I was in my early 20s, sitting in my Oldsmobile on a blacktopped parking lot, listening to the radio, and savoring a few minutes before punching the time clock prior to my shift at the factory. Looking back, it seems fitting that a disc jockey would break the news to me. It was foreign. Shocking. Unthinkable.
I have no memory of what happened earlier on that day or leaving my shift at 7AM the following morning. But I do remember sitting in that parking lot on that cold dark night and crying when I heard that John Lennon had been killed. Imagine suddenly meant something bigger than it ever had before.
It’s thirty-one years later and I believe in that peace thing more than I ever have.