It's been 30 years since John Lennon was murdered outside his home in NYC. Thirty years. Time flies. It can't have been that long. Ironically, I remember the day Elvis died with more clarity, but then Elvis was more important to me and my family. Elvis was almost one of the family. He seemed like a far distant cousin that I knew about but didn't know. Lennon was different.
What strikes me today is not only how long he's been dead, but also how long he lived. He was 40 years old when he died. Most of us at 40 still expect to have quite a bit of life ahead of us. At 40, most of us think that we've lots of years left, but Lennon didn't. In fact, just days before he died he made comment of how we idolize the dead, and we do. It's always been interesting to me how the dead become saints or heroes when as living humans, we could barely stand them. It's funny how we remember people and things. An author once said something like, "There's the truth, and then there's the truth we remember."
Yesterday also marked the 69th anniversary of the bombing at Pearl Harbor. I dare say most if not all of the 2000+ casualties thought they had plenty of time to do the things they wanted to do, but time runs out for us all - just as it did for Elizabeth Edwards this week. I loved her last post to Facebook. While we all realize that our days are numbered, most of us don't live as if we realize that. As I begin to think of all those resolutions I'll be making in a few weeks - many of which I'll never keep - I'm also going to be thinking about those things I want to accomplish. I think high on my list will be choosing my attitude. Lately, I have been finding myself feeling sorry for myself when the real people is that I'm too busy thinking about what I don't have to appreciate the many things that I do have.
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