Getting Better

Apologies for a week of silence. I’ve been keeping busy cleaning my mom’s apartment, searching for jobs online, running errands, and working out daily. I pulled myself out of the depression that way, but it hasn’t left much time to reflect on things. Yesterday in the car I was singing along to the Beatles song “Getting Better,” and the lyrics felt very apt. “I’ve got to admit it’s getting better, a little better all the time (it can’t get no worse)…”

Yesterday was John Lennon’s birthday, and I listened to a lot of Beatles music… the music of my teenage years, even though I came of age in the 80s, not the 60s. I don’t have the space here to explain everything that the Beatles meant to me back then, the enormity of their impact on my life. I was 15 when Lennon was murdered, and his was the first death that touched my life, my very first experience of grief. Remembering his birthday always leads me to recall the day he died, and the two days after that I stayed home from school listening to his music and crying. This train of thought is depressing, and by yesterday evening I decided that I had to get out of the house.

I went into downtown Prescott, to a little bar on Whiskey Row that has live music. I bought a glass of chardonnay, and I sat at a table in the back listening to the band… a very decent rock band for a small mountain town without much music scene. They played a good mix of original tunes and classic rock covers, and they won me over when they played “The Ballad of John and Yoko” in the second set. At the end of the song, the long-haired bass player doffed his cowboy hat and said “Happy birthday, John.” I cheered. I smiled a lot. I danced with a couple different guys, and even though I could hardly have been less interested in either of them, I had a good time.

I have to admit, it’s getting better.


~ by hourbeforedawn on October 10, 2010.

3 Responses to “Getting Better”

  1. Gosh, I remember when you weren’t in school! I was so worried about you! And I didn’t really understand why you weren’t in school. You gave me a Beatles album (wow, remember vinyl?!) and then I started to understand. Glad to hear that you got out of the house and DID something – high five for that move, my friend!

  2. High five, for sure. It takes a strong woman to smile and dance when she wants to cry and sit. High five for Lira, and for Kerstin.

  3. Way to go Lira. You are a very strong woman; just as your Aunt Alice said.

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