Rightfully so. Deservedly so.
People will gather outside the NY apartment building where he was murdered. They will remember the moment they heard the news that he had been shot, and then they will remember the moment they heard that he was dead.
It was a Monday night. I was 16 years old. It was the winter of my senior year in high school. I was gradually recovering from a devastating knee injury from the last football game I ever played, and coming to terms with the end of my dream of becoming a Marine. I was watching the football game between Miami and New England. Miami won 16-13. I had to look that up because I didn't remember.
Howard Cosell told me and millions of others that John Lennon had been murdered.
I wasn't devastated, but I was affected. I wasn't dead, just momentarily crippled. My knee was going to heal reasonably. We couldn't afford the surgery, so I'd have to make the best recovery I could without it. Barely a month after the injury, I was hardly able to put much weight on the knee, even with the aid of crutches. Although I would never play football in college or be a Marine, I was still going to have a life and a future.
John Lennon was dead.
There are the obvious songs to post in tribute to a man who wrote so many wonderful lyrics and so much intriguing music either as a solo singer/songwriter or in partnership with others. I wanted something less obvious, although no less significant.
I liked his solo work, but I loved his work with the Beatles. On 8 December 1980, fans finally knew there would never be a Beatles reunion. So that's what I want today. John Lennon as part of John, Paul, George, and Ringo.
My Ipod is on Beatles rotation. So take another day and remember John Lennon, and The Beatles, with joy.
