I don’t often reprint old blog postings but we have a lot of new readers these days and today, in particular this post from 2015 bears repeating.
We have all had those nights. Lots of beer in the fridge and a group of new friends with no where pressing to be. They sit in a living room with the fire crackling, talking, reminiscing, telling stories.. Getting to know each other… Some times the stories prove how small the world can be with shared experiences, or unknown commonalities or sometimes the stories prompt even crazier coincidences.
We had a night like that in December of 1980. I was 23 and played on a women’s soccer team. E moved into a house in Point Grey with two of the women on the team. Our coach, newly arrived from Liverpool was with us that night. E was still unpacking his belongings. His entire personal worth at the time was a five poster king size water-bed, a stereo and 450 record albums sorted alphabetically in red milk crates. Jan was from Toronto, Brigitte was on a student visa from Ireland. There were five of us in the living room watching E set up his music.
When E has had a few to drink he likes to take his records out and play favorite songs from one album at a time, like a DJ. He had had a few to drink. The evening progressed, the fire burned, the music continued and the stories more nostalgic. Perhaps there was some smoke in the air.. Our coach spoke of how in his teens he was a bouncer at a club in Liverpool when the Beatles would play on a Saturday night. Talk continued of our favorite Beatle, our favorite song and of course, the night they first appeared on Ed Sullivan. That prompted a conversation about the Paul McCartney conspiracy. E pulled out Revolution 9 and played it backward. “turn me on dead man” and Strawberry Fields Forever where you can purportedly hear John Lennon say “I buried Paul”….. E took requests and played all of our favorites Eventually all songs were listened to on most of the albums (E has them all) and we fell asleep around 5 AM dreaming of Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds…
The next morning we stumbled into the kitchen, poured our coffees and turned on the radio to hear that John Lennon had been shot dead in front of the Dakota at 11:15 pm (8:15 our time) the night before.
It still gives me chills….