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The Quiet One

Sun Apr 3
We had lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe — The child’s first trip ever, my first trip in a couple of *ahem* decades. Naturally, the conversation turned immediately to The Beatles. When she and I excused ourselves to go to the bathroom, the child stood stock still at the top of the stairs. “It’s John,” she whispered reverently, her fists clutched under her chin in pop-music prayer. “It’s John Lennon.”

We had lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe — The child’s first trip ever, my first trip in a couple of *ahem* decades. Naturally, the conversation turned immediately to The Beatles. When she and I excused ourselves to go to the bathroom, the child stood stock still at the top of the stairs. “It’s John,” she whispered reverently, her fists clutched under her chin in pop-music prayer. “It’s John Lennon.”