Twenty five years ago, I walked out of Woodrow Wilson elementary school in my beloved pink jacket trimmed in fake shearling ( I got that jacket the year before in the" Christmas that Almost Wasn't". But that's a different story for a different day.) and was surprised that my mother had come to pick me up from school. I pulled open the door of her black, boxy Honda Prelude and was further surprised to see her crying. Sobbing really. Q: "Mommy, What's wrong?" A: "Jonn Lennon is dead!!!!!" On that cold December day, I was eight years old. I didn't know anyone that had died yet. I know my mother didn't cry like that when she was divorcing my father a few years earlier. This display of emotion was so raw. I think in a way, that is the day that my childhood started to slip away. I realized that bad things happen for no good reason. Sometimes to people that are loved so much, even strangers feel their loss. After my parents got divorced, I never felt like I had my mother's full attention. We moved in with my grandparents in their rambling ranch on Locust Avenue. Mom was never there. She was working or partying with her friends.They giggle and called her car the Honda Qualude. I remember she missed my sister's birthday to go to a Styx concert. She loved music so much. She would sit me down and force me to listen to records, quizzing me about what instrument just came in on a Genesis track. She taught me how to sing in harmony with Emmy Lou Harrris. We had loads of records. Beatles and the Stones, Fleetwood Mac, Steely Dan, Springsteen, Genesis, Joni Mitchell, Phoebe Snow, James Taylor, Jim Croce, Tom Petty, Leon Redbone, Randy Newman. Hundreds of records. Her dream of being a concert pianist were sidelined when she had me at seventeen and through the years she often made me feel like she regretted my existence. My relationship with mother has been strained over the years but things have improved. As I've grown up and so has she. As a child, I didn't understand the hold music had over her. I remember her staying up late, headphones on, singing to herself. Loudly. Her voice thick with emotion and too much beer. I began to hate her music. Then I got a little older and found music of my own. Music that became my salvation. I began to understand that music is one of the things that joins us together beyond our shared DNA. And that comforts me. This was really supposed to be about the impact of Lennon and The Beatles on my life. But I digressed.Sometimes one memory triggers a whole string of others. Let's close with my memories of listening to hours on end of programming on WNEW, singing along, my pigtails swinging. As a little girl, I loved "I Want to Hold Your Hand, "Octopus's Garden," "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds," and When I'm Sixty-Four." I may have pulled away from much of my mother's music as my tastes developed but I never stopped loving The Beatles. My favorite Beatles song right now is "In My Life." It speaks to where I am now. I heard it on the radio a few months ago and it moved me to tears it was so appropriate to what I was going through at the time and having trouble articulating. Thank goodness, John Lennon said it first. In My Life There are places I remember All my life, though some have changed, Some forever, not for better, Some have gone and some remain. All these places had their moments, With lovers and friends I still can recall, Some are dead and some are living, In my life I've loved them all. But of all these friends and lovers, There is no one compared with you, And these mem'ries lose their meaning When I think of love as something new. Though I know I�ll never lose affection For people and things that went before, I know I'll often stop and think about them In my life I love you more. Though I know I'll never lose affection For people and things that went before, I know I'll often stop and think about them In my life I love you more. In my life I love you more.