IMAGINING

25 years ago to the day, I was a freshman in college. I was watching Monday Night Football. My beloved Dolphins were playing the Patriots if I’m not mistaken. I think Miami won, but I’m not even sure. I don’t remember much about the game, just something that happened *during* the game.

It was late in the 4th quarter as I recall. Howard Cosell, sort of out of nowhere, made an announcement as only he could. In a somber tone, he told us that John Lennon had been shot twice in the back near his Dakota apartment in New York City, and that he was rushed to so-and-so hospital. Before I could even process my shock, Howard said something like, “Dead on arrival. An unspeakable tragedy.”

My blood rushed right through me. I felt flushed, tingly, and numb. I was a big Beatles fan. A big Lennon fan. John had been out of the limelight for so long until his then recently released album “Starting Over.” It was good to hear his voice over the airwaves once again. I had just read that he was at peace with his life and happy. So sad. I dunno. I felt like I lost a best friend. I had this really empty, empty feeling in my heart.

It’s still there. Every anniversary now is a reminder. And now, incredibly, it’s been 25 years. And I’m sad to watch the stories once again. I recall that this story dominated the news headlines for weeks. Mark David Chapman made sure there would be no Beatle reunion ever. I know I’m only one of millions of John Lennon fans who has spoken or written about his death. Any maybe this story is, in fact, old news. But I can’t really imagine ever forgetting John, his music, his genius, and his untimely death on December 8th, 1980. Happy Christmas, John.