No hell below us, above us only sky

Allow me to introduce you to this week's Flashback prompt:

Where were you when...?
Our parents' generation can recall exactly what they were doing when JFK was shot - it's a cultural moment that defines a generation. What big cultural event occurred during your childhood/youth that you recall clearly, if juvenile-ly? What was its impact on you?

Oh the possibilities.

I remember the Challenger explosion, when Reagan was shot, and when MTV, CNN, and HBO each launched. I remember the oil crisis of the 70s, when the Berlin Wall fell in the 80s, and vividly recall fighting to stay awake into the wee small hours of the morning to watch the spectacle of Prince Charles and Lady Diana's royal wedding.

In other words, I'm old as crap.

But the cultural moment from my childhood that I remember most vividly was John Lennon's death.

I was ten years old and sitting in my fifth grade classroom that December morning when my teacher announced that Lennon had been shot and killed the night before. I think her plan was to craft from his death some kind of "teachable moment." Yes, death is inexplicable and often unexpected, children. We cannot always make sense of it, but we can honor the life of the person who died by remembering them. Ashes to ashes, circle of life, we return to the soil from whence we came. Now let's all hold hands and have a moment of silence and blah blah blah empty clichéd sentiments BLAH.

Not that I blame her for trying. Sometimes the only thing holding us upright and keeping us from being flooded with torrents of incomprehensible black terror is the safety of cliché and well-worn sentiment. Dust to dust, amen.

But unlike a lot of other kids my age, I was a fan. No, wait, not just a fan. That word is much too small, too mild.

I grew up in rooms filled with John Lennon's music, cherishing my parent's old Beatles albums the way my daughter loves the stuffed dog friend she drags with her everywhere we go, its faux fur so drenched to the follicles with her life experience that even a good soaking can't wrench the crusts of her memories from it. I remember being five years old and roller skating in our garage to "Abbey Road." I remember at seven wearing deep grooves in the absurdly thick vinyl of their third LP "Something New," and later, at age nine, passionately fixating on Lennon's 50s throwback solo album "Rock 'n' Roll" and it's timeless, jangly pop. I wasn't just a fan, and I didn't just love The Beatles. Rather, The Beatles were, for all intents and purposes, the very substance and spirit of music to me as a child.

After hearing from my teacher about what had happened, the rest of the day was gray and jittery, like the projection of a mangled old thirty-five millimeter reel. Something in the world had shaken loose. I'd never lost anyone close to me before, no family or friend had ever died during my lifetime, and so I had no reference points to make sense of what I was feeling. Really, it was death -- its mystery and its frightening permanence -- that was rattling around in my skullcase, making the world shudder. My ten year old brain just couldn't get a handle on it. I barely spoke a word the rest of the day.

At three o'clock I shuffled home from school alone, following the wide dirt footpath that ran from my grade school out into a vast Colorado prairie, pockmarked by countless prairie dog mounds and scraggly tufts of spent Indian grass. In the distance, I could make out the first peaked roofs of our nascent housing development, and beyond that the immutable Rocky Mountains, smothered in December clouds heavy with snow.

I don't recall crying, though I know that I felt like crying. Instead I stopped and gazed back in silence at the trail behind me, at the bridge over the creek edging school property I'd crossed, shadowed by a dark ribbon of trees at its banks. The path I'd taken, and the whole of the physical world around me, seemed to sag perceptibly under some heavy but invisible weight. It was the same weight, I guessed, that I'd felt pulling at the contents of my chest all day long, tugging my insides ever more insistently downward, back to the dirt beneath my feet.

What cultural moment from your childhood left its mark on you?

. . . . . 

Other fine ladies participating in this week's flashback:

Her Bad Mother: http://www.badladies.blogspot.com
Whoorl: http://whoorl.com
Oh The Joys: http://othejoys.blogspot.com
Mamalogues: http://mamalogues.com/
Mrs. Flinger: http://mrs.flinger.us/

Comments

[Tracy]

Beautiful post. I was in fifth grade when it happened too, also raised on Beatles music. I remember that my friend Pete and I had been trying to start our own newspaper at that time. Our entire first issue of the "Edison Informer" was devoted to our love of John Lennon, which few of our peers seemed to share.
Thanks for taking me back.

[sweetney]

Tracy: excellent name, though i think you misspelled it ;)

glad to hear another decrepit old lady like me shares those memories. his music made a huge, huge impression on my life.

[BaltimoreGal]

I was also a fan and he had always been my favorite Beatle. My brothers and I actually wore my dad's Beatle records out. And I loved John's later stuff. "Imagine" used to make me cry. Still does, actually. I was seven when he died, and I didn't hear about it until my mom said something before we watched the news the next night (probably because I lived in Dalton, Georgia, not the most progressive place).

I was sad, for sure. And confused. I understood that people killed each other sometimes- my dad had been in war. At age 5 I had lost both an aunt who was very young and the only grandfather I knew. I understood death. But what I didn't, and will never, understand is how someone- even someone who is ill- can take another's life. I think that losing John Lennon, someone who was all about life and peace, was the beginning of my objections to the death penalty.

[Oh, The Joys]

I almost wrote about this too! I was babysitting, it was late at night, the kids were asleep and I was alone in the dark watching late night television. It freaked me right out.

[Andrea]

Being a bit younger than others posting here, this brought me back to the night Princess Di died. I was in high school, babysitting and watching tv. They broke in to the show I was watching to announce it. It was just so sad.

