Today is John Lennon’s birthday. He would have been 73.
I was once more living at my great grandparents’ house when I woke to the terrible December morning news – John Lennon had been killed the night before. Though only a kid, I cried before going to school. His murder made no sense then. It makes no sense now.
Because Lennon died at the tender age of 40, he remains – in our minds – a relatively young man. When I think of him now, I try to imagine his sense of humor. His laugh. I try to see him sharing dinner with his family. I envision a stack of books, and a comfortable reading chair. Basically, I imagine him as less of a music god and more as a mortal man.
I only know his music. I am completely unfamiliar with the regular guy. And though my mind reaches to know more than his musical achievement, I’ll take what I can get. And what I can get is a treasure trove of brilliant work. From early Beatles songs to “Double Fantasy,” Lennon’s songwriting still holds up. He’s still relevant. If you’re thinking I’m wrong, let me ask you this: when you’re out in the world and you hear “Imagine” – do you find yourself really listening? Of course you do. One can’t help but listen, and pay attention. For that simple, simple song is one of the most pleasingly complicated pieces of music we know.
I am aware that when the anniversary of John Lennon’s death rolls around, people stop to remember and pay tribute. I have heard that Yoko Ono doesn’t much care for this, as she prefers to honor his memory in a positive manner, which does not include focusing on the date of his murder. I respect that idea, and have marked Lennon’s birthday on my calendar each and every year. I do not mark the date of his death.
I’m sure we’ll hear all the John Lennon songs we want over the course of this day. Actually, that isn’t true. For I am also quite certain I’ll still be wanting to hear just one more song. Maybe a deep cut. Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll want to hear “Imagine” one more time…