Disparate Thoughts

My favorite episode of Quantum Leap is the first part of a multi-episode story arc called, "The Leap Home." In it, Sam leaps into himself as a teenager. He's in high school, the star of the basketball team and his parents are still alive. Most importantly, his older brother has yet to leave for Vietnam, where he will be killed. It's an emotional episode where Sam struggles, despite his actual mission of winning the big game, to find a way to change history so that his brother lives. Sam attempts to convince his brother that he knows what will happen to him in the future and that he should heed his warnings. Of course, everyone thinks he's crazy and a little burnt out with the pressures of high school. His little sister entertains his flights of fancy, however, and in one scene asks him to tell her what's going to happen with her favorite band, The Beatles, particularly her most favorite Beatle of all, John. Sam looks at her sadly for a moment and stutters as he tries to find a non-heartbreaking way to answer. He then says, "John is going to go on to write my favorite song." He then begins to play "Imagine" for her on the guitar. His sister listens happily for a moment, but her expression shortly changes and she starts to cry. Sam stops playing and asks her what's wrong. The thing is, she knows the Beatles well. They're her favorite band. But she doesn't know that song. Which means, of course, that Sam is telling the truth and their brother will, in fact, be killed.

My friend Mindy got me into The Beatles when I was 15. Mindy was a year ahead of me in school and was the daughter of a Baptist minister. She wore Treetorns, studied drama and listened to good music, not the crap on the radio. She had just moved to Tarrant from Mobile when we met. I was still in middle school and played a baby spider to her Charlotte in Tarrant High School's production of Charlotte's Web. During the production, I developed a crush on Chris Bryant who played Templeton and looked like Eddie Money. When I started high school the next year, Mindy took me under her wing. We listened to music and she helped me decide between dating Chris or Alan Patillo. Alan had a Mustang, played guitar, loved the Beatles and could draw them realistically. Chris had fathered Heather Moore's baby and was failing out of school, but he bought me a crystal figurine and wrote romantic notes. Mindy understood that this was a difficult choice, even if no one else did.

When I was in college I hung a photo on the door to my room of John and Yoko kissing. I defended their relationship when the guys I flipped burgers with at Cheeburger Cheeburger made fun of them. Three years ago, I called my brother from the bathroom of Scruffy Duffy's pub and asked if it was justifiable to punch someone in the face for saying they hated John Lennon. He gave me good council: "Yes, but don't."

John Lennon is the same age as my dad. The Beatles, 1962-1966 was the only tape of mine he ever let me play in his car. He retired this year. John is still dead. Mindy and I are still friends despite everything. My heart is still full and empty all at once.