What if......

[pan6467]

There was a comic book back in the 70's by Marvel called "What if..." It usually teamed Marvel Superheroes..... so stealing from that idea, plus the 25th anniversary of one of the greatest tragedies in my lifetime and other things. I thought what a bout a thread where people could just sit back and imagine a world event or a life experience that would make things different if it had not happened (or if it had).

For example.... what if Marc Antony had beaten Octavius? Or What if we had never gone to Vietnam? Or lost WW2? or the Beatles had not broken up.... or that girl/boy in the 5th grade that turned you down actually said yes?

Write it how ever you want, 1st person, as a total outside observer, as an insider, whatever..... be creative and have fun......

My what if......

What if John Lennon had not been killed, but had still had been shot? (As written like an encyclopedic biography.)

The television was turned to Monday Night Football, on that cold December night when Howard Cosell announced John Lennon had been shot. No details on whether he was dead or not.

The crowds gathered in Central Park and around the hospital praying for Lennon to survive. No one minded the cold evening, as the warmth of their memories and goodwill for Lennon kept them warm.

News arrived as the sun was coming out, Lennon survived and would be okay, but would need a few months to recouperate.

Double Fantasy, his most recent album stayed on the charts for 2 years and would become the best selling album of all time, as he toured sporadically, often taking months off disappearing to spend time with his wife Yoko and son Sean and speaking out against the Reagan presidency.

Lennon made historic news in 1984 when campaigning for Democratic nominee Gary Hart, by saying that if Gary Hart was elected the Beatles would reunite for a one off inaugural show. Gary Hart won both the nomination and the general election by landslide.

John Lennon joined Paul, George and Ringo onstage at the Lincoln Center for the most watched television show in history, the long awaited Beatles reunion. At first the tension onstage could be felt by all. George Harrison took off his guitar and had started walking off stage in apparently a bad mood until John spoke and told George that the show was not for them but for the people. Paul, meanwhile stood there quietly smiling for the cameras.

Halfway through their set, as the group continued to play methodically and without warmth, John spontaneously walked over to Paul and gave him a big hug and was heard to say, "I love you, brother." Paul's reaction was similar and the show picked up pace, warmth and smiles.

After the show, the Beatles left as a group hurriedly and without speaking to the throng of press. They arrived in NYC in time to appear live on Nightline. Where John and Paul said that they would try to write an album together and that the Beatles were not dead yet.

However, as months progressed, word out of Abbey Studios was that the secluded Beatles were fighting and often one of the four would leave, only to have producer George Martin find some common ground to bring the rogue Beatle back.

The Rolling Stones meanwhile were making news by touring feverishly and releasing albums to luke war reception.

In 1986, the Beatles finished recording and released the 12 song album "Second Act". The songs were equally divided between John and Paul, with Ringo and George each having written 1 song.

The surprising "In God's Hands" a semi hymnal hard rocker written and sung by George was the biggest hit of the multi platinum selling, Grammy Award winning disk.

John maintained his activism and moderated for President Hart and the Soviet Leader Mikhail Gorbachev tried to end the Cold War, with trade and peace treaties.

Paul, meanwhile was pushing for a Beatles tour, trying to maintain their comeback.

Finally a tour was scheduled for 1987. Rock promoter Billy Graham and Paul McCartney had gotten the Rolling Stones, The Who, Pink Floyd and the Kinks to all do a 10 city tour with the Beatles as a tribute to the British invasion of the 60's.

But again, trouble brewed for the Beatles. John, who had just recorded a hit duet with son Julian, backed out claiming the tour was too commercial and that he was again going solo.

George decided to team up with friend and fellow guitarist Eric Clapton to record a series of best selling albums.

Ringo regrouped his All-Starr touring band and went on a summer tour.

Paul feeling as the odd man out swore he would never again appear onstage with John.

The Beatles and the individual band members never regained their momentum. Musically, they were to become has beens.

By 1992, John Lennon had dropped out of music again, took to social activism and had written a tell all book. Paul tried touring solo again but found he was reduced to small venues. Ringo maintained his All-Starr Summer tours to moderate success and George had dropped out of public life totally, devoting his life to religion and charity.

In June, 1997, John, Paul and Ringo were seen together at a 30 year anniversary for their album Sgt. Pepper, sponsored by Rolling Stone Magazine and Time Warner. They refused to appear together in pictures and were said to be very cold toward each other.

Later that year John Lennon reported that he had lung cancer. He dropped out of public life and died at the age of 57, in NYC, December 8, 1997, 17 years to the day he was shot. He was survived by his wife Yoko, and 2 sons Julian and Sean, both recording artists and both having had hit duets with their father.

