Damn all these years later and I still miss John

[calimary]

13. I do, too. The night one of "the Lennon Brothers" died.

It was a Monday night. I'd put in a whole day at work already. I was home, in my bathrobe, enjoying the dinner my husband fixed for me, and ready to get to bed. The phone rang. It was this wonderful, grizzly-but lovable old dude on the night desk at NBC Burbank. "Uh, Mary, uh, New York just called. One of the Lennon Brothers just got shot."

I found myself gaping at the phone I was holding in absolute bewilderment! But you know how it is when your brain immediately kicks into high gear and suddenly you're this Warp Speed Working Machine that's setting up plans and schedules and duty lists that you're already running 190 miles an hour executing? It suddenly occurred to me "Lennon Brothers... JOHN Lennon? No, it couldn't be JOHN Lennon..." So I immediately thanked the Burbank guy and called New York, and learned that the dreadful possibility you hoped couldn't happen actually had happened.

I still remember how fast I got dressed and grabbed my keys, explaining to my husband what had happened and why I was headed back to work. Fortunately, he'd worked in broadcasting and deadline news and was completely supportive and understanding. I raced to Burbank and got to work, trying to dig up react. NOBODY wanted to talk. NOBODY would go on tape. Art Garfunkel even got mad at me for disturbing him at home and wouldn't give me a comment on John Lennon's murder. It was a hard job that night.

And I was glad it was hard. Because I was so busy working on react that night AND through that whole week that the gravity of the story didn't really hit me. It didn't hit me til Friday afternoon of that week, and it left me weeping face down on the desk.