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Wednesday, December 8, 2010
John Lennon, Karate, My Mother and Me
So much on John Lennon everywhere today. I have to say he was in heavy rotation in my house growing up. When he died we happened to be in NYC. We went to his funeral with thousands upon thousands of others.
Being 10 years old, I couldn't see much of what was going on, so my dad thought it would be okay if I moved about 10 feet away, and get a better view of the stage.
Not much was happening on stage. I turned around to look for my parents. The crowd had shifted and I couldn't see them. Some hippies took me to the police, whom my parents had taught me to never, ever trust. I was terrified.
While I was in the single-wide trailer the police were using as a base of operations for this gathering, my mom was terrified because she couldn't find me. My mom was 5'10, wearing all black leather and short wavy/spikey blond hair. She walked across the empty stage because that was the fastest way to the police-trailer. When she got on stage, everyone applauded. I guess she seemed like someone who might say something. She broke down crying. And everyone applauded again.
She found me at the police station. I demanded to learn karate because I didn't want to be in that position again.
I left karate about 6 months later, sometime after my orange belt. I left because I was the only girl in a class full of 14 year old, metal-head crusties. I held my own in sparring matches (no helmets then!) As an animal lover though, I couldn't bare to be around people who were so interested in biting heads off bats, and other animal torture. I don't know if those stories are true, but the way their eyes lit up when they told them was really disgusting.