All My Loving


One day, a boy named Jonathan brought the Beatles’ “Blue Album” to school and changed my life

(via purple clover) by Marisa Cohen

In 1977, I had the good luck to land in Mr. Rosen’s fifth-grade class in my Long Island elementary school. Mr. Rosen, who had a beard and a funny, nasal voice, was considered one of the few “cool” teachers at our school, which was otherwise staffed by middle-age women with starched hairdos and polyester pantsuits.

By far the coolest thing that Mr. Rosen did was let us bring in record albums from home to play during independent work time. At age 10, I was still woefully in the dark about good music: I listened to the cast album of “Annie” until it broke (remember when records cracked?) and had ordered some Barry Manilow and Boston albums from the Columbia Records Club account I shared with my brother (12 albums for 1 penny!), but my taste was as yet unformed.

One day, a boy named Jonathan brought in the Beatles’ “Blue Album” and it changed my life…

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