I was a precocious five year old, and already a gigantic fan of music.
We didn’t have much money when I was young, we never went to the movies, and couldn’t afford to spend anything on “entertainment.” But my parents had a large collection of 33-RPM albums and singles on 45.*
The most expensive thing in our house, besides perhaps the gigantic wooden consoled television, was my dad’s hi-fi and turntable. Every weekend would be spent with the three of us on the floor in front of the speakers while my dad would play disc jockey.
Nearly every song had a story to go along with it. My mom and dad laughing and reminiscing about driving around in a 1966 gold Ford Mustang Fastback, listening to Frankie Vallie and the Four Seasons or The Beach Boys, or Jan and Dean. I’d hear the story about the night my dad went to a surprise party at my mom’s church. When the lights were lowered and everyone in the room was quiet, waiting for the guest of honor, my dad let out a very loud obnoxious and realistic “MOOOOOO.”
And interspersed with all these stories were the songs of The Beatles. I knew all the words to almost every song. I had listened to every album. Even today when I hear “In My Life” or “Hey Jude” I can still picture the 45 with the bright green apple logo spinning on the turntable.
That Monday evening the news reports broke into prime time television with the announcement that John Lennon had been shot and killed outside of his New York Apartment. My mother cried, my dad gritted his teeth. I don’t remember crying, I probably did, as I was an extremely sensitive child** and could cry at the drop of a hat.***
It wasn’t until the next day or two afterwards that it struck me that other people in the world liked The Beatles, that other families knew the words to “Imagine” and “Happy Christmas (War is Over).”
News reports showed the candle light vigils across the world. People gathered in Central Park when officials moved the crowd away from the Dakota. The world was grieving. I have only the vaguest impressions of memories surrounding Elvis’ death and funeral, so this was really the first time in my life that a celebrity death really impacted the people around me. It’s funny how when you’re a kid, you have no real concept of the world outside of your own family and friends.
It was also the first time that I got a glimpse of fame and admiration for a musician and I was hooked.
Many years later, my high school show choir went to New York City to perform at Ellis Island. It was my senior year, and I was on a bus loaded with my 50 closest friends,**** and some chaperoning parents, including my own.
As part of the tour, we walked through Central Park and ended up in Strawberry Fields and the memorial mosaic that sits across the street from the Dakota. The choir had been performing “Imagine” all year long, and we gathered around the memorial and sang it.
As we finished the song, a voice called out from across the street, “Thank you! John would love that!” Yoko Ono was standing on the stoop of her building waving at us. She grabbed the hand of the child next to her, turned and entered the building.
* Ok, for the young ones out there… there used to be these things called albums. They came on pressed sheets of vinyl with sounds cut into special grooves, that when a needle was applied, and the album spun at 33 revolutions per minute, music would come out. You only see these in thrift stores now, unless you DJ dance music, then you ruin the records by scratching over them with the needle.
** Are you surprised?
*** I still do. Damn that fucking holiday Folgers commercial. And ER. And the trailer for Pursuit of Happyness. And…
**** I barely interacted with anyone outside of the Harmonaires. I didn’t have time, with all the rehearsals and concerts. I didn’t know many people in my graduating class of 300, however for some reason everyone knew me.
I remember my sister crying over this. I was 3. I also grew up with the Beatles. Listening to LP’s and then to tapes. We were always singing with the Beach Boys, dancing to Saturday Night Fever, Rocking out with Donna Summer and Blondie. The beatles were a constant.
Your choir experience? would have been a dream come true. THAT is SO unbelievably cool.
This is really touching. You’re quite a writer!
I was around 9 when Lennon was asassinated. I am EMBARASSED at my how I responded when my mom told me about it as soon as I got off the bus that day.
She said, “John Lennon from the Beatles was shot and killed today.” and I said, “So.” She GLARED at me and said, “All he wanted was a little peace.” and turned away from me. I didn’t understand why she cared or, more significantly, how much she cared.
I think about that sometimes and about much the world grew for me in subsequent years. Of course I was a HUGE Beatles fan starting in highschool and today I miss John and wonder how much better our world would be if he were still in it.
Whenever I think I’ve got it all figured out, I remember how easy it is for two little letters to show how ignorant I really am.
Peace on YOU and keep up the great posts.
http://www.stirfrykitty.com/?p=103
You’re invited, if you’d like to register.
I really don’t remember John Lennon dying. I did not really get into music until I was in college. I am kind of glad, it is not a moment I would really cherish.
I do remember when Lennon died. It was the same night I was playing poker with friends in my uber-tiny, kinda one bedroom apartment while I was in the Army in Germany. We heard the news over AFN Radio–minutes later, my commander showed up on the door to tell me my grandfather had died. I was too po’ to have a phone, so he couldn’t call. Now, everytime I hear the Beatles or Lennon solo, I think of my grandfather. I’m enjoying this site very much and hope you’ll visit mine. Viva La Familia!
Gina – I had my fair share of Donna Summer and Saturday Night Fever moments. I had an unnatural fixation on the Yvonne Elleman song “If I Can’t Have You.” And as dorky as a show choir might sound, most of my fondest memories of high school involve the people and events connected with it. It was a ton of fun.
Liz – Thanks! I really enjoy your site, too! (Hi Killer!) As huge as the loss of Lennon was, I can’t help but think that perhaps his martyrdom is for the best. Would he or his music still have the same impact today that it does? Would we ponder the lyrics to “Imagine” so often or deeply if the pacifist who wrote them hadn’t been killed in such a violent awful way? Not that I”m advocating assassination of anyone, but I do wonder if he had lived would people still be interested in him?
Bianca – Thanks, I look forward to the posts!
Killer – I hear things like that all the time, “I didn’t get into music until [...]” You may as well tell me that you were born with 6 eyes and an extra spleen hanging from your neck. It does not compute to me. I can’t remember a time that I wasn’t ‘into music.’ ::boggle::
Lori – Sorry about your grandfather, but at least you don’t have to connect his death to someone like, say, Yanni, or Englebert Humperdinck. A fond memory of your grandpa while hearing “Watching the Wheels” doesn’t sound half bad to me.
Oh, I was in Choir all right, we just didn’t have a show choir. And I didn’t make “jazz ensemble” funny how it was all the same kids in there as in drama as in all the solos and all the plays…I have always felt there was a bit of favoritism and politics in my HS choir. funny, I feel like I was a “minor favorite”. Good enough to make the 1000 voice choir, but certainly not one of the pets. I wonder how everyone else felt?
Although I was only two, ooh..nope, don’t remember John Lennon’s death, but I do remember watching the video of you with the choir singing.
Back then I wasn’t born yet
But I do share the same passion for music. When I was little I always liked to put fragments of a tape together to make something new, always experimenting. But now I play my own Turntables 
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