November 22, 1963, nothing special about that day when I woke up that morning. I was 12 years old, only a month away from being a teen. Made my usual breakfast and put my 8th grade tie on for school. Pick up my books, same place I left them Thursday afternoon, and my patrol belt. Off to school but looking forward to the weekend. Since it was Friday we were having our usual Civics test so I had to find Rich Coaker to get the answers to the test, everybody got the answers but we couldnt all get 100 so had to miss a couple. Started out with Religion then Spelling, Math and Civics. OK finally time to get home for lunch. Cheese sandwich, not fun being Catholic in the 60s. Turn on the TV and watch Bozo Buckets. Time to get back to school. Start walking with Kevin McNicholas and meet others along the way. Line up and in we go, and then. Mr Kerberg has something to say to us. I dont think Im in trouble. Why is he turning off the lights, must be going to have a movie. He tells us to pray for the president. An announcement comes on : The President was shot in Dallas. Well everybody has their own story from this point. All of a sudden the weekend and my birthday werent as important.
Posted on: Fri, 22 Nov 2013 04:02:12 +0000
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