approximately infinite universe

it was 1970, and i was sitting in junior high band class next to my friend kim, who i’d known since first grade. she’d always had really good taste in music, and she was also the only girl in elementary school to actually own, and wear, a paper dress (bright pink with huge graphic white daisies – not that it made an impression on me or anything). between her wardrobe and her collection of 45’s, i thought she was about as cool as you could get. consequently, i was thrilled we sat next to each other so we could talk about the latest albums. she had just bought ‘live peace in toronto’ by the plastic ono band – john lennon’s first foray into post-beatles life. kim thought side one was okay, but the other side contained only two very long yoko ono songs. “all she really does is scream” was kim’s succinct review. that was all it took to intrigue me. i hinted for a few days until she offered to let me borrow the record.

i’d heard about yoko ono. she was ‘the woman who broke up the beatles’. i had read about her strange, minimal artwork and her mysterious persona that lured john lennon into her evil trap. of course, all of that was completely untrue, but thats how she was seen in those days. most of all i was curious about her ‘music’ (people often referred to it in quotes – sometimes they still do). when kim brought the record to school i couldn’t wait to get home and hide out in the basement and listen.

i didn’t really care about side one – the old rock and roll cover tunes that john played – i’d get to that later. i dropped side two onto the turntable and set the needle on. “yoko’s going to do her thing…all over you” john announces. and then, yoko begins. screaming. howling. making sounds i didn’t realize a human could make. the band flails behind her. i stood dumbfounded for a moment and then began laughing hysterically. the thing is, i didn’t find it one bit funny – its only as i’ve gotten older that i realize i sometimes laugh out loud – with joy, excitement, thrill – at something that grabs me deep inside and won’t let go. i couldn’t believe what i was hearing. it was amazing in a way i couldn’t yet put into words.

something changed for me that day. i had fallen into the world of the avant-garde and i was hooked. i started reading everything i could find about yoko and her work. i bought her book of minimalist poetry, “grapefruit” – i’d never read anything like it. it seemed incredibly quirky to a 14 year old country boy, but i was mesmerized, and began to see the world in a totally different way. this was a woman with an amazing imagination, expressing herself and her opinions without walls or borders. the images and ideas were frequently breathtaking, vivid and beautiful.

eventually, yoko made her own albums. on a trip to denver i cajoled my parents into taking me to a store called ‘gem’ (sort of an early version of target) where i had to special order the double album “fly”. the cover featured a portrait of yoko’s face, and i remember my mother being tremendously embarrassed as i carried it to the checkout. i’m still not sure why. i love that album – 2 sides of more conventional songs, and 2 sides of extreme, experimental music. i listened to it incessantly and even made up reasons why i needed to take it to school, so i could carry it around where people could see how hip, progressive and worldly i was. i probably don’t need to mention their actual reaction was more like disgust and confusion. for me, that was just the start of enduring years and years of yoko-bashing. i quickly learned to shrug it off and carry the torch for this singular artist.

many years later, after her solo albums, after john’s ‘lost weekend’, their retreat into domesticity, and then his murder, a friend of mine was working in a denver art gallery. through some cosmic coincidence, the gallery booked a show of john lennon’s lithographs, and to my complete shock, yoko was slated to appear at the opening. my friend managed to get me a job working the t-shirt table outside the gallery during the reception. i arrived in the afternoon and took my post behind a long table piled with colorful shirts. yoko was inside doing press – though i couldn’t see her, i was practically vibrating with excitement. she was less than 50 feet away. suddenly, an entourage spilled out of the gallery, and before i could really think, yoko ono was standing across the t-shirt table, 3 feet from me, surveying everything. i was absolutely, completely speechless. she looked at me. we smiled at each other. i was frozen in place and could not utter a word. and then, she strolled back into the throng of handlers and was in the car and gone. i have no memory what happened for several hours after that.

later that evening, after the opening – literally thousands of people crowded the streets to listen to yoko speak from a podium on the sidewalk – there was a private reception at the hotel where she was staying. my friend, to whom i owe everything, got me an invitation to that event. it was crowded, and i surreptitiously kept my eye on yoko from across the room. i hope i appeared cool, but i was not calm. i was not collected. i was in the presence of someone i had worshipped for nearly 20 years, and it was overwhelming. finally, i saw my opportunity. yoko was perched at the edge of a sofa, with no one around. i approached her, smiled, and kneeled down before her (which even in the moment struck me as oddly appropriate). i told her how i had always loved her work, how it had changed my life. how it taught me that imagination and creativity should have no walls around them. how important it is to be utterly brave and fearless to create. at first she had a quizzical look on her face, and i found myself thinking “oh god, do i have it all wrong? have i misinterpreted everything???”  but then she smiled and started nodding, thanking me repeatedly. she was gracious and kind and receptive, and i was over the moon. sadly, i’d prepared and rehearsed my speech and delivered it flawlessly, but when i was done i had absolutely nothing else to say – i couldn’t dredge up casual conversation once i had elevated her onto the pedestal. in retrospect, i’m sure this has happened to her countless times. yet, i said what i had always wanted to say – thank you. i was in heaven.

yoko has continued to create art and art installations, and even began making music again. a few years ago i was in new york, and went to one of several of her exhibitions i’ve been lucky enough to see. finally, both her art and music are starting to be recognized as the groundbreaking and influential work that they are. the punks, the rocker grrrls, experimentalists like sonic youth – all credit her as a major inspiration. at the gallery, i picked up a postcard – a picture of yoko on the front, and on the back, a quote from the ny times: “as an instrument, yoko’s voice is in every way the equal to hendrix’s guitar or miles davis’ trumpet. this woman is a genius. and god, how stupid lennon must have thought the rest of the world was for not seeing this.”

its true. and i’m happy to say, i knew it all along.