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Saturday, December 8, 2012

He would be a young 72

John Lennon
My guess is that if John Lennon were not assassinated on that terrible December night in 1980, he would be performing this coming Wednesday night at the Madison Square Garden to help his neighbors, the victims of the wind, the rain and the storm surge from Hurricane Sandy.

Memo to: Sandy and Mark David Chapman ... You can just kiss my ass.

I try to get along with everyone, I do my best.  But, I don't ever want to see Sandy nor her likes ever again. Same for that Katrina cat. Good bye and good riddance.

Now, Mr Chapman, you selfish creep.  I hope you rot in jail.  Don't even think about forgiveness, not a chance for love, for peace (or peace of mind), or for all the things John Lennon stood for in his music. Don't think about parole. (And, by the way, if you were to be paroled, you'd have no chance, even on a deserted island).

Now that I've got that off my chest. Let's get on with a regular programming blog post.

Oh, John. 

It's been 32 years since that terrible, terrible night. I was at Avery Fisher Hall, watching the Marshall Tucker Band do the WNEW-FM Christmas Concert. The Hess Truck was purchased for some poor little kid to benefit from the Toy Drive.

You were at the recording studio, then grabbing a bite on the way home to the Dakota.

The concert was great, then we got into the car, parked on the West Side, near Lincoln Center, only a few blocks from 72nd and CPK West. The sound of sirens cut into the December night like a switch blade cutting through soft flesh. "What is going on?"

We turned on the radio and heard these words:

WNEW-FM on December 8 -

My favorite Lennon line:

Instant Karma's gonna get you
Gonna knock you right on the head
You better get yourself together
Pretty soon you're gonna be dead.
What in the world you thinking of
Laughing in the face of love
What on earth you tryin' to do
It's up to you, yeah you.

When we moved to 74th Street, I walked through Strawberry Fields nearly every weekend. My oldest crawled and learned to walk in that section of the park. I can remember her venturing out - away from the blanket and picnic stuff on the grass, walking as far as she could before turning around to see if her parents were near. It was the furthest she had ever been from her Mom, a good 35 yards.

I felt a little bit of John and always found some peace every time I walked by the IMAGINE mosaic in the center of the walkway, leading up to The Dakota. There was always a tourist there for the first time, paying respects and there were always bouquets of roses, single flowers, and tons of hand-written letters or cards left every day.

Time marched on and I related to these words:

Before you cross the street,
Take my hand,
Life is what happens to you
While you're busy making other plans.

Then, a trip to the 2006 World Championship in Saitama, Japan unearthed the "John Lennon Museum" and I re-lived all of the memories. I can remember walking into the last exhibit, a white room - and just sitting down and quietly sobbing.

It's been 32 years since that night on the West Side of Manhattan in December of 1980.

The pain still lingers.


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