Imagine

Today is the 25th anniversary of John Lennon's death. He died days after I'd turned six, and my mother asked me to help her remember him with a half-hour of silence. (I think it may have been less time, but it certainly seemed like hours to my six year-old self.) And I don't know if she was simply tired of my incessant chatter and wanted a moment's peace or rather, wished to impart to me her own sadness at his death, and at the loss of a remarkable someone larger than life yet simultaneously very human. We had lost a neat person, as I may have put it then.

On the way to work I heard two remakes of "Happy Christmas: War is Over," and I started crying a little at one of them. War is over, if we want it. What a revolutionary thought, right? He makes it sound so easy. As if we could wish it and it becomes so. But it might be. Another Christmas and what have we done, but war can indeed be over ... if only we have the temerity, the guts, to really want it. That's the message I want to leave with anyone reading this today. We humans haven't lost our capacity to dream and to make our dreams become reality. There's still that much.

Over and out, John. Thanks for the music.