Every year on November 22nd, I recall the day that JFK was assassinated. Just like everyone who was around at that time, I remember it like it was yesterday.
I was in the 6th grade; Ms. Schuller’s class when it happened. There were only a handful of us that were allowed to go to gym class that afternoon, because we were the only ones that had all of our assignments done. (I didn’t really, but I figured I’d go to gym first and worry about the consequences later. It was one of my favorite things). Half way through gym class we were called back into our classroom. Ms. Schuller was teary eyed.
Our President, John F. Kennedy had been shot and killed in Dallas Texas. It was a moment in which the world stood still. A television was brought into our classroom and together we watched as the grim details of the afternoon unfolded. Then we were finally dismissed.
It was a Friday afternoon, and I remember that my older brother was in the hospital with pneumonia that he got every year due to asthma. It was the worst time of year for him. Being a (probably) pretty typical and selfish 6th grader, I was a little upset that my regular programming was cancelled for the weekend (due to the assassination and all).
The images of John and Jackie riding in the limousine and coming to the grassy knoll in Dallas were shown over and over again.
I was a kid in Minnesota at the time, and didn’t have the foggiest clue what a grassy knoll was. But I remember the almost unbearably sad images of his children, Caroline and John Jr. staring in disbelief, certainly too young to comprehend what had happened, but sensing that something horrific had happened. And I remember Jackie, showing unbelievable control at the worst moment of her young life. Even as a 6th grader, the emotion of it was all too real.
Seeing John-John salute his fathers flag draped casket was almost too much to bear.
The horse drawn carriage followed by the family walking in the street was heart wrenching. And I remember the “riderless horse”.
Then, as if the assassination weren’t enough, there was the drama of Lee Harvey Oswald being shot by Jack Ruby. OMG!!! There was no end to it!!!
It’s amazing, that even as a 6th grader, the images of that week were seared into my brain.
Do I think that Oswald was the lone assassin? Not a chance. Not that anyone cares what I think. But we will probably never know. Maybe we’re not meant to.
Rest well John. We hardly knew ye!
