Surgery, St. Philip Neri, The Weather, A Paper Route, Black and White TV, and JFK and his wife, Jacqueline – November 22, 1963! I will be thinking of JFK and his assassination 50 years ago tomorrow on my way to the hospital to have surgery at 7:00am. That is why I am writing this tonight. I was 12 years old at the time and like most people my age, November 22, 1963, is indelibly marked in my heart and mind. I will never forget that day. I can recall almost every moment that took place once it was announced over the loud speaker at St. Philip Neri School that JFK had been killed. It was cloudy, drizzling rain, and a little cold. I had an afternoon paper route (Indpls. News) at the time and we waited and waited for the latest edition to come out before we delivered our papers. It was getting into the evening and I believe it was dark by the time I got home. I remember being glued to the black and white TV screen the rest of the weekend as I watched my first, and last, live murder on TV when Jack Ruby shot and killed Lee Harvey Oswald a few days after the assassination. I had never seen anything like that before, or since. My paper route undoubtedly had a lasting impact on me as I walked slowly to my route while reading about JFK and what had happened that day. Not knowing why for sure, I didn’t fold my papers to throw on people’s porches like I usually did. Instead, I laid each paper respectfully at their front door with the front page facing up so people could see the headlines as they reached for the paper. It’s not that people did not already know by that time, but I thought there was something unique about seeing a significant headline in print for the first time and I wanted people to experience that. I just could not believe what had happened that day and I went from being angry, to being sad, to being numb, and back and forth the whole time I was delivering those papers. My mother died four years earlier when I was 8 years old and I knew nothing would ever be the same after that, but when JFK died, the entire world changed and so did I. Forget politics for a moment. As we learned later, JFK was not a perfect man, far from it, but the hope he offered the youth at that time and the enthusiasm he offered the world was extraordinary. His youth, his charm, his wit, his mystique, his handsome looks, his intellect, his charisma, and his beautiful young wife, who was only 34 years old, and two little kids tugged at my heart the day that he was killed. The thing about Jacqueline Kennedy is that she personified dignity, grace, and self-respect and she offered that and her inner strength to the women of the world that weekend simply by her example. Yes, she had a privileged life, but she was a first class person in every sense of the word. Was she perfect? No. I don’t know anyone who is. I loved John F. Kennedy, and I will always think of him and that day he died no matter his many faults and weaknesses. “Johnny, we hardly knew ya,” which may explain why I was not surprised the other day when I heard that over 40,000 books have been written about JFK and his family over the past 50 years. That’s right, 40,000 different books, focusing on the good, the bad, and the ugly of one man and his family. To some degree, maybe that explains the mystique and perhaps the significance of JFK and his family and that time in history. By the way, I am not looking to create any kind of political discussion, debate, or argument here. I just wanted to share a story and some thoughts about an event, a moment of remembrance, about a particularly significant time in my life. RIP John Fitzgerald Kennedy - November 22nd, 1963, 50 years ago!
Posted on: Thu, 21 Nov 2013 23:17:55 +0000
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