By “grew up with The Beatles,” I don’t mean she had super cool parents with super cool taste in music who let her jam to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band on an old hand-me-down record player.
That was me.
Neither do I mean she went through the typical Beatles phase in junior high and high school and tried to bribe her own mother to let her hang the four mint-condition photos from The White Album on her bedroom wall.
Again, that was me.
Thank God she said no.