I was away at college when I heard John Lennon was shot and killed in New York. On Christmas break my girlfriend and I went back to New York City, where I had grown up – we were doing the “we’re serious now, so I guess we have to meet the parents” routine. We flew into New York and checked in at my mom’s house. Of course, we had to go to Sheeps Meadow (now renamed Strawberry Fields Forever) for the memorial service for John…I remember it being cold and blustery – I remember snow…Teresa doesn’t. Acres and acres of grass, but not a place was empty. People crying, wiping eyes, hugging strangers. I remember everyone arm in arm, moving in time to an unspoken rhythm, singing along…then being silent. In 18 years of growing up in New York, I don’t think I ever heard a silence like that. The helicopter overhead lent an eerie “wupa wupa wupa” to the whole thing. I remember Yoko speaking, but I can’t remember if there were any other speakers – it seems more powerful that way so maybe I just remembered it like that. It was truly an “only in New York” moment.
I have a 10 year old son and we’ve done the traditional New York Christmas things – the tree in Rockefeller Center, seeing the Empire State Building lit up in red and green, FAO Schwartz (of course!), the carriage rides around Central Park. But I truly wish I could transport him back to the day when New York came out to remember John Lennon – the man and the music – to show him just how special New York City is. That is my New York City Christmas memory.
