Thirty years ago today, John Lennon was killed, gunned down by a delusional fan in front of his apartment building in Manhattan.
Thirty years ago today, I remember Big Sis E watching the news in the evening, a very grave expression on her face.
“John Lennon was assassinated,” she said to me.
My 5-year-old brain tried to process that information. “What does ‘assassinated’ mean?” I asked.
“It means someone killed him.”
“Oh.” I remember watching the news with her for a bit, not really comprehending what I was seeing. Finally, I asked, “Who’s John Lennon?”