I don’t know why, but when the Beatles went all mystical, especially John Lennon, I started associating them with Indian food. I’m surprised I didn’t try to write John about his favorite Indian recipes. As it was, I just listened over and over to everything they sold.

I was a late bloomer, naïve, and never quite sure of the meaning of some of their songs. Take “Norwegian Wood.” At the end, I’ve always wondered about the significance of “So I lit a fire. Isn’t it good, Norwegian wood?” Did the guy burn her furniture or just echo the girl’s comment when she first brought him home? Or was there an “in group” secret code that I wasn’t privy to?

When you’re insecure, it’s amazing how many aspects of your life such insecurity can affect. About the only thing I didn’t question was my ability to sing and act well. If it weren’t for those successes, who know where I’d be today. As it was, I denied those gifts for over two decades and other creative talents emerged to fill the void, including writing. Isn’t it good, Norwegian wood?