Worst. Nurse. Ever.; or: Where I Was, Where Were You
If you’re four years old, and you’re home with a tummy ache, the person you don’t want nursing you back to health is me. I’m a lost cause. I’m too wedded to logic and reason (you can take this medicine which will taste yucky for 10 seconds, or your stomach can hurt all day), and four year-olds don’t respond to logic and reason. As well, I don’t have many tricks in my arsenal. I’ll add sugar to your Children’s Pepto Bismol, but if you still won’t take it, you’re sunk. Your stomach just has to hurt. I’ll give you sympathy, but I’ll keep harping on the option you’re not taking (the medicine).
To shift gears a bit...
"Jesus was all right, but his disciples were thick and ordinary. It's them twisting it that ruins it for me."
I remember where I was when Reagan was shot (Jr. High track practice). I remember where I was when I learned that the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded (walking across campus listening to “How Soon is Now?” on my way to French class). I remember sitting in my office as a young attorney when A Good Yarn called to tell me that Kurt Cobain was dead.
And I remember being a 12 year-old, playing Atari games with my wonderful twin brother (probably devastating him in some Intellivision Baseball) when our mom came into our bedroom, with tears in her eyes, to say that John Lennon was dead. I remember not knowing who that was and thinking he must be a relative or something.
Now I know.
He imagined there was no heaven. I don’t know if there is one or not, but if there is – I can’t imagine he’s not there. And either way, I hope he rests in peace.
Where were you when you heard? And I know that may be an ageist question...if you're Gen Next/Gen Y - just make something up!