Thanks Dar, for pushing me to post. I do need to get back to this.
“With what person, living or dead, would you like to share dinner?”
An annoying, albeit telling question that is frequently used as a conversation starter, and one for which I have ALWAYS had the same answer.
John Lennon.
I’m not really certain why I’ve always gravitated to Mr. Lennon. The Beatles were broken up shortly after I was born, the song “Imagine” was released when I was 3 and by the time I was aware of his existence, he was not a “working class hero,” but a pampered, private, semi-retired rock and roll legend living in luxury on Central Park West. He had a wife and young son, and was about to release an album called “Double Fantasy.” Not much there to which an 11 year old Midwestern middle class kid growing up in Glen Ellyn, Illinois could relate. Yet something about his music touched me then, and continues to touch me now. I had seen “Beatlemania” at the Shubert Theatre when I was 11 and had developed a love for their music over the next year. Lennon songs I was familiar with were deep, personal works like “In My Life” and “Strawberry Fields,” trippy ramblings like “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” and surprisingly profound pop numbers like “Help” and “Nowhere Man.” I didn’t know “Imagine” at that point, hadn’t heard “Instant Karma,” and certainly was not familiar with “God.” In other words, he was a Beatle. That’s all he was to me. That was good enough.
Subsequently, he released the album “Double Fantasy.” I’m sorry, but if you don’t appreciate how personal “Watching the Wheels” or “Starting Over” or “Woman” are, then you don’t appreciate personal music. I remember listening to WLS and waiting to hear these songs again and again. He was now speaking to me as a solo artist, and I was getting it. I was 12, but dammit, I was relating.
Then I woke up on December 9, 1980.
It is 30 years later today.
As I ponder the answer to the question about dinner companionship, I reflect on John Lennon, and why it is I would place him as the single person I would like to meet. Beyond being one of the biggest icons in music history, the man was probably the smartest, most talented person in the room anywhere he went. I’m sure that was the way Thomas Jefferson (my number 2) was as well, but something about Lennon was just so available. While John was shielded from the world, he was always willing to open himself up through his music, or through his interviews, or through his familial relationships. He was willing to be the clown prince for peace, willing to fight battles when it was time, and willing to lend his voice if it was needed. His final two concert performances were a benefit for the mentally ill for chrissakes.
Watch “A Hard Day's Night” (starts at :30 of this scene - but Grandfather's line just before it is one of the best in the movie) The scene where the boys sneak out and go to the nightclub, which I believe is unscripted, all the other Beatles are goofing around, Ringo doing his crazy dance, Paul doing it with him, George is dancing as awkwardly as he can, and John is sitting in a corner, talking to a group of people. Engaging them is a better term. He was always above the Beatle thing, yet perfectly willing to embrace it where he could.
Ultimately today I am left to ponder what we missed. The Beatles had only been broken up for 10 years. Other classic rockers from that era (and after) reunited, some with success, others without success. I think the Beatles also would have been one of those that did reunite. The Universe would eventually have pulled them in that direction. “Free as a Bird” is a nice song, but imagine a true John Lennon piece, written at age 45 or so with those guys as the band. We missed that.
John was a tireless anti-war voice. Imagine him alive in 2003. For that matter, imagine his voice on
John was a visual artist. His drawings were simple, yet inspired. Who knows what he might have accomplished with a computer? We missed that.
John was a husband and a father. Yoko, Julian and Sean missed that. I think we did a little too.
Ultimately the man lived a good life. He touched millions, and continues to today. I sang “Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)” to my newest son the night he was born, and Barrett jumps around singing “Hey Bulldog” with surprising fervor.
For those reasons alone, he’s my dinner companion.
I hope you have found peace Mr. Lennon.
We sure miss you here.
An annoying, albeit telling question that is frequently used as a conversation starter, and one for which I have ALWAYS had the same answer.
John Lennon.
