The War Rages On...

Straight off the mark, I feel it is only fair that I let you know that in the world-wide schism that divides the planet between Beatles and Rolling Stones, I will almost certainly find myself on the side with John, Paul, George and Ringo. I could make my case for songwriting and cultural relevance, but at the end of the day it has more to do with the music that we were allowed to play at dinner at my house.
By the time we were teenagers, or on our way to becoming one, one of the three Caven boys would drag a record in from their rooms and ask that we listen to it during dinner. My mother generally had the radio in the living room tuned to KVOD, then Denver's classical music station - now "Denver's Jammin' Oldies." We knew that the audition process wasn't as difficult as we imagined it, but we also understood that my mother wasn't going to put up with any "language issues" or anything that rocked too heavily.
My mother was no music snob. She listened to just about anything that we brought home, appreciated it, and sometimes asked for more. I still send her music I think will she might like - and as a result I have created a Springsteen fanatic on a par with myself. That being said, I knew that Boston probably wouldn't get played, but Leon Redbone was a shoe-in. She was very patient. Elton John would get more play than Black Sabbath. And so it went. If you wanted to hear "kid music" at dinner, you had to pass muster. "Revolver" could be played with meat loaf, but "Sticky Fingers" couldn't. We were still clever enough not to try and get "The White Album" into the mix.
So I didn't get much of a chance to hear the Stones until I was getting satisfaction from my own stereo system. I got "Hot Rocks" and wore it out. "Some Girls" hit my high school like it was something brand new, and I had a college roommate who desperately wanted me to write a screenplay that would feature the songs from "Tattoo You." I'm still working on that screenplay, by the way.
Then there are the Beatles' albums. Aside from the attempts to repackage their ouvre, theirs is essentially finite. There are twelve of them (discounting hits, reissues, etc.). I find it hard to pick one to leave off the "desert island" list. They are the genetic material for pop music after 1962. Does that mean that I wouldn't try to sneak a little "Paint It Black" or "Gimme Shelter" into that mix? The Stones show up in my world as songs, not albums. They are the comic books, no, the graphic novels in my music library.
All of this is to say that I'm sorry to hear that Keith Richards hurt his head falling out of a palm tree or in a jet-ski accident. My remaining question would be, how do we judge "complete recovery" for Keith?