Tomorrow Never Knows

I was looking for something to blog about this morning and spotted a book I had read years ago - The Beatles, the Bible, and Bodega Bay. The book is as quirky as the title. It's written by the former US manager of the Beatle's Apple Records, Ken Mansfield. Mansfield was - and even after the Beatles - a giant in the recording industry, associated with artists, such as the Beach Boys, Roy Orbison, James Taylor, Waylon Jennings, Glenn Campbell, and scores of others. In addition to his business relationship with the Beatles, he also became their friend: he was there when they performed their last live concert on the roof of Apple Records corporate headquarters in 1969.

In the 1980's, after many personal and spiritual struggles, he became a believer. In the late 1990's he was diagnosed with an incurable type of bone cancer; he wrote this book as a memoir of that time and his time with the Beatles. He was supposed to be dead by now, but he's alive and well at 81 years old. CBN interviewed him here.

Anyway, I picked up the book this morning looking for inspiration. I was thinking I would find something in the "Bible" part of the book, but instead I found a short story about John Lennon. It struck me because it reminded me that we never know when someone will be taken from us. We shouldn't take life for granted. We should value the precious time we have with one another. Mansfield recalls:

In 1976, I unexpectedly ran into John at Ringo's house in Beverly Hills. I had just finished producing Waylon Jennings' new album Are You Ready for the Country? for RCA Records, Nashville. Ringo, who was a big fan of Waylon's, had called and asked for an early listen. When I walked into the living room at Ringo's house, I was surprised to see John slouched moodily on the couch. Knowing what I know now, he must have really liked me that day because he had never been meaner. He was in L.A. for his last recording session for almost four years, playing piano on his composition "Cookin' (In the Kitchen of Love)" for Ringo's Atlantic album Rotogravure. No doubt he had dropped in to relax and be alone with his old friend and bandmate. I had unwittingly been cast as an intruder by Ringo's invitation that day. Anyway, I needed a lyric change approval from at least three of the Beatles on a female version of "Hey Jude" - which we retitled "Hey Dude" - that I had cut with Jessie Colter ("I'm not Lisa") for Capital Records.

I had bribed Ringo for his signature with a private, exclusive playback of Waylon's album.

I bribed Paul by sending him a pair of sunglasses from Rodeo Drive that he had seen in a fashion magazine.

I took advantage of John's mood and bribed him by leaving Ringo's house.

I never say him again.

Enjoy the people in your life.