I was only 12, a huge new Beatles fan and was convinced they would someday soon get back together. They had to. I didn't know everything about them, but that much I understood. They would get back together. They would.
And then my Mom walked down the hallway as I was brushing my teeth on a dreary Tuesday morning and told me John Lennon had been shot and killed the night before in New York City.
Sad as I was, I don't think I could have possibly comprehended how big a loss this was. I'm still not sure I do.
Nor do I understand how John was never really in love with his singing voice. Sure, maybe being around Paul McCartney and that wondrous voice can be intimidating as hell, but anyone who can sing like this really doesn't need to feel inferior to anyone.
John Winston Ono Lennon. Gone 34 years ago today. One more thing I don't think I will ever, ever understand.
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