John was my Beatle. In the '60s, when I was a pre-tween in London and the Beatles were gods, you were required to choose your favorite. So I thought about it: Paul was too smiley, so was Ringo, and George was a bit taciturn. But John was complicated. He was acerbic and angry, but there was a tear in his voice. So I grew into my teens in a bedroom covered with pictures of John. Which could be why, even decades later, if an opportunity to see John arises I'm there.