“Talking to Linda McCaetney”
It was Paul’s first world tour since “Wings Over America.” I had multiple-city backstage passes, awesome seats, and a few of you joined me for the ride when Paul toured with his “Flowers in the Dirt” album back in 1989–90. The concert that rocked hardest: RFK Stadium in DC. The concert I will never forget: Madison Square Garden in NYC. Afterwards, my friend and I were able to hang backstage. I just missed meeting Paul, who left pretty quickly after the show, but Linda was there, and we spoke. I told her we have at least three things in common: We’re both descendents of Russian Jews (her dad’s family was Jewish and had come here from Russia), we’re both vegetarians, and we both feel passionate about the music of Paul and Linda. She laughed, and asked me what I do. I told her I had been a Peace Corps Volunteer, I was now on the research faculty of U. of Maryland and was hopefully about to become a Foreign Service Officer with USAID. She was so gracious, and asked a lot of questions about my Peace Corps years. She had read extensively about the People’s Power Revolution in the Philippines. There was so much I wanted to ask her but wasn’t sure how to redirect the conversation back to her. I did manage to sneak in a mention of the song “That Day Is Done” which made me wistful for those years. I realized there were others patiently waiting to talk to her too, and I told her how honored I was to meet her. When I say she was gracious, keep in mind that, minutes earlier, she and Paul had basically brought NYC to its knees.
As a great fellow traveler of Paul’s once said, “Tomorrow never knows.” Nobody knew, on that giddy, fizzy evening that Linda was six years away from being diagnosed with breast cancer. Nobody knew that she had less than a decade left to live. And very few appreciated, back in 1989, the legacy Linda would leave, including four amazing children, some of the most original, intimate and important photographs of rock’s own history, her impact on the animal rights and vegetarian movements, and her music as a session woman for a lad from Liverpool by the name of Paul.
I knew my friend was bummed that we had failed to meet Paul. But I took a moment that night to consider not only Linda’s greatness (against all odds, being a woman in that era and being Paul’s wife) but also her goodness as a caring person, so eager to hear from a stranger about his Peace Corps years just minutes after blowing away the USA’s largest city and cultural capital. My response to my friend was serious and firm: “I’m grateful that it’s Linda we met instead.” After hearing “That Day Is Done” on the radio earlier today, and thinking about Linda, I’m still grateful for her life, and I’m reminded of perhaps the greatest lesson I’ve learned in my own life: To live one day at a time.
