I listened to Lennon's last BBC interview with Andy Peebles. I read the Rolling Stone tribute issue that told me how my hero's last word was "yeah." I remember watching Elton John singing "Empty Garden." I remember listening to Paul's tribute "Here Today." But nothing really helped in a murder as senseless as this one. Nothing, sad to say, but the passing of time.
Almost 30 years later, I still can't believe what happened that cold night in December 1980. But tonight, I will kiss my 6-year-old daughter goodnight under the sign on her wall that reads "All You Need Is Love." Then I'll be listening to Lennon on my iPod when I walk a few blocks over to 72nd Street and Central Park West. When I reach the Dakota, I'll keep pushing my iPod's button until "Merry Xmas (War is Over)" starts playing in my ears.
It's ironic that Joe doesn't understand Lennon would Joe's Republican positions on everything distasteful at best, and appalling at worst.
Like so many self-centered people, Joe's concern is not what the music actually meant, but only what it meant to him. Joe should have listened more to John's words: