December 8, 1980

I was 11 years old on December 8, 1980. I don't really have much of any memory of John Lennon's death as it happened. I heard about it at school, certainly, but I simply wasn't really into music at the time beyond what happened to be on the radio at home or in the car.

I do remember that one of my best friends at the time was a huge Beatles fan, and he played his 45s of "Starting Over" and "Woman" a hell of a lot in the months after that day (then again, we also wore out a copy of the Stars On 45 single a year later, so make of that what you will). I also clearly remember reading a Time magazine cover story about it at my Grandmother's house a few weeks later while we were visiting for Christmas. I probably felt like it was a real shame that one of the Beatles was dead, but didn't give it much thought beyond that.

Needless to say, it took years for the enormity of that day to sink in. It probably wasn't until a bunch of us from work went to go see Imagine: John Lennon when it came out in November of 1988 that the real impact of that day was made clear. The movie, like its subject, was alternately joyous, frustrating, funny, flawed and amazingly touching: a beautiful tribute to John's life within and outside of the Fab Four.

This tribute comes at a price, however: the scenes at the end of Imagine that deal with the events of December 8 and the emotional aftermath in New York City remain almost impossible to watch without feeling overwhelmed with sadness or rage.


What an incredibly sad and senseless loss.

RIP.