You, Beautiful Boy…John Lennon.

john 1


Had it been a colder winter, would Vicki been more aware of the day, the time…the shift of wind, to the subtle change of the earth’s emotions?  A typical day, no matter the season had been a hippie rainbow, splashed with a tie dye of skeleton, neon green and pink…

Typical?  No, no, fuckin’ way!  The day played out in the 13 year old’s, tainted by peace and love, screw the establishment…, mind.  This time though, it had been  recorded in tears.  Similar to looking at that larger than life, black-light, poster of Elvis, in a pantsuit…one toke shy of a good high!elvis

Sitting, lotus style on the shag carpeting of Lynn’s bedroom, attempting to really understand the true meaning of…


Terry Jack’s; Seasons in the Sun


A wonderful song about dying, the rebirth of spring and the friends we leave behind.

At the time, as two rebel freaks adverse to conformity…Vicki and Lynne only thought of the song as a sad good-bye to their childhood.  As it was certain, once High School began, the end poetically and physically, would be near.

Yet, none of that silly lonely life felt by many of similar breed and congruent thought mattered…For down below, in the bowels of the ancient home, sat, Lynne’s brother, Eddie.

Eddie, posted upon a stool made of stolen milk crates, smiled a mad-dog grin…as he and his buddies, banged out

Stairway to Heaven!

It hadn’t been that the band played poorly.  It wasn’t that the four mop-heads didn’t somehow resemble Muppet Puppets.   The simple fact had been, those fools just were not cool!  Anyway you cut it!  Those white boys had no rhythm and certainly, no style!

Vicki and Lynn cranked that hot pink record player.  So often had the needle been manually brought back to go that…well…one verse repeated itself over and over and over again.

Please pray for me
I was the black sheep of the family

No matter the loudness of the house.  No matter a child’s play at bettering the current situation.  No matter, the pleas, the tears and the questions…the ‘just give me some truth,’ could not be tucked away.

John Lennon, the prince of peace, the maker of all love, the heart and soul of a collective few living in a small New Hampshire city, tucked away in the middle class, had been killed the night before.

It had been a Monday night, 10:50 p.m., 1980!

John 2

The next day, with songs cranked, with outrage pouring out of every Yukon Jack bottle, with Vicki and Lynne attempting to drown their fears in the therapy of music…with all this…a handful of mourners headed for the capital.  One of these walking tributes to all that John Lennon could Imagine, had been Lynne’s mother.  Decked out with beaded vest, bell bottom Tough Skins…faded just right, and a pair of knee high, ‘knock me down and show me a good time’ black leather boots: Lynne’s mother made Stevie Nicks look like a girl scout in training.

And, it was on this day, Tuesday, December 9th, 1980…between the blue grass music being tortured by an all bad male band, and, the young ladies quietly paying respect through lyrics…Lynne’s mother lay entombed in her bedroom to distraught to go to work.

Odd, years later, Vicki would visit the Orpheum theater in Boston to see,  the Plastic Ono band.  She would be high on technicolor and acid!  She would not remember much of that night.  She would remember, Yoko’s acknowledgement of her long lost husband.  And, she would remember that day…a handful of years back…

That day, when within her little world of Peace, Love and Happiness, she learned of  new emotions.  Terror and pure hate!  To the current day, Vicki could not bring herself to read, ‘Catcher in the Rye’, she could not capitalize on anything relating to John’s death.  No new and recently found works of Lennons‘…posthumously!

Fading to black in the very back row of the Orpheum theater, weirdness abound, with necklaces made of Barbie Doll parts, Hippies zoned out on weed, the sweet smell corroding the walls…a simple verse is all that Vicki could recall…

Goodbye to you
My trusted friend

We’ve known each other since we were nine or ten
Together we’ve climbed hills and trees

john 3

Load Up the Gun Rack

There is nothing more Zen like or better place to find yourself back from left of center…in the middle where you belong. Then mowing a 40 acre lot on a New Hampshire once in a life time day…senses sharp, rhythm in sync with the universe of nature’s goodness and a Marlboro Red with a Arizona Lite Half n Half Iced Tea.

Load up the shotgun, put it in the gunrack
Load up the shotgun, put it in the gunrack

For those Kodak moments music should always be applied. The two best Top Ten Ruth‘s Billboard Tractor Pulling Stuck in the Mud songs go to Bonnie Raitt:

Papa Come Quick
Papa come quick, Jody’s gone to the city
What we gonna do now that Jody’s gone
She left a note on the TV and Papa it’s a pity
What we gonna do now that Jody’s gone.

Mama’s been cryin in the kitchen since mornin
She cried right through As The World Turns
I seen it myself and Papa it’s a bitch’n
Let’s haul ass before the baby gets burned.

Gas up the old Ford, get out the road map
They got a head start about half a day
Load up the shotgun, put it in the gunrack
Jody’s with Chico down in East LA.

It must’ve been that wild-eyed, silver-tongued schemer
A girl like Jody don’t think for herself.
Him and that Harley and his damn Jalapena
Smokin that stuff’ll make you hurt yourself.

Smokin that stuff'll make you hurt yourself.
Smokin that stuff’ll make you hurt yourself.

Papa come quick
Papa come quick
Papa come quick
Papa come on.

Gas up the old Ford, get out the road map
They got a head start about a half a day
Stop at the Mobil, pump up the flat wheel
Jody & Chico and his ding dang deal.

No Business

Yes, I’m lonely-hope you don’t catch it
Don’t want to be down where I last behaved
I broke his heart now I can’t patch it
This time it’s grave.

I kept track of all the love that I gave him
And on paper, well, it looked pretty good
He left a note that said he couldn’t stay here
As if I could…

You say you're itching baby, so go ahead and scratch it  But if its jumps off, don't look at me
You say you’re itching baby, so go ahead and scratch it
But if its jumps off, don’t look at me

I guess my love’s got no business, no business calling his name
I guess my love’s got no business, no business to blame.

One of these days I thought we’d get it together
After all that boy was made for me
But all he left me was a mouth full of feathers
Little bird got free.

He always said my love was one sided
I tried to keep up with supply and demand
But there was one way that pie was divided
It was a big piece plan.

Well, now I’m getting desperate, baby getting illegal
I got the law doggies on my trail
The hawk’s out and I could use and eagle
To go my bail.

One of these days I thought I'd get it together
One of these days I thought I’d get it together

You say you’re itching baby, so go ahead and scratch it
But if its jumps off, don’t look at me
You swore to God that I couldn’t catch it
But your dog’s got fleas.