There aren't words for what John Lennon means to me. At all. We share a birthday, which okay, one in 365 people do. That's not so unusual. It didn't really even mean that much to me until I was in my teens and started to grasp what he meant--culturally, artistically, everything. I knew about the Ed Sullivan Show; I knew about the Fab Four and the British Invasion; hell, I'd been to a Rolling Stones concert. My parents were hippies, for goodness' sake. I knew. I understood on an intellectual level, but it didn't occur to me until I was about sixteen that he really had an impact.
There's a photo of me in the Munich airport in April 1998. I don't have it scanned, but the general idea is this: I'm laying on my back across a row of airport seats at about 6am, reading The Hunt For Red October in paperback. I'm wearing round glasses, bell bottoms, and a brown corduroy jacket, hair pulled into a ponytail, and resting my head on a backpack. This was back when we had to get photos developed, and I'm sure that if I'd had a preview of the picture I'd have freaked out and made the person who took it delete it immediately. Instead, when the picture came back I did a double take, because there's a very Lennon-esque quality to it.
I realized shortly thereafter that John Lennon died at about the same time that I was conceived, and for some reason--it really affects me, to this day. Hell, when my mother got her '68 Beetle, we named her Yoko. There wasn't any other name she could have. (Say what you will--she made John a happy man, and that's worth a lot to me.)
Today was a rare day; I got to change the radio station at work to NPR and so all day it was conversation about Lennon and McCartney and Yoko and Sean and Julian and frankly, I spent most of the day on the verge of tears. I remembered sitting in Grandville with Brian and Jen listening to music, about this time last year, after dinner and the boys' bedtime, and Brian pulling up a live video of "Hey Jude" and explaining to Jen that there was a really good reason that John looked pissy... remembering the first time I heard "Because" and getting the chills... downloading most of the Beatles' catalog last fall... spending a good chunk of time over the last two years bathing in that music...
Today is a sad day. We lost Elizabeth Edwards yesterday, and that wrenches my heart for her children. Thirty years ago today, we lost a generation's voice to the gun of a crazy man wielding a copy of The Catcher In The Rye.
Someday I want to be at the Dakota Hotel on December 8, to lay a flower and sing "Because" and hold that moment. I want to see Central Park's strawberry fields, stand on a rooftop and hope for the best. I want to lay in bed with a lover and make it matter. I want to create one single thing that has one-tenth the impact that he did.
John Lennon will never stop inspiring me. His art, his voice, his life: he is missed terribly. We did our small part to commemorate him tonight; the Wednesday night karaoke crowd sang a good many of his songs in celebration and remembrance. It wasn't enough. I want to live up to the legacy that I've made for myself from just sharing his birthday and one small photo.
I leave it with this:
Because the world is round
It turns me on
Because the world is round
Because the wind is high
It blows my mind
Because the wind is high
Love is all
Love is new
Love is all
Love is you
Because the sky is blue
It makes me cry
Because the sky is blue
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