Tomorrow Never Knows

12 years old, confirmed Beatlemaniac. One-headphone-over-an-ear-to-sing-harmonies Beatlemaniac. Beatles Forever book is the bible (still have it). The Christmas singles? Python before Python. Memorized. One New Year’s Eve, I watched TV while mom partied with the other grown-ups in another room. Hard Day’s Night, Help, and Yellow Submarine played back to back to back. It was heaven on earth.

December 8th is a school day. Mom comes into the room. “Honey, I’m so sorry. John Lennon died.” I say nothing, and turn on the TV. The earth explodes. The reunion is dead. Numb silence as I watch grown men cry on the street, as the crowds grow, as the songs get louder. “You can skip school if you want and come with me to the city,” Mom says. I opt out: my friends, the other freaks, the Beatle impersonators, the detail-nerd jokers, they’re at school. That’s where we’ll stare at the ground, still not comprehending, but at least we’ll do it together. Still, my mother’s offer meant the world to me. Number 1 on the list of Good Things Mom Did For Me. Parents, take note.

Sorry if I’ve told this story before. Sorry because I’ll tell it again.

I was only 5. I was watching a Berenstain Bears Xmas special on tv and noticed my mom was crying and asked her why. Weird that I even remember that.