[Poppinjay]

Frank Reynolds reported the shooting death of President Ronald Reagan the day Jamie and I played war in his grandfather’s field. We came in to his house and saw his grandfather watching TV, in the middle of the day – odd for a workaholic farmer. He told us what had happened, a deranged young man had broken through Reagan’s security detail, slaying a policeman and wounding the press secretary. He then turned the gun on the president as he fell back into his limo. The shot was to the head, and deadly. The gunner claimed he had love in his heart for Jodi Foster.

While some events like that do make a tremendous mark in some people’s lives, I never knew how this simple action would affect me time and again. George Herbert Walker Bush, the man who had tagged Reagan’s monetary policies as “voodoo economics” became president, vowing that America’s business is business. After shearing taxes for the wealthy, and increasing the percentage of the middle class, he was soundly defeated by Walter Mondale in 1984. By that time, the country was in turmoil with a 19% unemployment rate and many large cities that had become nearly lawless. Bush himself had to be transported about DC in an armored colonnade.

Unfortunately, Mondale was not a strong enough leader to give the people hope, or restore the country to her former dignity. Two years later, I started college at a beautiful liberal arts campus in the south, only to discover that title III funds had been eliminated by the government. Those are the kinds of things that they don’t put in the Peterson’s guides. So, out went the broadcast journalism program, as well as the cleaning service, maintenance, and lawn care. The following Spring, our contemporary lit class wished to convene on the lawn in front of the dorms, but the grass hadn’t been cut in months, and was tall, and full of locusts. When the grass was finally cut, the college PR department asked us to hold class outside again so they could take a picture for their brochure. They said they wanted people to think everything was “all right” at the college.

As happens at colleges, speakers arrive and give lectures. Even at small schools like ours, people of fame or import come, whereas they would never set foot in the town if not for the school. I attended a lecture given by Sara Brady on the subject of gun control. She was for it. She said she never would have guessed how things would change after her husband had been shot. I had to agree.

My junior year was the first election I could participate in. Given the choice between Mondale and Bob Dole, I elected to vote for Lenora Fulani. I was a dumb kid. Dole won in a landslide. I felt good about it. He seemed decent. He didn’t hide his troubles, his divorce, his regrettable campaign tactics in his youth. He ran a gentlemanly campaign, while Mondale seemed to be continually making gaffs. I thought things would be better. I was wrong.

With no restoration of my major, I took an English degree instead and still managed to get out in four years. Our graduation speaker was the former Secretary of Transportation, Elizabeth Dole. I don’t recall a blinking word she said, other than she had grown up in nearby Salisbury, and that it was also the home of Andrew Jackson. I was … not really hungover so much as still drunk from the night before.

The following four years were spent living precariously without healthcare, employed only part time at three, sometimes four different jobs. During this time, I withdrew socially because I had no time for friends or socializing. The one time I was active was when some hick from Arkansas ran for president. I didn’t like him. When he announced on C-Span, I thought, “this is a joke, who would vote for this guy?” I supported Paul Tsongas. Probably for no other reason than he wrote a book. In the end, of course the hick won the primaries, and I supported him. I also dearly hoped it would be the year we turn our Jesse Helms, but a last minute racial campaign nipped that.

When Clinton’s policies finally started to take root, unemployment dropped and I found a position. In Kansas. Whenever I tell people I lived in Kansas, they look at me like I have snakes in my hair. Hell, when I told Kansans that I was from North Carolina, the common response was, “what the hell are you doing here?” One of my first assignments was to cover the “Bob Dole Thank You Tour”. It was his offering after making the statement, “I’m going to the White House or home to Kansas!” I met him in a tiny room with the local print media. He was short. Kind of puny. I asked him who he thought the next GOP frontrunner would be. “McCain” he replied. He had just given McCain a large donation. His wife was furious because she had her own aspirations, but the failed administrations of both Bob Dole and George HW Bush had put a severe taint on Liddy and George W Bush.

After the second Clinton inauguration kicked off, I found a job in DC. I was very happy to be rid of Kansas. Things looked up immediately. I met a girl who had interned at the White House and we started dating. She told me the president was a horn dog and had hit on her. She flirted back, back didn’t let things go any further since we were dating. She was kind of chubby, but I’m no Jack Lalane. Or Charles Atlas.

Alas, we broke up when I called one of her friends a bitter hag. Monnie had this friend who had begged her to get a meeting with Clinton so she could pesker him for a position in his administration. She was just all around unpleasant. I don’t know why Monnie liked her, but she had an odd habit of collecting people like philatelists collect defective stamps – the weirder the more valuable. It wasn’t a terrible breakup. Though she was a freak in bed, it doesn’t work well to also be a bit of a freak at dinner parties, in the office, on the metro…

So I decided to settle down. Find a nice girl, start a 401k, you know, adult shit. The economy was humming and I started dating Dee. She had been a press secretary, but had left because she was unhappy with the dividing of duties. She’s Catholic, a bit of a drinker, a few years older, but blonde and cute. We have twelve children.