by Julie Gold
10.2004.NYC
Grammy award-winning “From a Distance” songwriter Julie Gold wrote about the moment she and Yoko Ono shared on what would have been John’s 64th birthday in 2004. After it ran in Performing Songwriter that year, Yoko read it and included it the book “Memories of John Lennon.” Thank you, Julie, for sharing your story.
I was 8 years old when the Beatles played The Ed Sullivan Show back in 1964. My life changed forever that night. I remember when the camera zoomed in on John Lennon and this ticker was underneath him saying something like, “Sorry girls, he’s married. …” I wasn’t jealous, I just hoped his wife loved him as much as I did.
For 40 years I’ve loved him.
Most of those 40 years I’ve surrounded myself with his music, his message and always photos of him. I’ve slept under his portrait most of my life. I remember when Elvis Presley died and the news had all these images of people crying around the world. I could not identify with those people, but I remember asking God to please never ever let anything bad happen to John Lennon, because then I’d be crying, too.
Forever.
I wanted John Lennon to outlive me.
I remember when Yoko came into the picture and everyone was mad at her. I didn’t get it. After all, in my opinion, she brought out the best in John. It was the word “yes” that triggered their romance. He wrote his best music and became the most outspoken “under her influence.” For my 16th birthday a friend gave me Yoko’s book entitled Grapefruit.
I loved it.
I loved Yoko.
When I was in high school John and Yoko hosted The Mike Douglas Show which was shot in my hometown of Philadelphia. I remember our local paper had a photo of the two of them walking down Walnut Street carrying a small drum they had bought in a store I frequented.
It was surreal for me.
How could they actually be in my city?
I guess I didn’t think of them as human. They gave too much to the world to be merely human. As a New Yorker I would occasionally walk past the Dakota, though I could not grasp the reality of the two of them actually living there and walking in and out of that majestic building.
December 8, 1980.
I’d been in New York two years. I went to sleep early that night. I was awakened abruptly when my phone started ringing and ringing. All calls from my Philadelphia friends. “Did you hear the news?” “Turn on your TV. …” There was a football game on. There was a ticker under the game. It was about John Lennon being shot. Then Howard Cosell made the horrifying announcement.
Once again, my life changed forever.
Who could kill John Lennon? How was that possible? Why did God ignore my prayer? How could I ever listen to the Beatles again? How can I live without knowing that somewhere in the world John Lennon is alive?
The pain has never gone away.
I still cry.
I still read Yoko’s poem, “Season Of Glass.”
I saw Yoko sometime in 1981 or 1982. She was walking down Broadway. I wanted to say hello, but I didn’t want to intrude on her privacy. I knew that if John hadn’t been killed, that would have been the time I got to see them together in person. I framed the image in my soul. I imagined him beside her.
Just before my 40th birthday, I decided to take a chance and write to Yoko. I just needed to tell her I loved her. To thank her. To tell her about getting Grapefruit for my 16th birthday and now turning 40. Writing to her was a cathartic experience. I didn’t know if she’d ever even read my letter; still, it was something I had to do.
A few months later I got this envelope in the mail. The return address said Studio One. I didn’t have a clue. I opened the envelope and there was a postcard of John and Yoko during their “Two Gurus In Bed” period; their “Bed-In” for Peace. It was signed “To Julie, In Sisterhood. Love X Yoko NYC ’96.” It is framed by my front door (under a sacred letter from Carole King). I see it every day of my life when I come and go. It gives me courage, strength, hope, happiness.
I cherish that photo.
In 1985 I wrote “From a Distance.” I know that my songwriting is completely influenced by the Beatles. I know every word they ever sang. I know every note they ever played. It’s in my blood. It’s part of who I am.
Musically, there can be no finer teacher than the Beatles. I’ve been blessed to live my life now as a rewarded and respected musician. I thank God daily for my blessed life and the abundance of gifts therein. At the end of my daily prayers I talk to a few choice people:
My Father.
John Lennon.
Laura Nyro.
Martin Luther King.
John F. Kennedy.
Robert F. Kennedy.
I thank them daily for the positive influence they had and continue to have on my life and my music. They’re with me daily.
As for John, I have his self-portrait over my bed and his beautiful drawing of him and Yoko next to my piano. It’s right next to a Paul McCartney print, signed by Paul. How can I not be inspired when I’m at my piano with the Beautiful Hudson River of Dreams just outside my window?
And so, the final part of my story unfolds. …
Every few years Yoko Ono has an art show somewhere in New York. I always go, and it never disappoints. So I saw a notice that she was going to exhibit some of John’s work at a gallery down in SoHo for a few days in October, including October 9th, which would have been his 64th birthday.
I put on my Yellow Submarine T-shirt.
I put on my “Imagine Peace” button which I got at Yoko art show last year.
I always have my Imagine lucky stone in my pocket.
And then I walked down to SoHo.
As expected, it was an emotional experience to be there surrounded by his paintings, his drawings, his song lyrics, photos of him, videos of him. There was a sense of kinship among all of us milling around. A palpable sense of loss, love, nostalgia, inevitability.
I found my way to the back of the exhibit and stood before a silent video of my fallen hero playing “Imagine” on that white grand piano with Yoko looking on in the background. I remember first seeing those images when they were new. I remember hearing “Imagine” for the first time and how deeply it touched me and changed me. I was lost in the moment.
Reverie.
Sorrow.
Prayer.
I sensed a presence next to me.
I heard a slight sigh.
I looked up.
Yoko.
It was Yoko standing next to me in an art gallery in SoHo staring up at an image of her beloved husband; my beloved idol. I think I sucked most of the air out of the room when I exclaimed “Yoko …”
I didn’t know exactly what to say but I think and hope that the love I felt at that moment was transmitted. I took my Imagine stone out of my pocket and showed her. I pointed to my “Imagine Peace” button. And with every ounce of love and sincerity that I have ever felt, I said, “Thank you, Yoko. Thank you.”
We hugged each other. She thanked me, too, and wished me luck. I just stood there as she wandered off and was suddenly surrounded by autograph seekers and photo opportunities.
I kept watching the video of John.
I sensed that he was right there with us.
I bought a T-shirt with his image.
I walked home through SoHo, weeping.
That is my story. It really happened. I did not imagine it, though I still Imagine. I still “Imagine the Clouds Dripping.” I still know that Love Is All You Need.
Yoko Ono is somewhere in New York City. For one magical moment, our lives intersected and our energies meshed. I told John all about it the very next day.
He already knew.
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