The broadcast of "Mommie Dearest" was interrupted by the news and quite fast friends and relatives gather at my apartment to bump into each other in absolute dismay! The nex morning walking to a local record store store in another neighborhood the air seem unusally quite, still and very warm like a aftershock of a tremendous earthquake! I keep flashing back on seeing that Ed Sullivan show on a cool Sunday at my Grandmothers house sitting there all alone due to no interest from the rest the family., and thinking the music had ended like a skid on a record player., but with the help of Lennon's voice and music the harsh reality became easier to cope with.
Lennon Lives!
Curious to read others memories of that fateful night.
The documentary below although painful to watch is a rather well done one from 2010
My memories of that horrible night have always been inextricably linked to my memories of walking around like a zombie the next day in my high school.
My first period teacher, whom I loved and admired, and who always teased me and my friends about our obsession with rock and punk music (he was a die-hard jazz aficionado), was very compassionate and spent a good deal of the class talking to us about what had happened. I remember he ended the discussion by acknowledging the tragic loss, but reminding us that at least John will remain "forever young."
As a teenager who also loved the Dylan song, I thought his words wise and took whatever comfort in them that I could wring out. But as I've gotten older, it makes me angry when I think about the years that were stolen from John and how he was never given the chance to grow old. But still... I appreciate that my favorite teacher reached out to me and to all of my classmates. (Mostly, though, he was talking to me.)
My favorite teacher died this year. On John's birthday.
There's some kind of poetry in that.
Howard Safier
February 8, 1936–October 9, 2014
__________________ All I want is the truth
Just give me some truth...
Last edited by Maia 66 : Dec 08, 2014 at 05:51 PM.
My memories of that horrible night have always been inextricably linked to my memories of walking around like a zombie the next day in my high school.
My first period teacher, whom I loved and admired, and who always teased me and my friends about our obsession with rock and punk music (he was a die-hard jazz aficionado), was very compassionate and spent a good deal of the class talking to us about what had happened. I remember he ended the discussion by acknowledging the tragic loss, but reminding us that at least John will remain "forever young."
As a teenager who also loved the Dylan song, I thought his words wise and took whatever comfort in them that I could wring out. But as I've gotten older, it makes me angry when I think about the years that were stolen from John and how he was never given the chance to grow old. But still... I appreciate that my favorite teacher reached out to me and to all of my classmates. (Mostly, though, he was talking to me.)
My favorite teacher died this year. On John's birthday.
There's some kind of poetry in that.
Howard Safier
February 8, 1936–October 9, 2014
Wow! Maia 66 I was'nt sure if anyone could respond the way you have done, so bittersweet and beautiful thanks for your comments and I'm sure your teacher will also live in your heart as strong as John has.
My memories of that horrible night have always been inextricably linked to my memories of walking around like a zombie the next day in my high school.
My first period teacher, whom I loved and admired, and who always teased me and my friends about our obsession with rock and punk music (he was a die-hard jazz aficionado), was very compassionate and spent a good deal of the class talking to us about what had happened. I remember he ended the discussion by acknowledging the tragic loss, but reminding us that at least John will remain "forever young."
As a teenager who also loved the Dylan song, I thought his words wise and took whatever comfort in them that I could wring out. But as I've gotten older, it makes me angry when I think about the years that were stolen from John and how he was never given the chance to grow old. But still... I appreciate that my favorite teacher reached out to me and to all of my classmates. (Mostly, though, he was talking to me.)
My favorite teacher died this year. On John's birthday.
There's some kind of poetry in that.
Howard Safier
February 8, 1936–October 9, 2014
How beautiful and poignant. Thank you for sharing this Maia.
__________________
"Let me live in you..." ~ John Lennon
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