John Lennon is Dead
Brickhouse Bar
State College, PA
December 1980
It is a typical snowy December night in State College. I am
working on my Master’s degree and decided to take a break from my studies. So I am meeting my friend, Deb, at the
Brickhouse, a small bar, tucked away in an alley.
The bar is really, really small. When you come in the door,
you have to stop and look before you proceed.
The pool table is right there and someone may be taking the winning
shot. So you enter and proceed with
caution. The main room, not much bigger,
is to the right. The bar has a
television in the corner. There are about five stools and there may be room for
20 people to stand. There isn’t much
more room than that in this tiny hole in the wall.
Deb and I are sitting at the bar, deep in conversation. Someone shouts out, “John Lennon is dead.
Look”. He grabs everyone’ attention and now we all watch the TV together. The news commentator repeats this statement
and then takes us to a live video of the Dakotas, Lennon’s apartment building
in Manhattan. People are walking around
in shock. Police are trying to control
the crowd. And we, at the bar, are mesmerized by the news. There is complete silence in the bar except
for the occasion question from the bartender, “Another one?” I nod, “Yea, yea” and quickly divert my eyes
back to the TV. Sadness permeates the room. We are one with our grief.
I don’t remember how long I stayed at the bar. But I remember stepping out into the cold,
crisp night. It is snowing heavily now. It
is slippery and so unpleasant. My walking is labored and I am so filled with
sadness, bewilderment and vulnerability.
