On December 8th, 1980, I lived in Appleton, Wisconsin. I was eleven years old. I was most likely asleep when the everything happened, but I remember that on his broadcast the next day Walter Cronkite dedicated much, if not all, of the time-slot to the event.
My mother stood in the kitchen, watching on our small black & white television—the color TV was located in the basement family room.
She was sobbing, a mix of tears and mucus running down her scrunched up and reddened face.
I didn’t fully grasp exactly what was happening, I just knew someone had died, and that made my mother incredibly sad. The image of her crying has been burned into my mind as if by force; her crying combined with my confusion and inability to react…
…I did nothing to comfort her; I didn’t know how.
It would be several years before I discovered Double Fantasy and was struck by the odd juxtaposition between a man finding peace with his life, and having that life taken from him.
I wondered: is that how it happens? When we figure this world out and are OK with it, is that when we move on to the next?
I am still asking that question decades later.
After a lifetime of drinking and being miserable, my father at age 64 quit cold turkey. He spent a few months attending AA and repairing all his relationships, he started looking healthier, he started to smile again, consiquently my mom began to smile again, and then…massive heart attack. Just when he started to get some peace…
Goddamn, man, that is just…
Yup.
I got nothing, but it absolutely plays into the thoughts going through my head.
Thanks for shnairg. What a pleasure to read!