When I was a little girl, my favorite time of the day was right before dinner. My dad would be cooking in the kitchen, my mom would be on her way home, and the Beatles would be playing on the Bose in the living room. The house would smell like whatever delicious pasta or fish was cooking, and I would be dancing around to “Obla-di obla-da” and “Eight Days A Week.” I was usually singing along, albeit with the incorrect lyrics, and enjoying dancing around with my dad.  I grew up with a lot of great music in my life. My dad has a giant CD cabinet full of Mozart, Sinatra, Springsteen, etc. But I’ve always been partial to a good Beatles jam. They’ve got music for every mood, the perfect musical chameleons. So when my friend Lizzie texted me inviting me to the Paul McCartney concert at Fenway Park this past Monday night, the answer was obviously yes.

For those of you who have been living under a soundproof rock for the past fifty years or so, Paul McCartney is a living. freaking. legend. As one of four members of the Beatles, Sir Paul has sung countless types of music and influenced even more musicians.  Now, at the ripe semi-old age of 71, I wasn’t really sure what to expect from Paul. Elvis was sitting on the floor at concerts and stumbling over his words when he was in his thirties. A fair few rockstars burned brightly before joining the terrible “27-club.” Christina Aguilera screwed up the National Anthem at the Superbowl. I wasn’t sure how long the concert would go or how energetic and rockstar-esque he would still be.

Let me just say, glass ceiling: shattered. Expectations: exceeded. Mind: blown. Paul kicked off the concert with “Eight Days a Week,” and kept rocking for FOUR HOURS. He sang Beatles classics, songs dedicated to late wife Linda and current wife Nancy, and touching tributes to the late, great John Lennon and George Harrison. He played guitar, bass, and ukelele. There were super cool stories in which he referred to Jimi Hendrix and Eric Clapton as Jimi and Eric, because of course, he’s Paul McCartney and he met and rocked with them. He ended the concert with some light flames and fireworks. And then went on to do three encores. He asked if we all had to go home, and a sold-out Fenway Park screamed, “no,” to which Sir Paul replied, ‘I can go all night.’

It was a legendary, epic, incredible night. I’ve always dreamed of what it would be like to go back in time and see some of my idols in their prime. Luckily for me, Paul is more than alive and kicking. He’s around to educate all of us, and he shows no signs of leaving his prime. Thank you, Paul McCartney, for continuing to inspire.