It’s a little bit strange, to remember the details of that November, in 1963, so vividly.
I asked my coworkers: Where were you when….
And most of them were not even born back then.
I was in high school, in a science class.
The intercom announced that the president had been shot.
The science teacher didn’t even blink. He continued on with class.
He asked me a question.
I couldn’t concentrate.
When it was time to go home, I walked 3 miles with a heavy heart.
Our president was dead.
My family had gathered around the television set.
It was black and white.
I thought I saw a tear in the eye of the reporter.
Is that blood on Jackie’s pink suit?
We have a new president.
I am not sure I like him.
We watched every black and white moment.
The scene at the police station, the murder of the assassin.
And the funeral: Jackie holding on to her children, and Bobby.
The drums, music, carriage, horses, and John John, saluting his father’s casket.
Jackie and her black veil, with that dazed look.
In a moment’s time, our country changed.
There are some things that never leave our memories.
We know where we were when…. and it is forever etched in our minds and hearts.
51 years later and it seems like yesterday.
The flame is eternal.
Strange, isn’t it? How November 22nd brings back those painful memories.
And I still see it in black and white.