I had every Beatle LP, every 45, when he was murdered. I wept like a baby that day, and kept crying. One week later, someone I loved the most in the whole world was killed by a drunk driver. I was 12 years old, and any semblance of a childhood ended that December. Not much of a loss when your favorite song at 10 was "Yer Blues," followed by "I'm So Tired." But that one week changed everything. The Beatles. All of them. Thank you. I don't believe in death anymore, so where is this soul, this (perhaps) 20-something soul of John Lennon?