by Jude Southerland Kessler … https://www.johnlennonseries.
I’ve used the photo above a zillion times … in press releases, in articles, on various websites. But about a week ago, I came upon the original photo – the unedited version, taken about 2 1/2 years ago at a symphony party in my hometown of Natchitoches, Louisiana. And this is what I saw:
In the immediate background, just over my shoulder, you can see my mom in a pale pink pantsuit. She’s right behind me … and she’s been there all the while. I never knew.
This full and complete picture set me to thinking: Who is in the background now? Whom am I allowing to fade into the shadows, unnoticed, while I concentrate on things that are (arguably) “more important?” Whom am I overlooking – and whom are you overlooking – as we race around madly, smiling for the camera?
Most people spend a minimum of eight hours a day at work. For The Beatles, especially in 1964-1966, that was a laughable minimum! They spent 10 solid hours a day filming, interviewing, starring on TV and radio shows, recording, mixing, touring, composing, editing, and taking photographs.
And for John Lennon – who also wrote, illustrated, edited, and promoted two books of poetry and prose during that time frame (late at night, at home) — the workload was far greater! Twelve hours a day, some days. Pressured.
And so, John’s wife Cynthia and his toddler son Julian slipped into the shadows. And so did his Aunt Mimi, who had raised him. And so did his sisters, Jacqui and Julia. John loved them all, intensely. But he just didn’t have enough hours in the day. And so, over John’s shoulder, in a dimmer light, they waited.
And waited and waited and waited.
The question John had to answer and the question posed to all of us is this:“Is it worth the sacrifice?” “Are our priorities in order?” Or (to phrase it as Ben Franklin once did), “Are we paying too much for the whistle?”
Ever since I saw that unedited photo of my mom and me, I’ve begun noticing other photos: photos tacked to cubicles; photos taped to workstations of nurses, postal employees, DMV employees, and lab workers; photos of the people who linger in the shadows, people who get one to three hours of quality time from us a night … or occasionally, a brief weekend reunion.
The Beatles once sang:
Hello! Hello!’
I don’t know why you say, ‘Goodbye,’ I say, ‘Hello!
Had I known – when that photograph of me was taken – that only six months later, my mom would be gone, I would have stopped and noticed. I would have spent more time with her, asked her more questions, learned more, shared more, appreciated more. I hardly think I would have said:
I would have changed my tune.
We are all incredibly busy. Every day we are challenged to press on. But as we “go, go, go,” precious time is slipping away from us: Time to notice. Time to care. Time to tell them we love them. Time to share.
Is it time to readjust the lens of our lives? I think it just might be.
