Jim Walsh, over at CityPages, asks where were you when John Lennon was murdered? I was hanging out in front of a friend’s house, about a block or so from home. It was a warm night (December in Texas, you gotta love it) and we were standing around listening to the radio blasting from his Pacer.
I remember thinking it was damned shame, but I also remember not being that affected. Lennon didn’t belong to my generation. We were caught up in the punk scene and the impending NWOBHM movement and Lennon didn’t seem that relevant.
Oh, to be that young and stupid again.
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