All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Michigan Avenue
I have thought a lot about you, John Lennon, as I wandered the street with a pounding headache under the bleary winter sun.
I got tired and cold as I was ridiculed by those who thought themself higher than me. I had your music on repeat in my mind.
I thought sitting down might make it better, but then I could only focus on those around me.
Businessmen with their suits and ties, earpieces in, jabbering like madmen into the thin air.
Women with painted faces and long fingernails, strutting and yet looking behind them every few moments as if they believed they were being watched.
Children who tagged behind their sitters, or ran ahead to glance at the frosted over windows. They treated the skyscrapers like their own playgrounds.
I thought I saw you then, John Lennon. You tapped the shoulders of the busiest men, implored the attention of the most striking women, and smiled at the faces of the young children who thought your beard funny.
You talked to them all, asked of them seemingly pointless question. Had they eaten enough? Would you gift a talented street musician a coin? Did they ever stop to consider the people they passed on the street?
They all turned him down, preferring not to answer the questions that taxed on their conscience, and instead wrote him off as a hippie not worth their time.
I followed you through the shivering crowds of people. From your own purse you dropped bills into the open cases of musicians.
You even gave to the hats of others who had nothing more to spare than a piece of cardboard to plead with us. I had nothing to spare at all.
Where would we go? You seemed to have no intention of a direct path. You followed whatever whims came to you.
(I hum your songs as I imagine our own adventure through the streets, growing increasingly quieter with each bar)
Will we hold our direction and make it to Millenium? Or will we turn towards Navy Pier to gaze at the lake?
You peace seeker, lover of music, and revolutionary. Oh what did you do Lennon? Once you were taken away from the living to dwell in Hades. Do you remember your time here, or was your mind wiped by the river?
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.