Blasphemy! Referencing a Paul song as the title to a post about John. Meh. Sod off.
Today is December 8th, and though December 7th is more often knows as “a date that shall live in infamy” (Pearl Harbor…read a book some time), 60+ years later, it doesn’t mean so much to us as December 8th: The day John Lennon died.
My initial intent to go into the City today was to see an exhibit of John’s artwork on display, but while I was going in, I couldn’t just not go to Strawberry Fields (John’s Central Park memorial, across the street from his home at the Dakota, where he was killed), so that got immediately tacked onto the agenda. I never made it to the art show because my day somehow got busier and busier, but my trip to Strawberry Fields was better than any art show could have been (especially one where Yoko had autographed John’s artwork…WTF?)
When George and I entered Central Park at 72nd St and Central Park West, we heard nothing. But as we got closer, we started to hear the singing. It was very dim, as if the 100 people crowded around the 8 or so acoustic guitar players were singing under their breath, afraid to be heard.
I had considered bringing my guitar as a fleeting thought, but once I got there, and saw all the guitar players, I was so glad I hadn’t: I was so incredibly out of my league…these guys knew EVERY song! We quickly worked our way to the front of this mess, and parked ourselves on a bench in the midst of the musicians.
George and I were there for maybe an hour and a quarter (though I would have stayed all day if I could have). I was singing all the harmonies and backing vocals (i.e. “Bang, bang, shoo-oo-oop shoop”) at the top of my lungs. Before long, there were maybe 300 people, and the singing was so much louder as people had become comfortable with themselves and with their neighbors, and were embracing the moment (even George started humming and singing the occasional refrain). With so many voices, it was like a choir where everyone had decided which part they wanted to sing, and each vocal line could be heard throughout the crowd like one living entity (think: the recording of “Give Peace A Chance”).
Before we headed off, I turned to George and said, “This is what music is all about and should always be like: Lots of people, getting together, playing songs together, singing together, connecting and being happy.” It was the best way I could think of to remember John Lennon. I’ll be going back every year. Next year, you’re coming with me.
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