I’m not really certain why I’ve always gravitated to Mr. Lennon. The Beatles were broken up shortly after I was born, the song “Imagine” was released when I was 3 and by the time I was aware of his existence, he was not a “working class hero,” but a pampered, private, semi-retired rock and roll legend living in luxury on Central Park West. He had a wife and young son, and was about to release an album called “Double Fantasy.” Not much there to which an 11 year old Midwestern middle class kid growing up in Glen Ellyn, Illinois could relate. Yet something about his music touched me then, and continues to touch me now. I had seen “Beatlemania” at the Shubert Theatre when I was 11 and had developed a love for their music over the next year. Lennon songs I was familiar with were deep, personal works like “In My Life” and “Strawberry Fields,” trippy ramblings like “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,” and surprisingly profound pop numbers like “Help” and “Nowhere Man.” I didn’t know “Imagine” at that point, hadn’t heard “Instant Karma,” and certainly was not familiar with “God.” In other words, he was a Beatle. That’s all he was to me. That was good enough.
Subsequently, he released the album “Double Fantasy.” I’m sorry, but if you don’t appreciate how personal “Watching the Wheels” or “Starting Over” or “Woman” are, then you don’t appreciate personal music. I remember listening to WLS and waiting to hear these songs again and again. He was now speaking to me as a solo artist, and I was getting it. I was 12, but dammit, I was relating.
Then I woke up on December 9, 1980.
 |
| Iconic photo of an icon |
I’m not really certain why I wasn’t watching Monday Night Football the night before when Howard Cosell broke the news of Lennon's murder to the world, but I was sick. That much I remember. I woke up and my mom told me to come into her room, where I watched the CBS Morning News coverage of Lennon’s death. I remember photo montage after photo montage, their soundtracks being “In My Life” or “Imagine” or “Watching the Wheels.” I remember one black and white photo of Lennon playing a Les Paul guitar wearing an army jacket. Further education has taught me that it was a Les Paul Jr. It was red, and that the photo was taken at Madison Square Garden during one of Lennon’s final full concert performances in August of 1972. 1972! A full 8 years before he died. I stayed home from school that day, and watched pretty much wall to wall Lennon coverage the entire day. I had a sense then that the world had lost something special, and seeing the crowds on TV confirmed that.
It is 30 years later today.
As I ponder the answer to the question about dinner companionship, I reflect on John Lennon, and why it is I would place him as the single person I would like to meet. Beyond being one of the biggest icons in music history, the man was probably the smartest, most talented person in the room anywhere he went. I’m sure that was the way Thomas Jefferson (my number 2) was as well, but something about Lennon was just so available. While John was shielded from the world, he was always willing to open himself up through his music, or through his interviews, or through his familial relationships. He was willing to be the clown prince for peace, willing to fight battles when it was time, and willing to lend his voice if it was needed. His final two concert performances were a benefit for the mentally ill for chrissakes.
Watch “A Hard Day's Night” (starts at :30 of this scene - but Grandfather's line just before it is one of the best in the movie) The scene where the boys sneak out and go to the nightclub, which I believe is unscripted, all the other Beatles are goofing around, Ringo doing his crazy dance, Paul doing it with him, George is dancing as awkwardly as he can, and John is sitting in a corner, talking to a group of people. Engaging them is a better term. He was always above the Beatle thing, yet perfectly willing to embrace it where he could.
Ultimately today I am left to ponder what we missed. The Beatles had only been broken up for 10 years. Other classic rockers from that era (and after) reunited, some with success, others without success. I think the Beatles also would have been one of those that did reunite. The Universe would eventually have pulled them in that direction. “Free as a Bird” is a nice song, but imagine a true John Lennon piece, written at age 45 or so with those guys as the band. We missed that.
John was a tireless anti-war voice. Imagine him alive in 2003. For that matter, imagine his voice on September 11, 2001. He would have spoken of love, peace, forgiveness and understanding. He would have led protests against the quagmire we entered in Iraq, and would probably have helped us avoid a second term of W. We missed that.
John was a visual artist. His drawings were simple, yet inspired. Who knows what he might have accomplished with a computer? We missed that.
John was a husband and a father. Yoko, Julian and Sean missed that. I think we did a little too.
Ultimately the man lived a good life. He touched millions, and continues to today. I sang “Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)” to my newest son the night he was born, and Barrett jumps around singing “Hey Bulldog” with surprising fervor.
For those reasons alone, he’s my dinner companion.
I hope you have found peace Mr. Lennon.
We sure miss you here.
 |
Me in front of the Dakota, right outside the entrance where John was killed. I remember that guard booth from the photos in the paper. Imagine. |
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