because it's today

It was a Tuesday morning, December 9, 1980. I was waking up and not looking forward to school (10th grade). I usually slept with the radio on all night, tuned to WIFI 92 in Philadelphia, so I thought I was dreaming when I heard the DJ say that John Lennon had been shot. But my eyes were open.

Above me, on the wall at the right hand side of the bed was a mural, lovingly painted by my mother, of the Beatles. It's there now in that same room in the house where my parents still live. The radio station went to a commercial break without the DJ saying whether John was dead. I jumped from the bed and threw the door open to see my younger brother, Frank, sitting down to breakfast.

"Some asshole shot John Lennon," I told him as I ran to the front door.

The paper, sitting there in the fresh snow with his picture looking up at me told the story. He was dead.

It was twenty five years ago. It was today.

Imagine all the people livin' life in peace, you...
You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope some day you'll join us
And the world will be as one.

NPR has three stories today about Lennon. Listen to them here, here, and here.

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