Next week, people my age will mark, in astonishment, the half-century mark of the event that changed America and changed us from the young people we were into the type of young people we were to become. Lately, Ive been watching much video and listening to radio airchecks of that day. Such immediacy in these recordings.... At the time, I was the fourteen-year-old you see in the class shot on the right. A memory comes back to me in the midst of the inevitable re-living of it all: We are in Mr. Strandquists ninth-grade science class at Anthony Jr. High in Minneapolis, when Spanish teacher Mr. Diaz walks into the room to announce that The President has been shot and seriously wounded in a Dallas motorcade. The class gasps in shock and surprise, as the two teachers step out into the hall to discuss the turn of events in private. With the teachers out of the room, a classmate stands up, thrusts his arms out in a euphoric, beaming, victory pump, and shouts Hoorayyyyyy! - The deeply disapproving response of the class chills him out in a hurry, and he sits down. Nothing more is said on the matter. I never really knew this kid very well; I dont think I ever spoke to him again during the following four years leading up to graduation. But Ill never forget that gesture, or the fact that its the only memorable thing this kid ever did, to my knowledge. For this reason only, I still remember his name.
Posted on: Tue, 12 Nov 2013 04:49:51 +0000
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