Twenty-five years ago tonight, I was with my friend, Rick, watching Monday Night Football at the Radio Shack where he worked.

Something happened in the strip mall, and I went to see. It was nothing. When I went back, Rick told me that one of the Beatles had been shot.

"I don't believe you," I said.

"It's true. Howard Cosell just said it."

"Is he dead?"

"I don't know, I just heard he was shot."

"Which Beatle?"

"I don't know," he said, "I couldn't really hear because there was a customer asking me something."

I stewed for a while, flipped channels, and could find nothing about it. "How can you tell me a Beatle was shot, and not be able to tell me which one?"

"I'm sorry," said Rick.

I waited a moment, then said, "Do you know where it happened?"

"That I can tell you. It was in New York."

"Shit. Then it was John."

"How do you know that?"

I said, "John lives in New York. The others are all in England."

I watched some more of the game, then drove home. I was riding a motorcycle at the time, so I had no radio."

Went upstairs, where I shared a room with my brother. His radio was on. A Beatles song was playing. I waited. The DJ came on, barely able to speak, and in a cracked voice repeated the awful news.

John Lennon was dead.

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I didn't sleep that night. I lay in bed, listening to the radio. Up and down the dial, every staion, EVERY STATION, was playing Beatles and Lennon music. People were calling in, crying, shocked, unable to believe. People were gathered in the streets of New York City holding candlelight vigils and offering hugs and support to each other.

I went to school the next day. Someone had hung a poster over the great court. It was an otherwise normal day, but somehow the world seemed more ... empty ... void.

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It was a difficult time for me. I was only 17 in 1981. I never saw the Beatles live. Never got to see John in concert. But I was a huge fan, and I was listening to DOUBLE FANTASY every day, hoping and praying that John would decide to tour, and a dream would be fulfilled.

That was over now.

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I spent the following days in shocked disbelief, listening to music, and interviews and retrospectives. The following Sunday, radio stations around the world observed ten minutes os silence in honor of John.

John Lennon did an interview ten days before he was killed. In that interview, he spoke of love, life, and hope for the future. He talked about raising his son, Sean, and baking bread. He said that he hoped he would go before Yoko, because he would never be able to survive without her.

And he said that during one really good recording session, that he turned to Tony Levin, his bass player, and said, "Let's take this on the road."

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Twenty-five years ago tonight, I was a shock and confused teenager. Today, I am remembering the man, his music, his love for humankind, and his legacy. All the other annoyances and things that usually bother me just don't seem as important today.