Damn, that was beautiful. Nice work, Eric. That brought back all of the joy of Ferris Bueller AND the Beatles.

I learned one of my most cherished skills from this movie: how to make drip noises with my mouth, thanks to Cameron when they were all in the stock exchange.

The banality of high school is brilliantly summarized by the economics teacher (Ben Stein) who calls attendance with a priceless somnambulent drone, "Buehler"?, Buehler?, Buehler?, Anyone? Anyone? Anyone?," hoping that the incantation of a student's name will cause him to appear.

He brings the same tone to academics. "Candidate George Bush called this What? Anyone? Anyone? Something economics. Anyone? Anyone? Anyone?"

Drool trickles down one catatonic victim's chin, "Something 'doo' economics, Anyone? Anyone? Anyone? Voodoo economics."

This, to me, is one of the defining cinematic moments of the 80s. That scene perfectly summed up the banality of high school "education." Kids should be required to memorize this scene before their freshman year of high school. "Your next four years will look and sound just like this . . . "

Thanks Tom, I really appreciate it - it was long and rambling but very heartfelt.

Fantastic essay, Eric.

I'll admit that I've always discounted Ferris Bueller mainly for the fact that the movie loses all of its energy the moment Ferris finishes lipsynching "Twist and Shout." Maybe I've been too rough on it... but the end of the movie seems to squander most of the good will built up in the first 90 minutes.

Your comment that Paul lost part of his brain and John lost part of his heart when the Beatles broke up is perfect. Paul is still capable of writing wonderful-sounding pop songs (his work on McCartney is the best example of that, IMO). But his solo lyrics have never matched the beauty of the melodies he's created. And as the years go on, they're getting worse... "Freedom" was an abomination.

I always preferred John's later, more relationship-oriented solo work (esp. "Just Like Starting Over") to his overtly political songs, mainly because I think you begin to see him enjoying the happiness that he yearned for when the Beatles broke up (and he screamed for on the "Plastic Ono Band" album).

I was born 3 years after the Beatles split up, and I've always felt gypped by the fact that I never got to see the greatest, most influential band of all time together in my lifetime. But you're right... the "ravenous beast" of fame and public adoration almost devoured each of the Beatles on an individual human level. They had to split up to recover their own humanity. If they hadn't, it would have killed them... not figuratively, literally.

It's scary to deify anyone... politicians, celebrities, you name it. But all four of them had to confront that nonstop, even after they broke up. Too many fans misidentified their genius as something divine. I'm sure it scared all of them... before the breakup and after.

Anyway... thanks for posting that essay. It's not often that someone can make me look at my favorite band from a totally different prism. But thanks to your comments, I think I understand them a little better.

Thanks so much Jason, your comments make me very happy. I'm glad you thought it worthwhile!

holy shi-wow eric, that was fantastic.

...and you called me a hopeless music romantic!

Thanks Mark! hopelessly romantic, yes, but hopefully hopeful as well, or something.

Man, when you are sappy and earnest, you are your most brilliant. Nice job!

Thanks Dawn, let the sap flow.

AWEsome piece, Eric. AWEsome. AWE. SOME.

Love,
A Fellow Beatles and Ferris Bueller fan whose favorite Beatle was John, then George, and who is not looking forward to Dec. 8.

I first saw FBDO in a theater in NYC in 1986. Same thing during "Twist and Shout," with most all of us up, dancing and singing. More fun than Rocky Horror. God, I love that song... And I will probably be a Matthew Broderick nut evermore because he portrayed that righteous dude, and I was fond of his stage work long before Ferris came along.

Thanks Natalie, I'm so glad it makes sense to you. I felt oddly vulnerable writing the end (as if I haven't exposed most of my life on the Internet already), but it was the only way to tie it all together, and why I was thinking about it all in the first place. I'm just glad it works for you. Thanks again.

Oh, it works all right. Add to it that I'm a bleepin' mess after hearing Lennon Legend.

