Imagine
Tuesday, April 4, 2023 Entry #72
As the great band R.E.M. sang, “Leaving New York never easy.” Fortunately, my flight home was somewhat late in the day and I was nearby, so it struck me to check out to Strawberry Fields, a section of Central Park dedicated to John Lennon. It consists of a garden with flora donated from throughout the world, and the “Imagine” mosaic pictured above. The site is just off 72nd Street directly across from the Dakota building where Lennon lived and where he was ultimately assassinated on December 8, 1980.
It felt quite fitting to visit Strawberry Fields in light of the great rock ‘n’ roll weekend I had just experienced. Lennon and the rest of the Beatles basically breathed life into the music and counter-culture scene that would animate and empower Bruce Springsteen and so many others, including yours truly. Springsteen speaks with awe and gratitude about the first time he “laid ears” on the Beatles when he heard “I Want to Hold Your Hand” on the radio as a teen. He recalls thinking to himself excitedly, “Why did it sound so different? Why was it so good?” It was the sound that set Springsteen on his incredible path to preaching the “ministry of rock ‘n’ roll from the highest levels. It was also not lost on me that one of those Beatles, Paul McCartney, had just attended Springsteen’s Madison Square Garden concert a few days ago. Even at the age of 74, a superstar in his own right, knowing that a Beatle is now a Bruce Springsteen fan must still be a mind-blowing experience for the Boss.
I had been to Strawberry Fields before, but because of all of the above thoughts and feelings swimming inside of me, this was a particularly poignant excursion. When I first arrived, it was just me and this old hippie strumming Beatles songs on his acoustic guitar. I stood in the center of the Imagine mosaic reflecting, meditating, singing along, taking it all in. Then, a large school group arrived. At first I admit that I was slightly annoyed at the intrusion. I stepped aside for the kids to have a look around. Their teacher started telling the kids about Lennon, the Beatles, and the 60’s, and the old hippie piped up with some of his own stories and reflections. I told the group about how I had worn a black armband to my high school and attended vigils in Chicago in the days after Lennon died. We all sang some Beatles songs together. The kids seemed engaged.
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Suddenly, I was filled with hope. I remembered a similar scene a few years back when I visited the new Bob Dylan Center in Tulsa, Oklahoma. There I witnessed a group of day camp kids touring the museum with their counselors. I was witnessing an actual rock ‘n’ roll field trip! I sometimes wonder what will happen to the vibe of the 1960’s, the positive aspects of that renowned decade-peace, love, feeling free, communalism, groovy music and all of that. I am glad there are all kinds of folks dedicated to passing on that particular torch. It will manifest itself with new expressions for new generations, but my brief Strawberry Fields visit gave me more confidence that the 60’s spirit that has come to mean so much to me will not fade away. I thought about the plans for the future Bruce Springsteen Archives Center (see Entry #65) and the young people who will be inspired there and get pumped when they hear a recording of Springsteen singing with rebellious abandon, “We busted out of class, had to get away from those fools. We learned more from a three-minute record then we ever learned in school!”
Leaving New York is never easy. Strangely though, I was here in the city during each of the New York events I have referenced in my most recent blog posts. I was living in New York when police officers fired 41 shots at Amadou Diallo, and I happened to be visiting when Al Qaeda terrorists attacked the World Trade Center Towers on 9/11. Believe it or not, I was also in Manhattan on the day John Lennon was killed. In December 1980, I was in high school (and had just recently seen Springsteen for the very first time), and I was in New York City from my hometown in suburban Chicago with classmates and our advisor-chaperone for a Model United Nations conference for students from all over the country. My friend Scott (with whom I attended that first Bruce concert) and I managed to break away from the proceedings and spend time in Greenwich Village, the epicenter of New York counter-culture. I know for sure that I pictured myself that day as a jean-jacketed Bob Dylan or a leather-coated Bruce Springsteen tripping around the lively streets, ready for any “happening” that I might encounter. It wasn’t until we all flew home and I turned on “Monday Night Football” that I learned about the murder of John Lennon outside his own apartment building in Central Park West. The shooting death had occurred at around the same time we were leaving New York.
All the newscasters used one of Lennon’s own songs in such a painful way the next day, proclaiming that “the dream is over.” But, as awful a blow as was the death of 60’s icon, peacenik, and Beatle John Lennon, I saw once again today at Strawberry Fields that the dream has been carried forward and lives on still.