We all have sentinel moments in our lives that stand out. We remember precisely how we found out, where we were, and how we felt. The images and feelings sink deep.
One ordinary school day in November 1963, I heard a light knock on our classroom door. Our principal, entered the room, his face betrayed his personal grief and his heavy responsibilities.
He moved to the front of the room, took a breath, and shared with us the tragic news of the death of our president at the hands of an unknown assassin in Dallas. The class responded with shock and with some audible sobs.
Our principal said that the bus drivers had been notified to report to the school in an hour to take the students home. Those who walked to school were free to leave immediately. I did.
A half hour later, I walked into our living room, the lights out and the shades drawn. The darkness stands out in my mind today, almost fifty years later.
My mom sat in the dark room, rocking in her chair, and crying openly. Her heart was broken. She loved President Kennedy.
A lifelong Democrat, Mom had enjoyed the nation's enthusiasm of the handsome young president who had engaged the nation's young in the political process. The optimistic air of new hope and change had captivated the press, and therefore, the nation.
For three days we watched accounts on television of the assassination and retrospectives on Kennedy's life. We even saw his killer take a bullet to his belly. That was the first death I had ever witnessed live. We watched the funeral procession where Kennedy's three-year-old son, John John, saluted his father's coffin as it passed in the horse drawn hearse.
In the months ahead, the nation grieved more deeply when revelations surfaced about the sordid life and corrupt politics of the president. Turns out, his political maneuverings seemed as totalitarian and oppressive as those of his rival Fidel Castro.
As I sit in seat 1A on my flight to Chicago, and then on to St. Cloud, trying to type through tears collected on my glasses, I realize the tears aren't for the tragic death I and my country experienced so long ago. I weep for my mom. Her idealism was taken from her by someone masquerading as a great man. She hasn't fully recovered.
I pray my children and grandchildren can be spared such grief.
