I heard the news today...

Having come home from my first band's weekly practice at 9 p.m., I was pretty wiped out. I was in bed and asleep by 10, the latest. When I was awakened at 6:45 by my Radio Shack AM clock-radio, it was to the sounds of "A Hard Day's Night". I let the song play through to the end as I heard Don Imus go into a subdued sounding "W-N-B-C". Not thinking anything of it, I went out to the living room to say good morning to my parents.

My baby cousin was still living with us and asleep; my dad was usually on his way to work at this time, but he and my mother came right at me as soon as I opened the door. My mother had this crazed look in her eyes; my father looked like he was going to cry.

"Don't scream", my mother said before I opened my mouth. "John Lennon was shot to death last night".

I stumbled backwards for a moment and banged into the bedroom door. I was about as numb as you could get.

I was 15 and I just suffered the first feelings of loss for someone I loved (but didn't know). That's how it was for everyone. The Beatles were loved.

I went to school and didn't speak to a soul. It took a while to come to terms with.

And I didn't know until the morning after.