I was thumbing through some interesting facts today and found that Yoko Ono is 77 years old now.
I hadn’t realized she was so much older than John Lennon. But they say she was. I remember buying an album called Two Virgins my first year of college. I was shocked when I got it home and they were both naked. There wasn’t anything on it worth listening to.
I had a guy tell me a story of a Christian from the U.S. teaching school in the town where Ono’s family lived. And Lennon overheard them speaking English and asked them to meet later saying, “I have to hear some English for a while.”
The source told me they taught them worship choruses and they sang them together over a number of days. But one day Ono cut the gatherings off. So they say.
I have no idea whether this story is true. The guy who told me this claimed he knew the teachers first hand.
Back to Ono being 77. Lennon would himself be 70 years old this year if he had lived.
The reason this whole line of thinking interested me is how unthreatening history becomes.
And really how unimportant age is on one level. And inescapable it is on another level.
One of my best friends died a few years ago at 79 years old. We were friends from the time I was in Jr. High. I don’t think he ever had friends his own age.
One third our country is hitting their last quarter of life. And I have a feeling no one really knows quite how to handle it. Few are retiring. Many will work on. And many will lose their sense of purpose that kept them thriving.
Some day a number of moons from now someone will say…cheeze did you hear Doug is 77 this year.
I know few people know this but there are very few people who reach 80 that aren’t a lot hipper than they were at 50. Or some 30.
