It’s easy if you try

I was nine years old when John Lennon died; I had no idea, really, who he was when I first heard the name. I remember hearing the news on the radio as I was driven to school the next morning. I knew nothing then about him or The Beatles. And ultimately, since I didn’t start loving his music (and the rest of ’em) until just a couple of years ago, he’d really been dead 28 years before he came to mean something to me.

So, in a way, John Lennon is, to me, not unlike Berlioz or Wagner or Mozart: a dead artist whose work came to mean something to me when he was already gone. That’s not intended to be any kind of deep statement, just a thought….

Imagine.

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