For me, it was 9/11 that changed my life. And I think that will be the answer for most of my generation. I was a sophomore in college, and an RA to a lot of kids from CT, NY and NJ. We couldn't reach any of their parents who worked in the city and it was generally a difficult day. After that, it was hard to be an RA.

[whoorl]

I think it's so strange that I vividly remember the launch of MTV in '81, but have no recollection of John Lennon's death a year before. I guess it's just the difference between 6 and 7 years old. (?)

[BaltimoreGal]

By the way I forgot to say this was written beautifully!

[denise]

When Mt. St.Helens erupted. I live in the N.W. and I was at my grandmother's house. Her yard was like 6 inches deep in ash. I remember being scared that the world was comming to an end, until my Dad re-assured me that was not so. Then playing in it like it had just snowed and how it stung my skin slightly to my surprise. And of course the challenger explosion, I was in the 4th grade and we were all writing letters to the teacher on board.

[Someone Being Me]

I'm a little younger so mine would have been the suicide of Kurt Cobain. I was 13 and it was all very tragic. It still makes me sad today. I am now the age he was when he died with a child only slightly younger than his was.

[Kim]

I remember when we invaded Iraq, the first time. I was married to the Air Force, and my daughter was just a baby. I was living in Texas, and I kept trying to call my parents in Missouri while watching CNN and the Scud Stud. They never answered and I was getting freaked out. I just needed to talk to my dad. I finally got him and he asked why I was upset, because it wasn't like we were being invaded. I guess I was upset because although I was a parent, I still needed my parent to tell me it would be all right.

[Her Bad Mother]

I was rattled by his death, too - it was the first 'celeb' death that had any impact, because I knew who he was. I knew his voice. It felt personal, and scary.

[Dana]

I know this feeling. I didn't even think to mention Kurt Cobain; I was a sophomore in high school and I retired my flannel. You get to know people so intimately through their music. I'm very envious of that medium.

[Gretchen]

Yes Lennon's death was a defining moment of my childhood too.... Maybe you can help me out - do you remember a radio or tv personality at that time coordinating everyone to have a moment of silence in Lennon's remembrance?. I missed the designated time (10am?) and an hour or so later asked my mom if it would be OK if I had my own moment of silence and if would make a difference. My mom being the cold hearted B that she was (is) said I guess so, so I proceeded to do some hard core 7 year old meditating. Very proud of myself.

[Chantel]

The Challenger Explosion as I was sitting in 8th grade algebra. We were watching it on TV. And 9/11. Of course those two things happened so far apart. But I will never forget the experience.

[Beck]

I remember when John Lennon was shot - it was announced on tv - and I was sitting in my parent's living room really upset because I'd really liked Jack Lemmon. I was an odd, odd kid.

[jodi]

It took me forever to remember where the quote in the title was from. Yeah, I'm pitiful.

[Michelle]

I guess I'm still fairly young, so 9/11 was it for me. I was 14 when it happened. O.O

[ozma]

Bizarrely, it was the Faulkland Island's War. The reason I remember this as a turning point is that I had this very peculiar interest (for a seventh grader) in war and did a lot of research on Vietnam. I had a horror of war. So it was the first war I sort of saw happening.

It's such a weird one. But I do some work on war now so it was kind of one of those early developmental stages.

[Bren]

For the longest time I've been splitting people into two groups. People who remember a time when mankind had never touched any other soil than Earth's and everyone else. Apollo 11 changed everything. It put effort and drive into a frame of reference for me when I was 8.

You can't be "old as crap" because you don't make the cut. Sorry. [.][.]

[Mrs. Flinger]

Wonderful entry, Tracey. Really, touching and vivid. And no way you're old as crap, babe. I'm pretty sure dinosaurs crapped. But maybe lucky enough to have something so influenced by your parents remains such a big portion of your memory. That I believe.

[Aimee Greeblemonkey]

Seeing as I am 2 weeks older than you, I remember all those events at the exact place in life. Which means I am old as crap too.

[Amelia]

Being on the younger side of this group as well, for me it was the Oklahoma City bombing. We lived in a suburb of OKC at the time, but we had driven into the city early that morning to go to the dentist, and to retrieve a headband (Mickey Mouse) that I had left at an indoor playground the day before. My dad worked just down the street from the Murrah bulding, thankfully he was unharmed. We felt the blast and saw the smoke but didn't know what was happening, until we drove through the bank, and the teller turned her television set towards the window so we could see. I remember not being able to sleep for weeks unless I went in my parents room, and I remember taking boxes of Girl Scout cookies to the rescue teams. That was an extremely profound moment in my life, seeing the rubble up close, remembering what the building was supposed to look like. I was 10 years old, but that is something that I'll remember forever.

[Fiddledeedee (It Coulda Been Worse)]

I remember that day well. But, two other deaths affected me more deeply. And those deaths were self inflicted. Two men who achieved success, and then chose to die. Two actors that I watched on a black and white TV, that took a good 10 minutes to "warm up." Those men were Pete Duell (of Alias Smith and Jones) and Freddie Prinze (Chico and the Man).

I couldn't understand that as a child.

[Daisy]

I was in college when John Lennon was shot; I remember the girl down the hall coming out of her room in tears. It was finals week, too, so we didn't really have the time or the strength to grieve. Passing classes, well, that was important.

[Michele]

I remember hearing about John Lennon's death the night it happened, because I used to sleep with a transistor radio (look it up, kids) on under my pillow. When I heard, I then went out and told my mom.

I remember the Challenger explosion and Chernobyl, both of which happened while I was in college. I had environmental science class the day that Chernobyl happened, and hearing the professor talk about the long term ramifications of this kind of accident really scared the bejebers out of me.