Yesterday was Thursday, December 8, 2005. Twenty five years ago yesterday, John Lennon was assassinated. Granted, anyone who kills another individual in cold blood is whacked, but how irrational was it to kill the guy who sang, “Give Peace a Chance”?
Now, I could sit here and sing the praises of Lennon’s songwriting ability, but I’ll save that for another time. Instead, I wanna talk about me.
When I was in high school, I was a gigantic Beatles fan. Still am, for that matter. Actually, my enthusiasm in high school might have bordered on some sorta sick fascination. I could have told you every album the Beatles produced, who wrote which songs, the story behind each song, any little bit of trivial knowledge that was associated with the Fab Four; including the date John Lennon was gunned down and, probably the address in NYC where he breathed his last. Yet, yesterday I had to be reminded by a news story that December 8 marks the quarter of a century mark since the world lost John.
What’s my point? Well, that our priorities change. Not only priorities, but our taste, our viewpoints, attitudes and feelings. When I was 16, I would have journeyed to the Dakota apartments in NYC just to stand on the slab of concrete where Lennon was killed. Now, I watch a ceremony to commemorate his death and I sorta think the people who traveled to this are, well, flakes.
That’s not to say I don’t still love the Beatles, I do. It’s just that I’ve found more important things in this world than “worshipping” rock stars. John Lennon will always have my respect and admiration, but as my priorities have changed, I’m not willing to give so much of my mental energy to fawn over someone who was still best known just for being a rock star.