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Julia lennon missing child8/26/2023 Hitler’s Luftwaffe was extremely interested in this industrialized zone with its munitions factories, rail network and busy seaport, but despite the young John’s pleas to Julia, Freddie was sent packing and John Winston was returned to the care of his houseproud Aunty Mimi and dairy farmer Uncle George, at Mendips on Menlove Avenue, where he’d been living for a year. He would return 6 years laterand attempt to make amends with the young lad by offering to take him to New Zealand. The boy’s father, Alfred, a professional coward and merchant seaman was away on a voyage. On a dank, blustery evening in October 1940 at the Oxford Street Maternity hospital in Liverpool, Julia Stanley Lennon gave birth to a bouncing bundle of boy joy whom she named John Winston. Its 7 year itch the adoption of its offspring by Northern Songs and some time foster parent Michael Jackson the tender temptations of Jane, Cynthia, Yoko, Linda, May Pang and others the psychedelic side-trips the jesters in the High Court a very public airing of some dirty laundry lyrics and finally, like two great lions in a butcher’s shop who have matured enough to realize there’s enough meat in the market for both of them … a mutual, if grudging respect. This unconventional partnership, much like a paradigmatic marriage, had endured its sundry situations … its honeymoon period Mark David Chapman’s selfish quest for his Warhol-esque fifteen minutes of fame was the fatal wound to an injured relationship that had lasted almost 23 years. I’m certainly not implying anything of a carnal nature here, but to almost all intents and porpoises (as John would have put it), what they had was a marriage. I had lost my Uncle John, the myopic, misunderstood, manipulative, mystifying Mop-Top who had helped me to learn to ride a bicycle Julian and Sean had lost a father Cynthia, her knight in shining armour Yoko, a fellow artist, contemporary and house husband … and Paul? Well, call me crazy, but he lost the wife. He and the world had just lost someone very dear to them. He was brought up in the guilt-ridden Catholic mind set of “.” “Let’s not talk about it son,” a la father Jimmy Mac. My beloved step-brother was never one to deal with soul wrenching grief in a practical manner. “ It’s a drag.” Paul McCartney, England, December 8, 1980.
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