When I was little, my siblings and I played Beatles.

We'd use tennis rackets and go out in an area in our back yard that was apart from the rest of the yard and pretend it was a stage and we were the Beatles.

Because I was the youngest, I always had to be Ringo.

My bossy older sisters were John and Paul (though I always thought I should have been Paul because I was left-handed), and my rather quiet brother was George.

I think I pounded on a box, but I can't quite remember.

Did we sing "Yesterday" and "Can't Buy Me Love"?

You got me. Playing Beatles was one of those vague memories from childhood that might have been more from my imagination than from reality.

In my mind, I am convinced it happened and that it was a lot of fun.

In reality? Who knows.

Anyway, the Beatles were a big part of the world when I was a kid, and their music was everywhere.

I think it's impossible to explain just how huge they were, how profound their mark was on the world.

They changed the way people dressed, the way they wore their hair, the shoes they bought. Even the glasses they wore.

And they changed music.

When they released a single, it felt like the biggest deal in the world because it was.

And when they released an album? The world kind of stood still to listen.

I vividly remember going to Gimbels to get a 45 of "Let it Be," the first record I ever bought on my own, and I can still remember the old man who sold it to me not able to hide his disgust when I asked for it.

I was the first person to buy it, he told me. How cool was I!

The Beatles belonged to us, not our parents and grandparents. And because their music was so great and so accessible, a little kid like me could feel a part of it all.

And this wasn't just bubble gum stuff. This was great music. The Beatles were the best.

So when Ringo Starr came to the American Music Theatre last week, I had to see him.

A Beatle!

In Lancaster!

Now that was a big deal.

And we live in a world where big deals don't happen much anymore.

Or rather, in a world where big deals happen all the time, so none of them feel all that big.

I still remember that Gimbels moment, but is anyone going to remember downloading some single onto their iPod? Will any band ever have the kind of influence the Beatles did?

As my colleague Jon Ferguson wrote in his excellent review of the show, "The man, after all, was a key player on rock's most important songs and albums, and the opportunity to hear him sing 'Yellow Submarine' and 'With a Little Help from My Friends,' songs written for him by (John) Lennon and Paul McCartney, was an absolute thrill."

Indeed, it was.

But for me, just hearing him chat with the audience in that delightful Liverpool accent, hearing that charming Beatles humor was as big a thrill as hearing him play the drums.

Ringo is a humble man. He knows he's the luckiest drummer in the world, not the most talented. He knows he'd still be in Liverpool (probably living on some small pension now that he's 70) if Pete Best had been cuter.

His genuine modesty was the most charming part of his show.

So, I've seen a Beatle. I was in the same room as Ringo Starr. There's something slightly amazing about that.

Can I explain why?

Not really. It's kind of like that vague Beatles game my brother and sisters and I played.

It just was, whether it really was or not.

jholahan@lnpnews.com