Today is the seventy-second anniversary of the birth of John Lennon. He only lived to be a skosh older than forty, but the ripples in the pond of this world from the solitary pebble of his life will continue far beyond the years of mine and, I would hope, yours as well.
If you have an even casual relationship with popular music then you know who the Beatles were, and the power of the music they created, directly and indirectly. If all John Lennon had ever done was The Beatles, he would still be a pre-eminent presence in the pantheon of pop, but his work as a solo musician and as a public figure helped redefine the way we look at and think about public personalities.
I am not alone in describing the music he made and helped make as the soundtrack to my life. If you think I'm being dogmatic in my devotion to his music because I am old, perhaps you are correct and I should apologize, not for belief but for your stupidity. And, believe me, you are; and I'm not sorry to say that about you.
Even as a small child I have always had difficulty imagining this world without my being in it-when I try to imagine this life without without the music of John Lennon, I'm very sure I wouldn't want to be here. The purpose of art is to conceal art, while also celebrating it. Almost nothing else matters but the celebration of who we are, and the forms such a celebration can, and often does, take.
“When I was 5 years old, my mother told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down ‘happy’. They told me I didn’t understand the assignment, and I told them they didn’t understand life.”
Happy Birthday, John Lennon.
-bill kenny
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