Just Yoko and Me
Once, on a weekday while playing hooky at New York’s Museum of Modern Art, I encountered a famous figure in one of the galleries. The dark, oversized sunglasses and derby hat were unmistakable, as was her face. As she pondered work after work in a series of galleries that held only the two of us, I pondered her. This encounter took place in the ’90s. I am fairly certain I was not visiting a special exhibition but rather MoMA’s permanent collection. The evident thoughtfulness and scrutiny Yoko brought to each work only underscored my characteristic dilettantism . I was now there to gawk; she was there to absorb art. Like most people, I only knew Yoko Ono as the notorious spouse who broke up The Beatles and as a famous New Yorker. She was the ultimate rock-and-roll villain, and here I was, chillin’ with the villain. A part of me wanted to approach and ask, “How could you?” even though it is well documented that her role as the breakup agent was a myth . Another part of me wanted to ask h...
