“I’ve seen a lot, and I’ve participated in a lot. … That, and a dollar and a half, will buy you a cup of coffee.” — Ray Parsons

The holidays for me are bittersweet. They’re so busy that I can’t get around to enjoying them until they’re past. As my great-grandfather Clifford Hatfield missed his original family, I miss those who’ve passed me by.

Learics: John, Paul, George and Ringo began together, changed the world of pop music forever and blessed countless lives, then arced out apart on their own lives’ trajectories. Now they end together, in one final song.

What I’d give for one more jab in the arm.

Walter was like a concrete block with four legs. He had a bowling ball butt that he rested on people he liked, which was pretty much everyone. His rugged torso rumbled like a bass drum when you patted it.

Alaina started kindergarten this month — not only a critical rite of passage for her, but also for my wife Lauren and me. Somehow, we kept that little wrinkly blob — which has grown into the spirited, cheerful and insightful cherub she is now — alive and mostly out of trouble all these years.

Learics: Dad was a little bashful at times about singing with me, apologizing if he felt he was off key. Which was ironic, because I was honored to sing with him. As a child I’d hear him crooning in the bathroom, his smooth voice bolstered by the room’s acoustics, and I admired his ability. I hoped that when I grew up, we could sing together.