I had read A Song for Bijou, another title by Josh Farrar and decided to pick this particular book up because I like how Farrar introduces elements of Caribbean diasporic culture into his works. This book deals with a sixth grader named Annabelle who has recently moved from Brooklyn,...
On December 8, 1980, John Lennon died in front of his Manhattan home.
It was the first "Kennedy moment" in my life, a memory that still seems fresh, almost like it happened yesterday. My ritual of falling asleep while listening to an old-school "digital" clock radio (the one with the rotating flat panels for each number), was jarringly interrupted by the breaking news that John Lennon had been shot in New York City. I leapt out of bed, ran downstairs, and stood motionless in front of the TV as Howard Cosell, on Monday Night Football, announced that John Lennon was dead. One of my heroes had been murdered, and it simply did not make any sense.
Paul McCartney was in town for a riveting show that was a collection of hits from his long career, with a heavy emphasis on Beatles' tunes.
So what's not to like about that? Well, to be honest, I never thought I'd see Paul in concert since I don't see many big shows anymore, considered myself a "John guy," never really liked Wings, and haven't kept up with Paul's current catalog of music. But I have loved the Beatles since I was a very young child, and now my oldest son carries the Fab Four torch, making it clear to me often that he really wanted to see a Beatle. So I thought, what better birthday present for an eleven-year-old boy who loves music?