Sentimental Accidents

Don’t Wake the Kids

By the time the news of John Lennon’s death broke I was already asleep. My parents, sometimes woke me up to watch TV with them but not that night. Usually they woke me because there was a particularly good Star Trek or Odd Couple rerun on but on this night they let me sleep. It’s easier to explain space travel and divorce than it is to explain death. A month earlier they had also let me sleep as Regan was elected president.

The next morning my mother woke me up and sat me down on the couch to talk.  Weeks earlier, while combing my hair she asked:

“Do you know who the President is?”

“Jimmy Carter”

“That’s right, but he’s not going to be the President any more.”

I stopped fidgeting long enough to ask:

“Can I stay home from school?”

My mother said no and proceeded to tell me about the electoral process but I was uninterested. All I heard was: “Blah…blah..Ronald Regan…go to the bus stop.”

I did, and for the next eight years I blamed Regan for the fact that I hated school.

Now, a month later my mother was again trying to explain a complex and tragic situation to a six year old.

“Do you know who the John Lennon is?”

“He’s your favorite Beatle”

“That’s right, but something bad happened to him last night.”

I stopped fidgeting long enough to ask:

“Can I stay home from school?”

“Yes.”

She said some other things but I only heard that I could stay home from school. Later, when the music was playing and no one was saying a word, I began to understand.