Our Paul, with his big-eyed innocence and teddy-bear demeanor, made this 15 year-old's heart beat double-time. How impatient I became as Sullivan's cameras zoomed in for closeups... wanting to see them all but most eagerly hoping for another glimpse at Macca's image.

He wasn't "Macca" back then. He was "Our Paul"... derived from a comment made by his father. Though this was British way of describing a family member - usually a son or daughter - he soon became "Our Paul", too.

Time passages that wrought separation of the Beatles also brought the occasional comment from friends - a loss of interest in Paul and his music. Not me - I still appreciate his ability to stretch, grow and experiment.

I loved the Oratorio, and silently applauded Paul -- who opted for his own desire for musical growth. Surely he knew the risks of braving the snobs and cretins of the classical music world. True to form, they launched their poison spears; and by doing so, these self-appointed judges displayed ignorance at its finest. I believe Paul had no illusions about his own musicality -- he tried.... and succeeded -- in creating a muscially beautiful, touching view of his childhood world.

I felt extraordinarily defensive of Paul and wished I could turn and say to him "They just don't get it, do they?" Still, I'd bet he knows that.... he keeps on trying new things, and he doesn't appear afraid of what the morpheons (read: critics) of the world have to say in response.

In doing this, he delivers a message that is vital to me as both musician and parent - "Don't be afraid to try." Better yet, "Don't be afraid to risk failure in the eyes of the world.... learn what you can, and try some more. In doing that you'll always be a success in your own eyes. That's what really counts, when all is said and done."

There could be no finer gift or legacy to humanity than that simple lesson, I think.... a lesson that Paul delivers with faith and consistency.

Paul has been credited, nay, accused, of having developed a very stylishly warm persona for the cameras. This is true - he's eloquent; has been known to sidestep very neatly any deep personal questions, and delivers that "hey, I really like you, y'know, mate?" greeting to one and all.

What a struggle -- to be so very visible for so many years and maintain some semblance of a private life. I don't fault Paul for his almost-glib delivery, I commend him for it. I don't want to move into his house and live with his family. I want to hear what he has to say, musically and in prose, and enjoy him in the ways he evolves.

I attended his 1990 concert at Madison Square Garden (and got this great photo.) What a contrast from the adorable mop-top of the 1965 concert at the Baltimore Civic Center! His music and choice of old Beatles' tunes combined with his own later-day compositions was phenomenal, delivered with professionalism in fidelity of sound, equipment, lighting and choice of band mates.

Paul may sometimes BORDER on the "glib", but his delivery of live music never does. In this, I'm privileged to see the musically real" Our Paul"... heart, soul and mind bared for the public to see, hear and celebrate.

A surprise -- though he can still really rock (we were all up on our chairs for "Got To Get You Into My Life") - Paul has become the comfortable, old-shoe kind of middle-aged person; someone's husband, someone's Dad. Someone who protects the privacy and comfort of family, who makes those kind of jokes that elicit "Oh, Daaaaaaaaad....." and a rolling-eyed grimace from a teenage son or daughter. I loved it... and it seemed to deliver another valuable message.... that no matter what else there is in life, that having the love of your friends, family and your children makes you the biggest success of all.

I've grown up with Macca. Yeh, I call him that, too.

But deep inside my heart, he'll always remain "Our Paul."