November 22, 1963

It was 45 years ago tomorrow that the darkest day of my young life occurred. You see, I was in 3rd grade at Webster Elementary, Mrs. Thacker was my teacher. After our morning recess, Mrs. Thaacker told us all that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas, Texas. Not long after that, Mr. Johnson, our principal made a school wide announcement over the PA system. He told us that President Kennedy had died and that all students were going to be sent home from school. (We were out of school until after the funeral.) For the next few days, we (my sisters and I) were glued to our black and white TV watching the events of Kennedy's death and funeral unfold.

November 22, also marks my cousin, Scott Barnes', birthday. It was family tradition to meet for a celebration for all the birthdays back then -- cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents, etc. -- so we met at the Barnes home that evening. I remember that the grown-up discussion was all about the sad events of the day. I remember feeling very anxious about the whole thing. I was even more upset because my grandparents -- Fern and Stewart --- were in Pittsburg, PA, at that time visiting other cousins. I remember wondering if they would make it home safely.

I really liked President Kennedy then -- and now, I appreciate his presidential legacy. The Kennedys have always been so facinating to me -- they are just a very intriguing family. The first time I visited President Kennedy's grave in Arlington was a very reverent experience. The eternal flame placed on his grave is marked by an inscription of his inagural address.