On the 30th anniversary of John Lennon’s death I was in New York so we made our way to the part of Central Park across from the Dakota where Strawberry Fields is, the memorial to the former Beatle. It was covered with hundreds of flowers and a large “peace” sign had been formed out of votive candles.
Many hundreds of people were gathered paying homage to him. They were of all ages and many races were represented. Several had guitars and were signing his songs and smiling as lyrics were prayed into the sky.
I remember wondering that this is what it must have looked like after Jesus was crucified. His followers continued to collect telling his stories and singing his songs and remembering. Perhaps it is better stated as Re-membering him; putting it all back together again.
Then we turned to leave and literally ran into Yoko Ono who was coming to pay her own homage to her late husband. She was dressed all in black and was hugged tightly by body guards. Her head was down and I swear that she was crying. We snapped a picture and stepped aside.
Like many people, the Beatles changed the way I thought about most everything. They introduced me to the world in a way that was relevant, unlike Sunday School lessons about ancient Israel where everyone wore robes and threw rocks. John, Paul, George and Ringo gave me my first lessons in love, lust, longing, and losing what you love.
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
The only Beatle that I ever saw was George Harrison during his American concert tour. We all hopped in broken down car and made our way to Atlanta, somehow got tickets with little money, hobnobbed with the Hare Krishna’s and were blown away as the first cords of “What is Life?” opened the show. Throughout the concert, George kept mixing religions so that Krishna gave way to Jesus who bowed out to Buddha.
My Sweet Lord! What was happening? And if you listen to that song as he did it at the “Concert for Bangladesh or at his last concert in Japan, he did it again. It still makes me shiver as he calls all of the known names for God out one after the other to end the song.
“In My Life, there are places I remember…” John sang.
“Yesterday,” Paul chimed in.
“All things must pass,” George answered.
I’ve always been mindful of the passing of things; the milestones of life; leaving home for college; my children leaving home for college; leaving Louisville where I first started the journey to become an adult (I know…many will question that!); leaving my first marriage because I knew that it was time to go only to then be left because she knew it was time to go thereby teaching me both heaven and hell; leaving Union Mission after more than two decades which was long over due.
Watching the crowd at Strawberry Fields that day, they were doing their best to make it like it was. Clapping and hugging or stoically standing there, singing old songs to the tops of their lungs, trying to make it the way that it used to be.
But there’s no going back. If we do all that we find “is old speck house and plywood,” (James Taylor was the first act signed by Apple, so this is a fair inclusion). As much as we may try there is no reconstructing the past or no changing it for the better or the worse.
So what is done is done. It all helped us to get to who we are and where we are, but it is done, never to be much anything more than a memory or a story for the rest of our lives.
The only thing that matters is now and what we plan to do next. That is what I’m trying to do. Or if I can say it as John did, it is my time to …
Imagine.
