Well, I was a fetus. Where do you think I was?

On the other hand, I can give lots of details about where I was and what I was doing when John Lennon was assassinated.

I was a month and a half shy of seventeen. I was a senior in high school. It was a Monday. Before going to school that day, I had listened to John & Yoko's Double Fantasy album, the one that had been released the month before and had already gone "gold."

That evening, before going to bed, I listened to two more of his albums: Some Time in New York City and Walls and Bridges. (I think... It might have been Mind Games.)

Around 10:30 that night, I suddenly got very ill. Nausea, chills... It didn't last more than a few minutes, but it was enough to cause me to decide to go to bed a bit early that night. This is why I didn't hear of John's death until the following morning.

I woke, as usual, to the sound of my dad's electric razor in the bathroom, right next to my bedroom. I waited in that semi-slumber state, enjoying the warmth of the bed in the cold room. Finally, the razor stopped and I cranked my eyes open. Shortly, Dad peered into my room, making sure I was awake. But instead of "Good Morning," he said, "John Lennon was shot last night."

My first reaction, honestly, was to laugh. "Sounds like something he'd go and do," I said. "How bad is he?"

And then he said, "He's killed."

Dad had nothing more to say. He didn't know what he could say. So he shuffled away, heading downstairs, while I sat numb, thinking that he must be mistaken.

I reached over to the nightstand by my bed, which held a small black & white television. I turned it on. I immediately recognized the scene that greeted me. It was the Dakota building in NYC, the Central Park West apartment where John, Yoko, and Sean lived. And what looked like half the city was gathered in the street, singing "Give Peace a Chance."

And suddenly, it was like I'd been kicked in the stomach. I sat in stunned silence, absorbing the fact that John Lennon was dead. It didn't really sink in for about three days.

I had discovered the Beatles only a few years earlier, as I discussed in Cardigan On Music. Eventually, I focused on the solo careers of the band, and 1980 had been my year to really get into John's music.

But it wasn't just his music, of course. It was the man himself. John was someone that I'd grown to admire a great deal. Not only was he a fine musician, great singer, and excellent composer, he was also a really decent human being, from the accounts I've read. I admired his strength in kicking his drug dependency. I admired his perpetual peace pushing. But most of all, I think, was the fact that I admired his ability to voice his opinions and stand by them, even in the face of occasional public ridicule. John did what he wanted, said what he wanted, and didn't really give a damn whether some people were offended. Conviction to his ideals. I liked that.

Like many others, I was looking forward to John's return to the musical world after his five year hiatus. But I was also looking forward to his return to the socio-political arena. How different would the oppressive 80's have been with John's voice speaking to us all, as it had throughout the late 60's and early 70's? One can only imagine...

You might have noticed that I used the word "assassination" earlier, rather than "murder." For the reason behind that, I suggest you read the book Who Killed John Lennon? by Fenton Bresler. This book raises some very interesting points about Lennon's death and his killer. I, for one, had always felt that there were some things about the explanation of Chapman's motive that just didn't make much sense.

The general decision had been that he killed John in order to be noticed. He wanted to be the center of attention. If so, then why did he plead guilty? He could have been the center of a trial to rival O.J.'s.

Lots of things about the whole situation were very odd, and this book really makes you wonder about them. Things are often stranger than they appear on the surface.

On December 8, 1990, the tenth anniversary of Lennon's death, I spent the evening in NYC. I joined the hundreds of others as they congregated in front of the Dakota and in the cozy area of Central Park directly across from the building: Strawberry Fields.

It was a strange night. There were lots of emotions. Many people wore somber expressions, obviously caught up in remembering John and what he meant to them. Some shed tears and embraced friends, lovers, strangers. Still others preferred to celebrate John's life, rather than his death. They sang his songs, played guitars and boom boxes. Rumors circulated that Yoko and/or Sean would make an appearance.

As for myself... I felt oddly detached from the experience. I spent my night walking among these people, studying them. I didn't really feel much of anything. This might be because I was there alone and had no one to talk with, to share with.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to be there on the 20th anniversary. Maybe the 25th. And in the meantime, I'll continue to remember John with both fondness and sadness. As will many.

This John Lennon Ring site is owned by The Sage of Cardigan Click for the [ Next Page | Skip It | Previous | Next Five] Want to join the ring? Click here for info.