I had been a radio disc jockey for nearly 10 years, when on a crisp Monday evening in Seattle, 1980, the news came through the radio speakers of my car. "John Lennon has been shot..."From that moment on, my memory seems a kaleidoscopic blur. Went home, slept fitfully. Got up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Went to work still not wanting to believe--just hours ago, John Lennon had breathed his last.
Shot by a psycho killer with a hand gun.
The station program director came into the studio to make sure that I knew one thing was expected of me--play lots of Lennon and Beatles music. Don't talk much and play lots of it. Lots and lots of it. To celebrate Lennon's creative life; to drown out my own mournful wail at the death of my childhood idol; to honor the Working Class Hero.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. My idol, I'm not afraid to say it now, more precisely, my inspiration. Spiritual guide to a greater awareness and good humor. He once nick-named himself "Dr. Winston O'Boogie."
I'm sure he knew how he had affected his listeners and peers. We were all one. In the joy of the music, album after album, as the sounds grew in sophistication, moving from the socially active Sixties to the spiritually active Seventies. On a parallel with my own growing anti-war awareness.
He showed us how he did what he did. Seems to me, he encouraged us all to do what we could do for a more peaceful world filled with the best music possible. Just imagine.
You can still do that, can't you? Sphere: Related Content
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