Sharing My Story

Then in late 1963 the totally unexpected
happened—assasination of President Kennedy.
I remember sitting in my tenth grade
geometry class and the principal came
over the room public address system
announcing that the governor of Texas
had been killed and the President severely
wounded in Dallas, Texas (actually it was the
other way around we found out later).

There was a silence in the room.
Our teacher encouraged us and assured
us everything would be alright. I recall sitting
at home on a cold rainy morning (and afternoon)
several days later (school had been cancelled
because of the National Day of Mourning) glued
to the TV watching the funeral of JFK. There was
little John Jr. saluting his slain father and
Mrs Kennedy and Robert and Ted the President’s
brothers riding in a car following the horse
drawn casket. Part of me wanted to be doing
something else but another part of me
wanted to keep watching.

I realized that real history changing events
were happening. Presidential assasinations were
rare events—it had been almost 100 years since
Lincoln’s murder.

I had mixed feelings. I was never a Kennedy fan,
but I also never wanted him killed. I wanted him
to finish out his term of office and possibly be
defeated for re-election (though in hindsight he
probably would have been re-elected).
A very sad time for our nation.