The Day They Shot John Lennon
Can you imagine Strawberry Fields forever?
Today is the anniversary of the day John Lennon was murdered. On this day NYPD is still on a manhunt for the person responsible for a very different assassination that happened in NYC midtown, a little more than a mile from the Dakota Building and Strawberry Fields. Both assassinations sparked conspiracy theories and only one drew massive sympathy. I guess that's the difference between a man who made millions from a company that held profits over patients and one who made millions by giving music, hope, joy, and love to millions. John Lennon was murdered the year before I was born. I grew up knowing this date and all about him. I wonder how gun laws in the U.S. have only become more liberal, and I often imagine a world without them. Traveling in the UK was the closest I have ever been to feeling a world with no guns.
If you have been to New York City and taken that trip to Strawberry Fields then you have most likely felt the impact that moment Dec 8, 1980 made on millions of people. The day that it happened a group of people gathered and held vigil in the park across the street from the Dakota Building, the area that would later become Strawberry Fields, and there was shock, horror, sadness, and connection. Playwright James McClure would take this moment and write a beautiful play called ‘The Day They Shot John Lennon’. Forty years after its debut playhouses around the world still perform this piece of American History. I performed in one of its productions over 20 years ago. I would love to perform it again.
Strawberry Fields has become a place where thousands of people visit daily. Many are just passing through, many stop to get a picture next to the iconic tile work IMAGINE, some stop to sing a song or two with musicians who play from sunrise to sunset, some drop flowers or an offering, and everyone feels the magic there. I try to stop by whenever I am in the city. My most recent visit in November was probably the most magical one yet. The park was so beautiful in Autumn. Orange and yellow leaves, with some beginning to fall, decorated the backdrops. People were out in their early winter clothes. There was a buzz going around Central Park. Everything was vibrating.
As I made my way through the park I observed and talked to so many different kinds of people, from all over the world as well as New York and other parts of New England. As I stepped into Strawberry Fields a different energy hit me. Music was playing, everyone was smiling like and felt familiar, and I had my own soundtrack because the song #9 Dream started as my feet approached the tiles, and began to look for a seat. That’s when I heard him, “Hey, there you are. You made it. I saved you a seat.” I saw the friendliest blue eyes smiling at me and said, “Thank you” as I sat down. At that moment I knew I made a new friend. His name was Michael and he was a fisherman. One look at his hands could and anyone would know that he worked with them. They were beautifully aged and carved in a way that only decades of labor can shape.
Michael and I talked like old friends and I think meeting in a common space like that can offer people the common ground needed to feel familiar. He is a fisherman who lives on the ocean in Connecticut. He told me he was in his seventies and works six days a week. On most Sundays, he gets up, has coffee with the paper, eats breakfast, and then heads to the train station in New Haven to hop a train to NYC then over to Strawberry Fields. What a chance meeting for me to have with him. It was a reminder of how you can find a friend anywhere if you are open to it. I sat next to him as Paulina Butterfly (perfect name) sang Imagine. Everyone there joined in, I was looking up at the trees, around at all the faces, and at my new friend. We both sang with tears soaking our cheeks. You may say I’m a dreamer, but after this visit, I know that I’m not the only one.
So, after spending some time singing along with the musicians who were there to play in tribute and for their supper I said goodbye and left. But, not before I gave Michael my information and asked him to stay in touch. He called me last week and it was one of the best calls I have had in a while—phone calls are medicine. Stop using them to fight over bills or yell at telemarketers, and call people you love. We all need each other and Strawberry Fields forever.
“I’m just sitting here watchin the wheels go round and round. I really love to watch them roll.”
Here is a picture of my friend Michael.
Thank you guys for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. I have another Substack for the Shotgun Shack Kitties(Here). The book is on sale on Amazon. You can still purchase here. If you are in New Orleans and need a massage go ahead and book here. Also, if you are in New Orleans there is a concert series at St.Louis Cathedral on Wednesdays sponsored by French Quarter Festival, from 6-7pm for the next three weeks. Admission is free, but arrive early so that you can get a seat. More information is here.