I remember with vivid clarity the early afternoon on November 22, 1963 as Mrs. Brown silently slipped into our eighth grade English classroom with large tear drops rolling down her cheeks as she turned on the intercom so we could hear the radio broadcast. Overwhelmed with emotion, she could say nothing. The unspeakable began to unfold before our very ears. With no televisions in school, the radio offered us the closest link to history as the intercom crackled with bewildering and confusing news. Something awful had happened in Dallas. Someone in the presidential motorcade had been shot, but who?
We all sat there in disbelief. Assassination was something we read about in our history books far removed from our own lives. The confusion of the radio report told us that in our nation of freedom and liberty something horrific was unfolding in Dallas. The radio announcer, obviously stunned beyond belief only added to our own anxiety. Who had been shot, and were they dead.
It is all part of this surreal Friday. I recall walking alone down Ash Street from the Peterson School just two blocks from my home. At thirteen years of age, there were a host of things running through my mind. Everything from the early dismissal of school to the cancellation of the night’s basketball games to the event in far away Dallas spun uncontrollably through my head.
Upon arriving home, I remember going to the living room and sitting in front of the black and white television. I remember watching and listening. I do not remember ever leaving the images or sounds of the television over the course of the next few days. Not until the muffled drums marching down Pennsylvania Avenue were silent, and the President laid to rest under the eternal flame at Arlington did I turn away. And as I turned away, even at thirteen, I knew things would never be the same.
The only thing that saddens me more than the assassination of John F. Kennedy is the manner in which so many people have tried to discredit his name over the past forty-six years since he sacrificed his life for this nation. John F. Kennedy believed in the United States of America. He had a vision for a great nation and a world at peace. He believed that the strength of our nation was found in the tapestry of differences that bound us together in a common fabric of liberty and justice. John F. Kennedy believed that this nation represented the great hope of the world. He knew this nation must be the beacon to light the way for a better world.
Forty-six years ago, we lost a young leader with vision and courage. In nineteen-eighty, Edward Kennedy reminded us why we must remember when he said, “the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.” As for me, I shall always remember!
~ Bill
