I have
an earworm. I just learned that term. Urban Dictionary defines it as "a
song that sticks in your mind, and will not leave no matter how much you
try." I almost always have one, but this one different, it has stuck with
me since last week; and it isn't going anywhere.
Sometimes
you have experiences that resonate with you in ways you would never expect.
That is what happened to me on Thursday. I had finished a mediation in New York
and I met up with Nick and Emma. They had taken the train into the city with me
in the morning. When we were trying to decide what to do, I suggested two
things that none of us had seen or done before. One was to visit the
"Strawberry Fields" section of Central Park and the other was to eat
at "Tom's Restaurant," which is featured prominently in Seinfeld and
in Suzanne Vega's song, "Tom's Diner."
Although
I've listened to the Beatles and some of Lennon's solo material, I've never
really followed them. To me, visiting Strawberry Fields was just one of many
things you can do when you find yourself meandering through Central Park. We
discovered however, not surprisingly, that the Lennon Memorial is visited by
many diehard Beatles fans.
I also
discovered that this simple and beautiful memorial is incredibly moving. For
me, it is less about Lennon, and more about peace, and the quest to find
common ground. Although this is a designated quiet area of the park, there was
a musician near the circle playing "Imagine" and other related songs.
I suspect this is often the case. I read after the fact, that 121 countries
contributed to the site by sending trees and flowers. There are few things that
would summon such international support. The 2 1/2 acre section of the park
provides a kind of serenity that is hard to find elsewhere in New York City.
The tranquility took me a little by surprise.
Since
we left the memorial, "Imagine" has become my earworm.
I was
explaining to Nick and Emma that I believed "Imagine" was one of
those songs that transcends generations. Nick being the comical genius that he
is, likened it to "Baby Got Back." I hope he is wrong. Someday, at
least a decade from now, when I do have grandchildren, I hope I don't have to
listen to them sing "I like big butts and I can not lie." My guess is
that Nick will make sure this happens.
"Imagine"
is just as relevant today as it was when it was written in 1971; maybe even
more so. Then we were at war with other countries, now we seem to be at war
with ourselves. Over 40 years later, we are still searching for a way to break
down barriers, to eradicate violence, to find acceptance, to find love. It
doesn't feel like we have made much progress. For me the song is a sad reminder
that although we proclaim we want peace, we do little to actually move in that
direction. I believe it is possible. Yet as a society, we can't seem to wrap
our collective heads around how to make it happen. Sometimes you have to
sacrifice a little to achieve something great for the common good. We have
given so many lives to fight battles for and in other countries. Yet, it seems
we give little effort and attention to the battles in our own neighborhoods.
This is becoming even more clear to me as I begin to represent children in DCF
cases.
I
thought if I listened to the song, maybe I could get rid of the earworm, so I
downloaded "Imagine" from iTunes and proceeded to find it in my song
list. I hit play. I was startled when that song ended and the next song in
alphabetical order started; because it was "The Imperial March." I
downloaded Darth Vader's anthem for Jack many moons ago. The dichotomy between
the symbolism of those two songs is the discord we live in. Darth Vader
constantly battled with good vs. evil; as most of us do. Evil comes in many
shapes and sizes. We all have our own demons. It seems Lennon did as well.
In the
midst of all the chaos and tragedy plastered all over the news, I still seem
find hope with each sunrise. Maybe I am a hopeless optimist, but I firmly
believe that each day, every day we can do better. Maybe we will get there,
eventually. Maybe we will get there together. Maybe. Maybe someday I can send
my kids to school or take them to the movies and not worry about losing them to
violence. We can do better for our society, for ourselves, for our children.
Just imagine the possibilities.
"You may say I'm a dreamer,
but I'm not the only one...
I hope one day you'll join us
And the world will live as one."
