knows me has heard my fish tales … and my Perfect Storm years, barfing at sea, ad nauseum.) In the land of submarines (thankfully I was above the water, below is just fine for fish and kelp and Jules Verne, etc) So we sailed up to the sun  (We did fish up to the Dixon Entrance/Alaska, midnight sun and all.) Till we found the sea of green  (Most of the time it rained, even in the Summer. The land up there indeed was green, and often when the sea was choppy I looked plenty green – please refer to barfing at which time I did not for a moment consider the color of the sea.) And we lived beneath the waves  (please also refer back to “Perfect Storm”) In our yellow submarine  (actually the boat was blue and orange and it thankfully rode atop the water, mostly.) We all live in a yellow submarine  (thankfully I only did this for a couple years after which I kissed dry land and vowed to only go on cruise ships, if at all. ) Yellow submarine, yellow submarine  (blah,blah,blah) We all live in a yellow submarine – Yellow submarine, yellow submarine (ditto) And our friends are all on board  (There were only 2 of us, my then boyfriend Don and me & occasionally our dog, a lab named Cesar who didn’t like the water, so he stayed home whenever possible, lucky him.) Many more of them live next door (We had fishing buddies who met up with us at fish camps along the season and the neighborhood where we lived when on land was full of fishermen. Most of them were raging alcoholics. Fun.Whoopee. Not.) And the band begins to play (Only in my head and perhaps only today as I write because I am thankfully not at sea.) We all live in a yellow submarine – Yellow submarine, yellow submarine We all live in a yellow submarine – Yellow submarine, yellow submarine [Full speed ahead, Mr. Parker, full speed ahead! Full speed over here, sir! Action station! Action station! Aye, aye, sir, fire! Heaven! Heaven!] (Yes, many of my fishing buddies are now long gone, perhaps in Heaven, some may be raising a few pints with Max. L’chaim!) As we live a life of ease (A life of ease)  – (Really? Commercial fishing is never, really, a life of ease – don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.) Everyone of us (Everyone of us) has all we need (Has all we need)  (That line is true…when you’re at sea, fresh air, clean food, and nature is abundant – at least it was when I was fishing those many years ago- probably not so much now in the Pacific Ocean, thank you Fukishima. Oh god, am I waxing political? And today I do have all I require…except perhaps Max, who art in heaven.) Sky of blue (Sky of blue) and sea of green (Sea of green)  (Except when its stormy and its all grey and black wherever you look. Oy the memories of storms!) In our yellow (In our yellow) submarine (Submarine, ha, ha) (Easy for you & the Beatles to laugh, and go on about that infernal Yellow Submarine… you’re all stoned and sitting where its warm, dry and the sea below or around you ain’t churning. Then again I’m no longer regurgitating into the surging swells which is much for which to be thankful) We all live in a yellow submarine – Yellow submarine, yellow submarine….(Okay its all a metaphor, maybe you’ll have better luck with these silly cards!)  And now we can actually take a brief look at Max’s John Lennon Beatles stuff.
Hmmm. I can only venture a guess as to why Max saved John Lennon’s books, I vaguely remember reading them years ago, liking them and passing them on to friends.  They were written fifty years ago, during John’s (and Max’s) early years and though these are clever pieces of writing and doodling,  the grammar, spelling and punctuation probably would have sent Max into his English major’s tailspin. Max and I talked about a lot of stuff but the two of us never even discussed these books – I didn’t know he had them!  I listed “In His Own Write” at http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=261513964113 . I listed “A Spaniard in the Works” at http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=221474669837.    Maybe you’ll like em and you can tell me your ideas as to why Max hung onto them for so long.  I just now thought perhaps a seance to ask him why, but no, I have better questions to ask him should he decide to pop up.
But enough about selling stuff, I believe I’m writing this piece as a means of outer cleansing.  As to internal cleansing… I AM juicing. Lots of green vegetables, which I know are so good for me/you/everyone.  Gawd! Dontcha just love the metaphor in which we are living?  I’m so into this cleaning out the old in prep for embracing the new I could just sing… but not Yellow Submarine.  I’ll think of another ditty and let you know.  Maybe it will be “Release Me…”   Thanks for reading.

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