February, ’64. First grade. Ed Sullivan.
Paul was cute, but John was smart.
I followed his antics, his music and his opinions. Some ridiculous, some classic. Usually the polar opposite of how I was being raised.
He fascinated me.
So did Yoko. I may have been the only one who saw what John saw in her back then. You couldn’t have one without the other. I wanted to climb up that white ladder and see “Yes” on the ceiling.
It was easy to be idealistic, then.
Today I won’t imagine that there is no heaven and I can’t imagine there is no hell. I have something to kill and die for, the protection of my country – I won’t imagine the alternative.
I grew up.
On December 8, 2000 I walked the floor with my five-month-old daughter and cried.
The photo in the Life magazine above is from what John called his “fat-Elvis” period around the time that “Help!” was shot. Not a happy time in his life, apparently, but I love that picture.
I wonder what John would have had to say about all that is going on today.
We gave peace a chance. The other side didn’t get the memo.