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The Beatles, That old Rickenbacker & Remembering John Lennon
December 8, 1980 - December 8, 2005

December 8, 1980 was a day I haven't yet forgotten. I thought I had gotten over my obsession with the Beatles, thought I had moved onto more sophisticated music, you know, music of our times, (my post baby boomer generation). But, obsessions never die, they just go underground or hide in some old brain cells that we think we won't be using any longer. But on today, the 25th anniversary of the night John Lennon was shot and died, I feel an overwhelming sadness. That was also the day my childhood died and it was the day when my innocence turned to cynicism.

I was born in 1964, the year the Beatles crossed the Atlantic and toured the United States. Of course, I was only an infant at the time. I only enjoyed the Beatles music and strange screaming fans through osmosis. But then, I was doing a lot of screaming myself at that stage, mostly for changing of diapers or food-on-demand. As the Beatles career morphed from Elvis-style rock n' roll, to Dylan folk, psychedelic and post psychedelic, I also morphed from infant, toddler to grade school. The Beatles music heard on a pop-rock radio station was the soundtrack of my youth, it was wallpaper, it was the fruit of my subconscious and a budding passion for music and at that time, for rock music in particular.

By the time, I reached junior high school, I had all, but forgotten about the Beatles, except for Paul McCartney who led his band, Wings. During my first years of high school, I had very little interests in music. Then one day, when I was around 16 years old, I heard a Beatles song on the radio. I can't recall which song, but it took me back to my early childhood. I felt safe and at home, like returning to an old and familiar place, most likely my crib where I first heard the Beatles. Then, I heard another Beatles song, and another, leading me along with others to hope that the Beatles would reunite. After all, the Who and the Rollingstones were still recording and touring so why couldn't the Beatles do the same? Some people said it could never happen while others argued that the spats were over between John, Paul, Ringo and George, that there was a truce. Then on the fateful, December 8, 1980, that dream died along with John Lennon.

I was sitting with my mother and sister in the living room watching a favorite weekly program, when suddenly, news anchors came on to interrupt regular programming and bring us the message that

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