Eight Days A Week – Part 1
Back in the day when I was in high school, the Beatles came out with still another hit song titled Eight Days A Week. I recall being in a local diner with my school buddies one day after school. We were chowing on some burgers with grilled onions and sipping on cherry coke made at the fountain. Those burgers and cherry cokes back then sure were tastier than what is available nowadays!
Anyway, back to the point. Our waitress was a middle-aged woman, a wife who made extra family money at this diner. She was really good in the personality department. She didn't flinch around teenagers, no matter how ridiculous we so often behaved!
Well, I stuck a nickel in the jukebox selector on the wall by our booth and chose Eight Days A Week. As we listened our waitress came with our order. She smiled and slyly dropped the comment, "Eight days a week? There's only seven days in a week!"
She wasn't being an old fogey, dear friends. She knew full well it was simply a song, and the lack of sense was a matter of poetic license. The Beatles were singing their love for someone, proclaiming they loved her so much that it required an extra day each week to express their love.
After all, isn't "love" in reality incoherent and quixotic like that? Our waitress was simply relating to teenagers in a jovial manner, and we appreciated her for it. In fact she did such a splendid job of it that, though I cannot remember her name anymore, I can still see her face in my mind's eye.
Oh, dear! We're out of time today. We'll get back to this tale tomorrow. See you then!
To further research this issue, I direct you to my book Leviticus: Volume 3 of Heavenly Citizens in Earthly Shoes. For more info please visit these sites to purchase my books:
http://www.amazon.com/Randy-Green/e/B...
Anyway, back to the point. Our waitress was a middle-aged woman, a wife who made extra family money at this diner. She was really good in the personality department. She didn't flinch around teenagers, no matter how ridiculous we so often behaved!
Well, I stuck a nickel in the jukebox selector on the wall by our booth and chose Eight Days A Week. As we listened our waitress came with our order. She smiled and slyly dropped the comment, "Eight days a week? There's only seven days in a week!"
She wasn't being an old fogey, dear friends. She knew full well it was simply a song, and the lack of sense was a matter of poetic license. The Beatles were singing their love for someone, proclaiming they loved her so much that it required an extra day each week to express their love.
After all, isn't "love" in reality incoherent and quixotic like that? Our waitress was simply relating to teenagers in a jovial manner, and we appreciated her for it. In fact she did such a splendid job of it that, though I cannot remember her name anymore, I can still see her face in my mind's eye.
Oh, dear! We're out of time today. We'll get back to this tale tomorrow. See you then!
To further research this issue, I direct you to my book Leviticus: Volume 3 of Heavenly Citizens in Earthly Shoes. For more info please visit these sites to purchase my books:
http://www.amazon.com/Randy-Green/e/B...
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