Okay. Someone has to say it out loud. Paul McCartney cannot sing any more. Watching him perform (?) during the Opening Ceremonies at London 2012 was excruciating. He sang (so to speak) somewhere else recently. Again it was painful. And embarrassing. For him, for God sake! Is this how he wants to be remembered? Barely able to croak out a song? Off key? He has had a brilliant career. He is worth millions and millions. It’s time to pass the microphone. Really.
I can imagine (no pun intended) how difficult it must be when that realization finally sets in. “Yes, it’s true. I have lost my voice.” Whether it’s because of age, illness, booze, cigarettes, drugs, pollution, dust, damaged vocal cords or the Universe being cruel, one fact remains: His singing career is over.
Do something else. He can still be productive. Start a record label. Discover and develop talent. Write a book. Produce musicals. Become an entrepreneur. Travel simply for pleasure. Relax, spend money and have fun with that new, young wife.
Just please, exit gracefully.
When food is past its prime we toss it without a second thought. But we are reluctant to face this same reality about ourselves. We hang on to relationships that are really over, and have been over for years. We say it’s for the children. Does anyone really believe that it’s better for kids to live in an environment where their parents argue, slam doors, cry, ignore each other, cheat, lie and settle for less than any of them deserve?
We cling to hope when there is none and insist on keeping loved ones plugged into respirators long after they are brain dead. We tell ourselves it’s because we love Continue reading