That day in 1980, I was doing radio in Louisville. Went out to dinner with some friends and when we arrived home, I flipped on the TV to catch the football game. Two minutes after turning on the set, Howard Cosell announces that John Lennon has been shot. My friends and I fall into a stunned silence that lasts until I whisper, "What if he..." Then Cosell, obviously affected by the news he is reporting, announces that John Lennon is dead.

We turn on the rock radio station -- as expected, it is playing nonstop Lennon music. After a while, I think to call my mother, who is in Baltimore. She is the one who passed on her Beatles collection to her daughter, so I know she must be distraught. Sadly, I am correct: She is disconsolate, and we end up sitting on the phone all night long, talking. (Worth every penny and then some.) This, Mom says, hits her harder than losing Elvis three years before. (We make sure to spend time together every Dec. 8 to this day; it helps both of us.) The next day, I attend a memorial service at a church near my house. This is Elvis Country, but you can't tell that by the overflow crowd.

In retrospect, that had to be one of the saddest memorials I ever attended. At other, similar events, the goal is to celebrate the life. In this case, the loss was so unimaginable, and the circumstances behind Lennon's death so tragic and cruel, that there was no celebration, no joy -- only despair multiplied by the hundreds of people present.

What helps me deal with that despair, which still resides within me? "Twist and Shout," for one. I think the raucous, physical nature of the song and Lennon's raw, powerful, frenzied singing makes him sound almost invincible -- and that helps, as does the abject exhaustion that comes from wildly twisting and shouting. Ooooh, indeed. Ich bin Ferris Bueller among the frauleins. And as I've learned again in dealing with losing my dad, sometimes the absolute fatigue that follows a massive adrenaline rush is the best way to cope with great loss and sadness.

I dance as often as I can when sad: Early Beatles is often the music of choice to help lift gloom. Another naturally appropriate tune, Lennon's "Whatever Gets You Through the Night." All right.

To this day, though -- and I perform a lot of Beatles and Lennon stuff -- I can't sing "In My Life" without breaking down.

See what you started, Eric? And sheesh, there are three days to go.

Time to shake it up, baby.

Wow, now I'm choked up again, Nat - amazing after all these years.

Amazing, yeah. As they say, though, rock 'n roll never forgets. Pain's acuteness may diminish at times, but recollection can bring it back as piercing and devastating as when it first was inflicted. The good news: Happiness works the same way. I think the wound of Lennon's death -- and certainly Dad's -- will always remain fresh in a way. But then again, so will the joy of the births of my daughter and my son. As will a day in 1970, I think, when my mother played the single "Let It Be" for my brother and me for the first time. I was eight then, and insisted that she play that wonderful music for me every night before bedtime. Which she did. What a happy memory.

Eric, you better share John and Paul and the Beatles with this new baby (c'mon, baby!) and Lily and your other progeny. Then again, I have no doubt that you will.

I will and do: Kristen and Christopher like the old rockers best, Lily likes the ballads - we'll see what the little dude likes. Beautiful thoughts all Nat, thanks so much.

No, thank you. You're one righteous dude.

I was 10 years old when I found out that John Lennon had been shot and killed. My first full length album of any kind was Abbey Road, I had it on 8 track and my dad got it for me that summer as a birthday present. I listened to that album until I knew every song backwards and forwards.

My mom being a hippie and all it was not a far stretch for me to love the Beatles - I grew up on that music.

To this day I remember driving in my dad's car on a cold, winter's night as we listened to a montage of Beatle's and John Lennon songs as the DJ, audibly shaken and tearful talked about the impact and loss of this legend. Not just a musical legend, but a truly unique and otherwordly cultural icon.

I can't possibly understand to the extent that those of you who grew up during the Beatles era must have felt losing this man, but I can tell you that at my tender age of 10 I felt a profound and heartwrenching pain for what was and what would never be again.

Watching my parents breakdown was very hard to take as well.

John will never be forgotten.

Thanks Nat and Dawn, you are very sweet and deep.

I had just reuinted with my girlfriend of the time after six months (she had been in Taiwan), and instead of being joyous we were stricken.

today is the anniversary of John Lennon's murder