Do You Want to Know a Secret (part 2 - by Margaret Ullrich)

The week before Easter, we were in Nadia’s bedroom. That room was a shrine to all things holy. The walls were plastered with pictures of John, Paul, George, Ringo, angels, saints, Mary and Jesus. If we'd had incense and candles we could have registered it as a church. While we listened to the Beatles, Nadia ironed my hair and chattered. “This is so-o-o-o cool! They’re comin’ ta Queens! If they was goin’ ta Madison Square Garden, I’d never get ta see Paul.”

Corona was a stop on the IRT train which ran from Flushing, Queens to Times Square in Manhattan. I had ridden it dozens of times when I went shopping in Manhattan with my Ma. So I told Nadia, “Manhattan’s not so far away. Next time you leave my house, just stay on the train to the end of the line and you’ll be there.”

Nadia sighed. Uncle Des and Aunt Betty had simple needs. Uncle Des owned a small deli in Corona. He worked long hours, six days a week and wanted to sleep whenever he could. Aunt Betty was happy to spend her days visiting with neighbours and relatives. Except for an occasional big event movie, Nadia’s entire world consisted of what she could see in Corona. “Yeah, well, Mom don't want me ta go outta Queens. So, ya got the money or what?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Oh fer cryin’ out loud. Just ask yer Pop!”

Nadia thought my Pop could be reasonable, like her Dad. Pop ran a tighter financial household than Uncle Des did. If it wasn’t up there with warm clothes, oil for the furnace, food and water, Pop didn’t want to hear about it. Pop thought the radio and the weekly Ed Sullivan show gave us all the musical exposure we needed. I tried to explain. “Pop thinks hearing the Beatles on the radio is enough.”

As soon as she heard the sacred name, Nadia was off again. “Madonna! I’m gonna see Paul! Live! In person! I gotta see him! And ya gotta see George! We’re gonna marry them!!”
I screamed. “Watch it! You burned my ear!”
“Sorry.” Nadia stopped to check if there was any permanent damage. When she saw I wasn’t actually on fire she pressed on, all the while trying to think of a way for me to get the money. Nadia liked History, at least the gory parts. By the time we’d heard one side of the album, she had a plan. “Hey! Yer still a British wha-cha-ma-call-it, right?”

As far as Uncle Sam was concerned, I had been a guest in America since I was three months old. Pop thought that filling out an alien registration card, which could be mailed postage-free every January, was a better bargain than paying ten dollars to make me an American citizen. I was a girl without a country. Since I didn’t have my papers in order, Pop could also threatened to send me back to Malta whenever I acted too American. Uncle Des thought Pop was being cheap. But, then again, what else was new.

“A British subject. Why?”
“Tell yer Pop the Queen said all British subjects hafta see the Beatles. An’ if ya don’t, she’ll chop yer head off.”
“My head . . . off.”
“Yeah. An’ put it on a stick. They do that, ya know.”
“Not anymore.”
“Ya sure?”
“Oh, yeah.” My neck was so sore, I wished the Queen would chop my head off. “Are you done yet?”

Do You Want to Know a Secret (part 1 - by Margaret Ullrich)

In exchange for straight hair, I agreed to escort my cousin Nadia to a Beatles’ concert and to marry a Beatle, George Harrison.

If I had been born ten years earlier I would never have had such a problem. But there I was, a fourteen-year-old stuck with naturally curly hair in 1964. Thanks to the Beatles, long, straight hair was in style. My black curls were the envy of all my mother’s friends, but I was a fashion misfit in High School. Once I almost set my head on fire when I tried to iron my hair myself. When I asked my Ma to iron my hair, she shot me The Look and said I was crazy. I had no other choice but to ask my sixteen-year-old cousin, Nadia, to do the deed. She was the only one who would understand.

Nadia had a major problem of her own. She had to marry Paul McCartney, the cute Beatle.

Nadia’s problem started when she had said she wanted to marry a boy with a cute accent. She had accepted her fate: to stay in Corona, get married and have babies. She knew she was expected to follow in her Mom’s Sicilian footsteps. She just wanted to march to a cute accent. When she saw the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, she said Paul looked as cute as he sounded and she was going to marry him.

But, how would a girl in Queens meet a Beatle? Nadia knew that if her parents had their way, they would have chosen a local Corona boy instead of an English rock star to become their son-in-law. Then Nadia had a dream. She was at a concert, her eyes met Paul’s, she zapped him with a psychic message and he became her love slave. When Nadia heard that the Beatles were going to have a concert in Shea Stadium she said it was a sign from God. So, she decided she had to go to the Shea concert and grab the bull - I mean, the Beatle - by the horns. Not mentioning her dream, Nadia asked her parents for ticket money for the Beatles’ Shea Stadium concert.

Uncle Des and Aunt Betty agreed to give Nadia the money. But there was a small catch. Nadia had to go with a relative. None of the Aunts or Uncles was interested. I was the only cousin Nadia had who was near her age and easy for her to control. Uncle Des also thought I was the perfect relative for his daughter to ask. He knew that his brother Peter, my Pop, would never waste money on a rock concert. So he thought that he didn’t have to worry about Nadia going to any Beatles’ concert. It wasn’t his fault if his brother was cheap.

When I told Nadia I didn’t have any money for a ticket, she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. If I swore I would get the money and escort her, she would straighten my hair. When I stalled, Nadia threw in an extra incentive. After she and Paul got engaged, she would work her magic on George Harrison so he would propose to me. Since I was stuck at an all-girl high school run by Dominican nuns, boys were a rare commodity. The way we saw it, it was either George or the convent for me.

I had my doubts about Nadia’s psychic powers, but I did need someone to iron my hair. If she could snag me a husband, it was a bonus. I swore I would get the money.