On a Friday night, around four thirty, we rushed into the car to get to our grandparents house before we had to go to bed because the ride took two and a half hours.


“ Brendan, hurry up, we are going to be late!” My dad said, waiting impatiently for me to get into the car. “ I’m going as fast as I can.” I replied getting my bags ready. “Well it isn’t fast enough.” Barked my dad as he closed the door on me and left me there.


I could have said a couple of things to my dad right there, but I felt it wouldn’t be my smartest decision because of the trouble I could get in.


Walking to the car, I could easily hear the Beatles music buzzing and making the whole car shake. It was as easy as listening to crickets at night when nothing else makes a sound. When I got into the car, my dad sang (terribly, but nobody ever said something) the song “ Can’t buy me love” one of his favorites and one of my least favorites. Every time I heard the song I wanted to chuck a baseball at the radio.



“ Dad, do you think you could lower the music down?” I asked, hoping he could just turn it off. But, he continued to sing. “ Can’t buy me love, love, no no no, no!” “ Dad!”


He never stopped singing. He sang because he knew I felt mad already, and he knew I hated the Beatles, so he wanted to have some fun with me, which I obviously didn’t like. The rest of that car ride had a lot of anger, mostly from me. I was furious at my dad with his singing in the car. Although it was about a stupid thing, our argument made me unbelievably angry with him. I wanted to never see him again for the rest of my life.


On some days, my dad made me rake leaves instead of going to a friend’s house. On others, he took my brother and me to something like a football game to have a fun time. Our relationship has either been as high as the top of a mountain or as low as the center of the earth. One thing that kept our relationship digging through the ground of the earth: The Beatles. My dad listened to the Beatles all the time, including car rides, when we had parties and just on a normal summer day by our pool. Wherever I went I could hear the Beatles torturing me with their music. As this happened, it made me not like the Beatles even more after they weren’t my favorite band.


After the incident in the car, whenever I heard the Beatles, it reminded me of that horrific day when we had our argument. So, I truly started to hate the Beatles.


Although, over the years as I continued to listen to the Beatles more and more (since it was around me all the time) their music changed from the music I couldn’t stand. I realized how they weren’t as terrible as I thought they were. It changed from walking out of the room when they were on, to staying in the room just listening to it.


Another Friday night, my dad and mom went out to dinner and my dad had just informed me on whom the baby-sitter was that night.



“ Dad, why do I have to baby-sit the girls?” I asked with anger. I knew there wasn’t a big chance of him getting another baby-sitter, but I felt too angry. “ Brendan, it is much easier for us to have you just watch them.” My dad replied. He looked like he really didn’t want to start an argument. “ They are so loud and I will never be able to study!” If I tried to study, I would learn about what I needed to learn and what the girls were talking about. “ Then tell them to be quiet!” My dad boomed, his voice echoed through the entire house. “ They don’t listen to me!” I yelled back. “Then make them listen, you are baby-sitting and that is FINAL!” He finished. I thought his face was going to explode, it was so red.


He left the house without saying another word. I felt so irritated with him. He didn’t listen to me or help me with my situation at all. Today, I know we could have handled the situation better, and I am happy to know that we can avoid arguing that much now.


The next morning I awoke to loud music coming from the basement. Knowing it was dad listening to the Beatles- Who else would be listening to the Beatles at eight in the morning?- I got up and headed towards the basement. Once I saw dad on the Stairmaster listening to ‘Help’, I began singing the song. It startled him as he quickly turned his head to see who had joined him in the basement, but once he saw me and saw me singing, he joined in. We sang, badly, but still singing together. We didn’t care if we woke every one else up, all we cared about was the fact that we knew we both felt sorry with each other and we both forgave each other. The feeling of us staying great friends is one of the best feelings ever. When you know that after a big argument, you can still maintain a friendship, is definitely an amazing thing.


Looking back on that day, I realized how some little things in a relationship can keep them strong and help them continue after a terrible event. My dad and I have had some nasty arguments and situations, but we always tend to keep our friendship because of the Beatles. Their music reminds us of all of the good things we have done together and how unbelievable our relationship is.


To this day, we know we can have disagreements, but we also know that we can still be awesome friends. And, as Ringo Starr has said many times, “ I get by with a little help from my friends!”