Everybody has a story of where they were when John Lennon was gunned down in New York City the night of December 8, 1980. This writer was at Spit in the backroom waiting to go on stage. I, like millions of others, learned the news from Howard Cosell that Lennon had lost his life. The news came over the air while we were watching the Patriots play the Miami Dolphins on ABC’s Monday Night Football, a game that turned immediately meaningless. You could have heard a feather touch down in that room, as everyone around me was stunned by what happened in New York. It felt like having a piece of your heart ripped out, and you knew right then and there, that things somehow would never be the same again.