In times like these, find comfort in the familiar
I remember riding around in the back seat of my Dad’s 1970 Ford Mustang. It would be a Friday or Saturday night, and often my brother Jeff and I would be involved in parental dates – sometimes my parents’ “dates” consisted of driving us around for hours, because they couldn’t afford a babysitter. That was the start of how I came to love the Beatles. We would listen to their albums on 8-track, driving around and all singing the whole…