The Edwards Family Blog: Dischord

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.