The Day JFK Died- 1963

    
    THE DAY KENNEDY DIED
         November, 1963 

      Philadelphia, PA

       The feel of Thanksgiving is filling the air. A long weekend is ahead of me and that is all that is on my mind. I am a third grader, eight years old, sitting in my classroom. I  see an older student come in to the back of the classroom and speak quietly to Sister Angela Marie.  I think I hear her say that the president was shot. I tell the girl in front of me but we are not sure what all of this meant.  Moments later we are dismissed from school so we can be with our families. Sadness seeped into the pores of every adult I see.  I run home with a sense of urgency to tell my mother this very important news.  

      As I  get to our front door, I ring the doorbell and a very large, black woman answers the door.  She startles me and then I remember that my mother had just hired someone to help with the house cleaning.

     "I have to find my mother," I blurt out to her, “The president’s been shot.  I have to tell my mother.” She lets me in and points to the TV room upstairs.  I charge up the steps and find my mother and Mrs. Hunt sitting on the couch.  Both women are crying.  It had just been announced that he was died.  

For the next few days, everyone cries. And when I think there could be no more tears, we watch little John-John salute his father as the casket rolled past him and my Republican mother weeps out loud.

To read more stories, check out:   bkmemoirs.blogspot.com

 or  bkmemoirs.wordpress.com