Where you were when
22/11/13 05:16
I was in the 5th grade. Our teacher, Mrs. Wolley, had a reputation for being a stern disciplinarian, but I never found her to be much of a problem. Far bigger as a problem in my mind was the gang of girls who seemed to dominate the class. The biggest was Debbie, who lived at the other end of the same block as I did. She had been held back and was older than the rest of us and she was not afraid to use her size to intimidate others. So I learned to get out of the building and head home quickly to stay ahead of Debbie and her pals. We always went home for lunch. Our school’s hot lunch program was held at the high school which was a block farther than our home. Besides family dinner was a big deal for our parents. We were on the lunch-dinner-supper plan. Dad closed his shop for an hour between noon and 1 pm and we all sat down together.
My sister, the seventh-grader, traveled with other girls and It wasn’t hard to beat her home. They had to talk. My little brother was in the second grade and he had yet to ever arrive anywhere on time. He’s 57 now and he is no less a slave to the clock than he was in those days. He knew the names of all of the cats and dogs that inhabited the block between the school and our home and he needed to check in on each of them. There was no problem with my being the first one home for lunch. The little boys would be home already. Kindergarten got out at 11:30 and the youngest wasn’t even old enough to go there. Some days I could get as much as five minutes upstairs with my train board before having to sit at the table with the family.
I knew when I entered the house that this wasn’t an ordinary day, however. The television was on and mom was paying intense attention to the news program that was running. Television was a rather recent addition to our house. Everyone else in the neighborhood had a television before our family got one. It was reserved for evenings, however. Our folks watched the news and there were a few programs that we got to watch on Friday, Saturday and Sunday evenings. I checked to see if anyone was home sick, which was the other reason the TV might be on, but there was no one convalescing on the daybed. We knew better than to fake sickness in our home anyway. Mom was a nurse. She could tell. And if you were truly sick, you’d be treated for whatever ailed you.
The only other reason for the television in our house to be on before the evening news was a space shot. We all watched together as Alan Shepherd blasted off when I was 7 and we had watched every space shot since. Aviation and space were a big deal in our family.
I asked Mom what was going on. She shushed me for a minute and then told me that the President had been shot. I watched the pictures of people in hallways and shots of police cars with flashing lights in some distant city. I have a clear memory of Walter Cronkite sitting at a desk in shirt and tie, but without the jacket that was normally worn for evening news, making the announcement of the death of President Kennedy. After the announcement he removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. I have watched the re-run so many times that now I don’t know whether or not I actually saw it on that day or only watched reruns later. In my memory I was at home for the announcement.
It was a somber lunch at our house, our folks talking in low tones. We kids were pretty subdued, thought I’m sure that I asked whether or not we had to go back to school. We’d never known the death of a President. I didn’t know if school would go on as usual when such an event happen or not. We did return to school, but the rest of the day wasn’t devoted to the regular schedule. The principal came to each class room and made an announcement about the death of the president. I don’t remember what he said, but he spoke in the same somber tone that he used at church and he said something about the assassination of President Lincoln as well as the death of President Kennedy.
It is one of the things that marks people my age and older. We can all remember where we were when we heard the news on that day. Those who are younger don’t have as clear memories of the day and those who are a decade or more younger weren’t alive when President Kennedy was shot. We didn’t know that it was the start of a tumultuous decade that was also marred by the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy.
The scenes of the funeral still replay in my mind as if I were watching them on television. I remember the flag-draped casket in the horse drawn cortege, the shot of John John saluting the flag, the soldiers standing neatly at attention with tears on their cheeks. And I remember it all as we watched it: in black and white.
Everyone knew what the topic of conversation would be at the post office and grocery store and church for the next few weeks. We were going through a deep grief together. President Kennedy hadn’t garnered a majority in my county in the election, but there was more respect for the office than is demonstrated these days. There were no sick jokes or mean comments that I heard. We were a nation in mourning and we all participated without distinction of party or denomination.
So today, as our nation remembers what happened 50 years ago, some of us have clear memories of that time. Others struggle to understand how that event became such a turning point.
I remember my mother’s words on that day: “Pray for peace.”
I’m still praying for peace.
My sister, the seventh-grader, traveled with other girls and It wasn’t hard to beat her home. They had to talk. My little brother was in the second grade and he had yet to ever arrive anywhere on time. He’s 57 now and he is no less a slave to the clock than he was in those days. He knew the names of all of the cats and dogs that inhabited the block between the school and our home and he needed to check in on each of them. There was no problem with my being the first one home for lunch. The little boys would be home already. Kindergarten got out at 11:30 and the youngest wasn’t even old enough to go there. Some days I could get as much as five minutes upstairs with my train board before having to sit at the table with the family.
I knew when I entered the house that this wasn’t an ordinary day, however. The television was on and mom was paying intense attention to the news program that was running. Television was a rather recent addition to our house. Everyone else in the neighborhood had a television before our family got one. It was reserved for evenings, however. Our folks watched the news and there were a few programs that we got to watch on Friday, Saturday and Sunday evenings. I checked to see if anyone was home sick, which was the other reason the TV might be on, but there was no one convalescing on the daybed. We knew better than to fake sickness in our home anyway. Mom was a nurse. She could tell. And if you were truly sick, you’d be treated for whatever ailed you.
The only other reason for the television in our house to be on before the evening news was a space shot. We all watched together as Alan Shepherd blasted off when I was 7 and we had watched every space shot since. Aviation and space were a big deal in our family.
I asked Mom what was going on. She shushed me for a minute and then told me that the President had been shot. I watched the pictures of people in hallways and shots of police cars with flashing lights in some distant city. I have a clear memory of Walter Cronkite sitting at a desk in shirt and tie, but without the jacket that was normally worn for evening news, making the announcement of the death of President Kennedy. After the announcement he removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. I have watched the re-run so many times that now I don’t know whether or not I actually saw it on that day or only watched reruns later. In my memory I was at home for the announcement.
It was a somber lunch at our house, our folks talking in low tones. We kids were pretty subdued, thought I’m sure that I asked whether or not we had to go back to school. We’d never known the death of a President. I didn’t know if school would go on as usual when such an event happen or not. We did return to school, but the rest of the day wasn’t devoted to the regular schedule. The principal came to each class room and made an announcement about the death of the president. I don’t remember what he said, but he spoke in the same somber tone that he used at church and he said something about the assassination of President Lincoln as well as the death of President Kennedy.
It is one of the things that marks people my age and older. We can all remember where we were when we heard the news on that day. Those who are younger don’t have as clear memories of the day and those who are a decade or more younger weren’t alive when President Kennedy was shot. We didn’t know that it was the start of a tumultuous decade that was also marred by the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Bobby Kennedy.
The scenes of the funeral still replay in my mind as if I were watching them on television. I remember the flag-draped casket in the horse drawn cortege, the shot of John John saluting the flag, the soldiers standing neatly at attention with tears on their cheeks. And I remember it all as we watched it: in black and white.
Everyone knew what the topic of conversation would be at the post office and grocery store and church for the next few weeks. We were going through a deep grief together. President Kennedy hadn’t garnered a majority in my county in the election, but there was more respect for the office than is demonstrated these days. There were no sick jokes or mean comments that I heard. We were a nation in mourning and we all participated without distinction of party or denomination.
So today, as our nation remembers what happened 50 years ago, some of us have clear memories of that time. Others struggle to understand how that event became such a turning point.
I remember my mother’s words on that day: “Pray for peace.”
I’m still praying for peace.