On Lennon's passing
I managed to miss the anniversary of John Lennon's death by one day but I may get dispensation because I'm sure there's somewhere on the planet where it's still the 8th of December, so forgive me Johnny.
It was exactly 25 years ago that he was shot and killed. His death stunned and staggered the world. The news of his death hit me just as hard as the assasinations of JFK, RFK and Martin. In short, you remembered where you were when you first heard the news.
I was working with a theatre company in Northern California and on that night I went to the movies with (surprise) an actress from the company. It was our one night off from the theatre so it was a Monday night I beleive. We went to see the Walt Disney film Fantasia at the Century 22 and this was well before the resurgent interest we've seen in the film the last ten years. Because of this there was a total of seven people in the cavernous maw of this huge cinema. It was a night like any other, at least at first.
The movie was nearly over and I was wondering how-where-when-if I was going to score with this female but fate intervened slightly with my evil plans. The lights came up and as we were getting out of our seats the Assistant Manager of the theatre walked in down to our left and announced that John Lennon had been shot and killed. We were stunned. But we were also in denial. Could the guy have been wrong or playing a cruel joke? We rushed out to my car in the parking lot and sat there listening to KGO out of San Francisco. We didn't have to look far to find news of the tragedy, the airwaves were buzzing with the news of his untimely death. Our one little thread of hope, the notion that it could all be a mistake, was shattered. He was dead.
It was exactly half a lifetime ago for me and all I have left now are fragments. My letter to the editor of my local paper telling the world just what a loss we've suffered, the cover of Time magazine with a watercolor of Lennon and the headline The Day The Music Died. Bits and pieces. Ultimately that's all we're left with, right? Imagine.
It was exactly 25 years ago that he was shot and killed. His death stunned and staggered the world. The news of his death hit me just as hard as the assasinations of JFK, RFK and Martin. In short, you remembered where you were when you first heard the news.
I was working with a theatre company in Northern California and on that night I went to the movies with (surprise) an actress from the company. It was our one night off from the theatre so it was a Monday night I beleive. We went to see the Walt Disney film Fantasia at the Century 22 and this was well before the resurgent interest we've seen in the film the last ten years. Because of this there was a total of seven people in the cavernous maw of this huge cinema. It was a night like any other, at least at first.
The movie was nearly over and I was wondering how-where-when-if I was going to score with this female but fate intervened slightly with my evil plans. The lights came up and as we were getting out of our seats the Assistant Manager of the theatre walked in down to our left and announced that John Lennon had been shot and killed. We were stunned. But we were also in denial. Could the guy have been wrong or playing a cruel joke? We rushed out to my car in the parking lot and sat there listening to KGO out of San Francisco. We didn't have to look far to find news of the tragedy, the airwaves were buzzing with the news of his untimely death. Our one little thread of hope, the notion that it could all be a mistake, was shattered. He was dead.
It was exactly half a lifetime ago for me and all I have left now are fragments. My letter to the editor of my local paper telling the world just what a loss we've suffered, the cover of Time magazine with a watercolor of Lennon and the headline The Day The Music Died. Bits and pieces. Ultimately that's all we're left with, right? Imagine.
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