This week’s New Yorker has a gorgeous piece on Paul McCartney, a Macca-in-twillight kind of thing, in consideration of his upcoming 65th birthday. It stretches across 10 pages but can’t escape the Beatles, of course. Then again, it seems like Sir Paul is at the point in his oldish-man life where he’s enjoying telling the stories again — which girlfriend he was riding in the car with when he wrote this song, the flush of pride he felt upon being complimented by John Lennon, a genuine sense of amazement at his own life’s events.
My favorite part is this:
McCartney had not gone three steps on the sidewalk when a burly young man with a military haircut lunged into his path and thrust something at him: a CD — “The Beatles 1” — along with a black marker. McCartney took them and opened the CD’s jewel case.
‘Put it to Lloyd,’ the man said.
McCartney signed the CD and handed it back. ‘There you go, mate,’ he said. Then, hands in his pockets, he resumed his walk.
The speed and violence with which the fan had accosted McCartney were jarring, and I remarked that the man could have been another Mark David Chapman.
‘Yeah, or it could have been Jesus, come to give a blessing,’ McCartney said. He added, ‘When your number’s up, it’s up.’ [via Citizen Mom]
RELATED: Two Sides Of Sgt. Pepper