Quinn asked me to load some Beatles on his iPad recently and I finally had a moment to do it this morning. He has been really into Here Comes the Sun and chose this song as our first tune of the day. Not a bad way to start a Sunday, I’d say.
As the music was playing sweetly, Quinn mentioned that every day he thinks about George Harrison and John Lennon being dead and he gets angry. Well, as he said, not really about George because it wasn’t his fault that he got sick, but the thing about John? That made him really upset. Why did that guy have to shoot him?
Quinn asked me when John was killed – what year? I’m sure that 1980 sounded like a million years ago to my boy, but I continued my remembrances of that time (freshman year of high school) by telling him that the man who shot Lennon was still in prison for committing that crime. He was outraged – “Why wasn’t he executed, Mom? How could he have done that to John Lennon?”
How do I respond to that? How does one explain the precarious relationship between the emergence of sunshine, the death of an idol and a life spent behind bars? Oh, Beautiful Boy, where would I begin?