Friday, November 22, 2013

I Remember November 22, 1963

I was in first grade in 1963.  I remember the day President Kennedy was killed like it was yesterday.

 

1st Grade Me

 

First grade was the first time I had attended school of any kind as I did not go to kindergarten.  I was a shy, quiet, and sheltered child. 

 

On Friday, November 22, 1963 in the afternoon, there was a knock on the door of our classroom at Webster Elementary School in Perry, Iowa.  Our teacher, Mrs. Lindell, went to the door and left the room.  Moments later, she came back.  She was crying.

 

Mrs. Lindell was a very sweet lady.  Something had made her cry and that disturbed me.   

        

Mrs. Lindell

Shortly after this, a bell rang.  We were dismissed, bundled up in our winter jackets, and sent home for the remainder of the day.  I walked home two blocks west and two and a half blocks south to our house. 

That afternoon, my mom and brother Jimmy sat at the kitchen table and explained to me what had happened.  Our president, John F. Kennedy, was dead.

Sadness overwhelmed us.  I think our nation was in shock.  I remember a long period of shared grief as everyone watched the news unfold on television.  It was truly a dark period for our country.

More than 30 years later, on a trip to Dallas, Texas, my husband and I took our children to the Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza in what was once the Texas School Book Depository building.  I stood at the window from which our president had been shot.  It made me sad.  My husband said it was eerie.

In 2000, when my husband, son, and I went on vacation to Washington, DC for the July 4th celebration, our first stop was Arlington Cemetery.  It was a very solemn and moving experience as we stood before the eternal flame at the burial place of President Kennedy, Jacqueline, baby Patrick and their daughter, Arabella.

After 50 years, America still mourns the death of President Kennedy.  We, who were alive on that day, will never forget how it touched our lives.