"All the great peacemakers die violently"
John Lennon
I was 15 years old on Dec. 8th, 1980, when I heard the news, and officially left my childhood behind. I remember falling against my bedroom wall, then to my knees, sobbing. I understood the significance and gravitas of the situation, and I cried. I cried not just for His death, but I cried because knew I was experiencing the death of my own innocence. I cried because I knew my ability to comprehend that loss meant I was no longer a child. Now, it was time to "put away childish things." It was my first genuine experience of deep, existential dread. I understood that it was the end of an era. It wasn't simply my own innocence that was lost, but that of a generation. I cried for the Hippie's naive futility. How appropriate that His death heralded the cynicism of the Punk Rock that at that very time was replacing Flower Power, even on my own turntable. I understood the complex, abstract concept of irony; how a man who epitomised peace and love could be taken down through an act of such violence. I came to understand so many harsh realities that night. It was my first official "dark night of the soul". I understood that maybe ignorance IS bliss. Most importantly, I came to understand that "love might NOT be the answer".
But it HAS to be...RIGHT?!
Please..?
Perhaps it's time to pose a different question.
John Lennon "Mind Games"
