I wrote this on John's 75h birthday. Today he would be 80.
John Lennon came into my life when I was 6 years old. I was never in
love with him, the way I fell for Sir Paul. I didn't really like him,
either. He was always too angular, too prickly, too raspy. But John was
always a force to be reckoned with. A leader. Even as a little girl, I
knew The Beatles were really just two brilliantly talented guys and two
very lucky ones.
He influenced me. I loved the word play in his poetry. "No Flies on Frank" from In His Own Write still makes me laugh, even after all these years. "He took his head in his hands … and clubbed her."
I loved his political passion. "Power to the people, right on!" Some of his stunts for peace confused me then, and still do in retrospect, but I admired his commitment, anger and integrity.
I hated Yoko, and blamed drugs for their passion. I drink and I've done coke, but nothing more, because watching John and Yoko just get dirtier and messier and wackier had a greater impact on me than Nancy Reagan's "Just Say No" campaign.
So today he would have turned 75, if some crazy SOB hadn't been able to get his hands on a gun. And I miss him. I've been listening to my favorite John solo song, "Watching the Wheels." It speaks to me, more and more with time.
He might not have been my teen dream, but in my heart, he'll always be my family.
God bless you, John. Peace!