It was 39 years ago. I remember sitting in the kitchen studying for a final exam. My Dad was in the basement, watching Monday Night Football. I was deep into my studies, oblivious to the game that commanded Dad’s attention. And then I heard those words, delivered by Howard Cosell. It felt like a nightmare, only it wasn’t.
“Dead on arrival!”
It cut through the air. The feeling was out-of-body, in a bad way. This didn’t happen. This could not be true. John Lennon had just released Double Fantasy and his outlook for the future seemed so bright.