Forty-five Years Ago

John Kennedy once stated that there were two events that the American people would never forget: The bombing of Pearl Harbor and the day that President Roosevelt died...

On the afternoon of November 22, 1963, I was at a pep rally for our school's first basketball game of the season. Bismarck Grade School, Bismarck, Illinois--enrollment-400. I was an eighth-grader, thirteen years old. I had taken my transistor radio to the rally, but had turned it off because all I could get was news about some shooting somewhere.

When the pep rally was over and we all returned to our classrooms, the intercom was turned on, giving us live coverage from Dallas. We all just sat there for about ten minutes, wondering what was going on. Then the newscaster finally told us that the president had been shot.

I think my first reaction was one of disbelief. I think that same feeling must have been shared by my classmates. Nobody cried. Nobody seemed upset. Nobody knew how we were supposed to feel. Nobody knew how we were supposed to react. I wanted to say something funny and have everybody laugh, and then find out that this whole assassination thing was a big hoax. But I didn't. It wasn't.

The thing I remember most is Mr. Winland, our teacher, writing on the blackboard, "Let's hope the gunman is an American." He must have seen the puzzlement on our faces because a few moments later he wrote, "What if he's a Russian?" School ended early that day. It wasn't until we got home that we learned that President Kennedy had died.

It snowed that night in east-central Illinois. Our basketball game did not get called off. We played Armstrong. We won. That was the only activity we had that weekend to take our minds off of what had happened. Everything else just shut down--the factories, the theaters, even some of the stores. The only thing on television was news of the assassination and all of the other events surrounding it.

On Sunday our church was fuller than I had ever seen it. There were people there that I had only ever seen on Easter, and there were many that I had never seen there before. I suppose that, for many, church seemed the proper place to mourn.

Monday was the funeral. Most of my family--aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.--met at my grandparents’ home to watch it on television. I had never seen a funeral for a president. I did not understand the significance of the riderless horse. I did not understand the Catholic mass. But I had been to other funerals. I understood the tears.

Most of my knowledge of John F. Kennedy has come after his death. I was too young while he was alive to have known about all of the politics. But I do remember the man. I remember his enthusiasm. I remember his humor (I still have a copy of "The First Family" which he enjoyed very much). I remember the Cuban missile crisis and President Kennedy's television speech that helped assure our nation.

I remember Jackie and her hats. I remember Caroline and John-John, and Bobby and Teddy, and football on the White House lawn. I remember Camelot. But most of all, I remember that day--November 22, 1963. I think that is the day I began to realize that the world is not a magical kingdom. I think that is the day I began to grow up.

I wrote the following essay in December 1987 as a Rhetoric assignment.

This past month, we marked the twenty-fourth anniversary of the assassination of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, slain November 22, 1963. As we remember Kennedy and his times, for most of us, the day-to-day workings of the government have long been forgotten. But what we cannot forget, what we refuse to forget, is the feeling, the attitude, that prevailed during his 'Thousand Days' in the presidency. Kennedy's time was a time of hope, a time of dreams--hope and dreams that, maybe, with faith and effort, we truly could solve all the problems of this world; that a generation had finally emerged that could leave the world a better place than it was before.

Kennedy's time was often referred to as 'Camelot,' that fairy tale society in which every knight of the Table Round was equal, judged only by his deeds and faithfulness.
Kennedy was our 'king,’ our Arthur, whose drive to bring equality to all citizens, especially the black and the poor, gathered in the young of our nation and gave them a sense of purpose and a desire to improve the lot of each person. The establishment of VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America) and the Peace Corps during Kennedy's 'reign' showed his concern for all of his 'subjects' as well as his concern for all people, whether within or without his 'realm.'

John Kennedy began life as a true 'prince' within our society. As the son of millionaire industrialist Joseph P. Kennedy, he attended the finest schools, wore the proper clothes, made the best of impressions. In true storybook fashion, during World War II, young John Kennedy set out with sword in hand to save the damsel in distress (freedom) from the monstrous, fire-breathing dragon (Japan). His exploits as a P.T. boat commander in the South Pacific have been immortalized in the film, "P.T. 109."

Kennedy brought a certain style to the presidency. With his charming wife, Jacqueline, to be his Guinevere, we did not feel that the many celebrity-laden dinner parties held at the White House were excesses, but, rather, events that our 'king and queen' graciously allowed us to attend vicariously by means of newspaper and television.

These are the memories that most who lived during Kennedy's time hold most precious about the man and his life. Sadly, history has shown us that our beloved 'king' had not reached a state of perfection. In all honesty, it must be Kennedy, not his successor, Lyndon Johnson, who should take the biggest portion of the blame for America's military involvement in Viet Nam and Southeast Asia. As an administrator, most government experts generally rate Kennedy as "fair." As far as we know, Kennedy had no 'Mordred,’ but his extra-marital affairs have become well known to all.

But still, John Fitzgerald Kennedy is a man we remember. We remember him for his ideas and his dreams, and his ability to excite us with those dreams. It is said that our first president, George Washington, was urged to become king but refused a crown. John Kennedy wore the crown well.