Beatles Italiano

When I look in the mirror I often gasp. Who is that and where did she come from? Graying temples, little crease lines around my lips. And then if we head south...let's not. In my mind I feel young. I have never been more comfortable with who I am or what I'm doing. But recently I was brought up short by a triple dose of generation gap-itis. One of my seventh graders asked me if the Beatles had come from Italy. I stopped dead in my tracks. Then I just turned slowly, walked to the window, and looked out over the street below. Is it possible that an entire generation (and I hold his parents responsible) will enter adulthood (however loosely we define that) not knowing the Beatles???? No Hey Jude, Revolution, Martha My Love, Here Comes the Sun?? NO HERE COMES THE SUN??? Can anything possibly fill that gap? It was a grim moment. I realized that not only am I waxing old and cracking as I do it, but the world I'm entering is peopled by short humans who will never know the 60's or Reagan or black and white TV or nickel ice cream cones or wearing dresses to school every day. And even though I can plaster my classroom walls with Beatles posters and teach poetry from a superb book called Beatles to Beowulf, it will just never be the same as turning on Ed Sullivan and watching America ape out as four mop tops direct from ENGLAND bounce around on a stage and change society as we knew it. And that is truly a sadness.