The Day Lennon Was Shot

I remember that day, kinda.

I was in middle school, eighth grade I suppose. While no one in our house was a big Beatles or John Lennon fan, I seem to recall the teevee being on all day. Lots of weepy newscasters interviewing distraught fans. Heard a lot of Beatles music around this time, especially the Lennon songs. There was an analysis of his music in a newspaper column I read. The lyrics to I Am The Walrus, possibly being the most bizarre and slightly distasteful thing of poetry I had ever read up to that point, burned scar tissue in my memory.

Still too young to understand the repercussions or the significance of this man at the time of the shooting. Some of the “cooler” kids in my grade knew I guess, but I was on the far periphery of “cool” back then. The only knowledge of music I had was probably my mother’s collection of ELO records and Free to Be You and Me. I was much more a book worm at this point.

A few months later I would come home to an empty house and the attempted Reagan assassination on the tube. I watched it – as we all did – over and over and over and over again and the networks replayed it again and again and again. It didn’t warp me or anything, but it did lend a surreality to the day only surpassed by 9/11.

I did later listen to a lot of Beatles music, and though I was never a true-blue fan, I did form some opinions on the band and its members. Here, if you be interested.