Happy Lennon Death Day

by Will

Lots of John Lennon on the radio and in newspapers yesterday, in tribute of the 25th anniversary of his death. I understand that everyone’s heart is in the right place but it is strange, and perhaps even morbidly inappropriate, to commemorate someone’s VIOLENT MURDER. That’s not what we’re doing, but it sounded strange to hear DJs on Sirius radio say “we’re honoring the 25th anniversary of John Lennon’s death” — almost like they’re saying they’re glad it happened.

Not that I haven’t done just as bizarre things in the name of the Beatles. In college and just after, I had so many Beatles and John Lennon posters in my room at home that it looked like I was a 12-year-old girl from 1964. I believe I was sharing that room with Hines Bro Brian at time (having bunk beds at 22 years old is an interesting way to be completely humbled), because I remember we set the stereo to wake us up with “Strawberry Fields Forever” on October 9 — Lennon’s birthday. It’s a sweet song to wake up to. I remember we tried to use “Good Day Sunshine” soon after, forgetting that that song begins with a really loud drum roll which scared the crap out of me at 8 in the morning.

I went to Strawberry Fields in Central Park for anniversaries of Lennon’s birthday and his murder in 1994 and maybe 1995 — shortly before I moved to NYC. Quiet crowds shuffled around the Imagine sign in the cement while 2 or 3 people sang Lennon songs on acoustic guitar. It was KIND OF a sweet scene, except that once I got there, I was instantly bored. I also remember thinking that it was a pretty unattractive group of people. Only ugly people honor the famous. That’s what John Lennon taught me. That, and that I am a strikingly shallow person.

It’s fair to say that for 2 years in college I listened to nothing but The Beatles. Rubber Soul and Revolver alone probably accounted for 50,000 miles of driving in my car.

I knew a girl in Boston who liked to bake cookies on John Lennon’s birthday. She wouldn’t let anyone else eat them — it was a private thing between her and John. And her food issues, I suppose, but her ritual did strike me as powerfully personal.

It was really nice to hear so many Lennon songs yesterday. Here at my new day job, we played a radio station that was broadcasting a smattering of artists (in London, I think) covering their favorites. It’s a nice way to spend the day. “Jealous Guy” sounds good, no matter who sings it. On the other side of the argument, there’s Elvis Costello who despite being president of the Beatles Fan Club in Liverpool when he was 12 and an avowed Lennon-phile, wrote “Wasn’t it a millionaire who said ‘Imagine no possesssions.’ ” It’s kind of a pissy thing to say about your idol, but I think it’s good to keep hostile thoughts like those around to balance out sentimentality.