Thank you for the link.
I was two.
But yet, I grew up on the Beatles -- "Help!" was my favorite movie for my entire childhood, and "Yellow Submarine" a middling close second -- wrapped up in a cloud of music and manic strangeness.
I remember the feeling of betrayal, my rage at the universe, when I was about seven or so, watching Help! for the thousandth time, and got told that John was dead. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right that I was too young to really remember -- that was what I thought then.
A while after that I learned that he had been shot. But I don't remember how I felt from that, it's not a concrete memory.
On, I think, 1 January 1990, NPR (All Things Considered, I think) did a sequence of audio clips from broadcasts of the past decade, and one of them was an announcer trying to say something, and breaking down into tears and a sobbed, ". . . he shot John Lennon." I remembered that, and filed it in memory next to that day in my living room watching John sing and feeling a gap I'd never known I had.
I never know what to say with things like this, no tidy conclusions and remarkable concluding sentences.
All I have is:
I've always missed John Lennon.
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