Monday, December 08, 2008



Repost from 12/8/04.

I was surprised how much this bothered me. Elvis had died a few years earlier, but I didn't see what the big deal was. He was just an old singer. But then John Lennon died. He was murdered, actually. Maybe that's why it hurt so much more.

I was exactly 15 years and 3 days old. I was starting to branch out a bit musically. I was growing out of the cartoon antics of KISS and the remnants of disco just weren't cutting it. I was starting to take music a little more seriously. The Beatles were a big part of that. I was the only kid I knew that owned The White Album and Abbey Road. I adored the Beatles.

My mom woke me up and told me. We watched TV all morning and I cried a bit. My mom didn't make me go to school that day. I didn't have to ask her - she just didn't say anything. I always thought that was very cool of her.

Imagine. I can't help but think of John every time I hear that word - regardless of the context.


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