Twisted History points out that today is the anniversary of the murder of John Lennon.

Upon a little reflection, I realize that I have four “where I was when I heard it” moments:

  • I was lying on the couch (she called it a Davenport) at my grandma’s when I heard John had been shot.
  • I was in the school van waiting to be taken back to class after swimming lessons when I heard Reagan had been shot.
  • I was in the school library playing chess when I heard the Challenger had blown up.
  • I was checking in with some of my employees at work when I heard that an airplane, probably a little single-engine job, had accidentally crashed into the World Trade Center one Tuesday morning.

I’m sure, if I spent any time thinking about it, I could come up with many more. But the fact that I don’t have to spend any time thinking tells me that those four are the “real” ones for me.

Goo goo ga joob, John.


  1. It was twenty three years ago today… I was twenty four years old. The primary reality of my day to day existance was the universal collision of youthful ideals and the harsh realities of real life. I had a ‘good’ job that I hated