A Lennon musical?

I'm going to spend the rest trying to get my head around this nugget of information. There is going to be a Lennon musical. We are an odd culture...
This reminds me, tangentially, of something I wrote about Lennon's 20th anniversary of his death:
I've been reading all day about the effect John Lennon had on the masses - the icon he has become and the myth that has formed from his short life.

I must say, I don't get it. It's foreign to me how one person could influence and move so many. I must be a product of my time, as I've never grown up with a living icon.

All our icons are dead, and I've grown up knowing that.

No cultural icons, except the memory, the words and the photos. Maybe the physical presence is not as important as the message, but we can't really separate the two. There is also no replacement for hearing the words in the now, as opposed to reading them in textbooks.

With this understanding, I debated going into New York on December 8 to commemorate the man and his music, the music I grew up with. The Beatles had been, and still are, my favorite band, and John Lennon, by far my favorite of the four - but still I debated.

The solution, for any die-hard John Lennon or Beatles fan, should have been simple. Go up to New York, Central Park, Strawberry Fields. Join the hundreds or thousands who had gathered to share the message with others. Sing. Remember. Go in peace.

But it's been 20 years. His message and his music are still here, but he's not.

I still can't understand why more people gather on the anniversary of his death rather than his birth. Why remember when he was taken away rather than when he arrived?

I think that finally sealed it for me. I didn't want to remember his death. I know too much about it to begin with. I didn't want to be another fan singing with others on the anniversary of his death. That's not doing much.

Then again, that might be too tidy of an explanation. It's cold outside, and New York is 1 1/2 hours away. That might be the real reason.

It's a sad reason none the less. The man who helped shape my beliefs and tastes, and meant so much to me as I was growing up, gave his life, and I can't give him a train ride and a few hours in the cold.

And still I wonder why I feel we have no more prophets. It should be obvious to me. There requires a certain give and take between the messenger and the masses.
And we stopped giving.