Where were you the night John Lennon died? If you’re 40-plus years old, the chances are you remember where you were—just as you might, if you’re 60-plus years old, remember where you were the day President John F. Kennedy died—or, if you’re 15-plus years old, remember where you were the morning the twin towers of the World Trade Center were attacked.

It’s hard to believe that December 8th of this year marks the 30th anniversary of Lennon’s death near 72nd Street and Central Park West in New York. Three decades have whizzed by like a dream. Yet the events of Lennon’s last night alive are, for me, a nightmare from which I still haven’t quite awoken.

The strength of Paul Ingles’s hour-long piece partly involves his recordings of Lennon’s fans recollecting where they were and what they did when they learned of John’s death. Shock and disbelief were what these fans felt. It’s significant that in his piece Ingles mentions nothing about Lennon’s killer, Mark David Chapman. For that matter, Ingles only once mentions the name of the venerable Dakota apartment building, where John and Yoko Ono made their home, outside of which Chapman waited with his weapon.

First and foremost this is a tribute to Lennon. Therefore, it doesn’t need to bring in Lennon’s killer or recreate the Gothic weirdness of the Dakota, where the movie “Rosemary’s Baby” had been set in 1968. On the contrary, Ingles livens up “The Day John Lennon Died” with some of Lennon’s terrific—deathless—songs, including “Imagine,” whose title is in the middle of the mosaic of inlaid stones in Central Park’s Strawberry Fields Memorial, not far from the Dakota.

What’s more, Ingles records ample selections from an interview Lennon gave earlier on the day of his death. It’s a strong interview—as wise and funny as the leader of the Beatles was. Thirty years haven’t taken him away from us. It’s possible that 300 years won’t either.