A colleague and I were talking the other day about moments in our lives that are etched in memory of where exactly we were when they happened.
Sure, we both had the obvious including September 11, Columbine, even Princess Diana’s death. But what became most interesting were the more obscure memories.
Mine included the first time I saw a microwave oven being used, the Patty Hearst kidnapping and the 1989 World Series Earthquake. But the one event that clearly stands out in mind that remember every word, every feeling, everything that was going on - happened on December 8, 1980.
1980 was a pivotal year for me – I had just started college at 17 – and was pretty unsure of what my life ahead had to offer. The only things I did know were 1- I was way too young to be away from home for college and 2 – I loved the Beatles. Pretty simplistic by today’s standards, but in an age before computers, CD’s, remotes or cell phones – it was complicated enough.
On December 8, 1980 my girlfriend, Brenda, called me to tell me the news. “Did you hear John Lennon’s been shot?” Of course I didn’t believe her, there was no reason to shoot John Lennon. He wasn’t a radical or a political player; all he wanted was to give peace a chance. The man made people happy, and except for his bad taste in wives, he was a genius – my girlfriend must be mistaken. So I turned on the television, again remember this is an era before a lowly college student could afford cable – so all I had was CKVR Barrie. Nothing – no mention, I was positive she was wrong.
Then the 11:00 news – they replayed an earlier announcement from Howard Cosell during a football game “This, we have to say it. Remember this is just a football game, no matter who wins or loses. An unspeakable tragedy, confirmed to us by ABC News in New York City: John Lennon, outside of his apartment building on the West Side of New York City, the most famous, perhaps, of all The Beatles, shot twice in the back, rushed to the Roosevelt Hospital, dead on arrival.”
And at 11:20 Walter Cronkite confirmed John Lennon was dead.
I cried, all night. I cried the next day at school, I went to the vigils, I held my Bic lighter in the air, I sang, “give peace a chance” but I never understood.
That week, I can honestly say, changed me forever. I was no longer the naïve teenager from Fonthill from a sheltered background – I was someone who had the person they believe in the most ripped out from under them, for no reason at all. There was no reason for Mark David Chapman to do what he did. He even sat there and waited for the cops to come. He took everything away from me, and millions of others just like me.
That was the day I realized life wasn’t fair.
This December will mark 30 years … Life still isn’t fair, people are still doing unthinkably cruel things, but lucky for me, I’ve found more heroes to get me through the day.
Here’s to you John.
There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends
I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
there is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more
