Sioux wrote on Nov 22
nd, 2008 at 3:04pm:
I was 11. In Miss Heflin's 6th grade reading class. The janitor came in, and whispered in her ear to come out into the hallway. Then he evidently told her that Kennedy had been shot. She came back in the room, crying, and told us. Stunned silence. It was almost time for the last period of the day--Mr. Lippert's science class. As a group, we all changed classes together, so we silently went up the stairs to his room. I remember everything as if it just happened yesterday. The room was dark, save for a small desk lamp, lit up, on his desk. We all filed in, silently {I mean, serious. A group of 6th graders who didn't say a word for the rest of the day...}. Mr. Lippert had taken some kid's science project, a ham radio, and had tuned into a broadcast {the one with Walter Cronkite}. I remember putting my head down on the cool desk top and just listening. Not long after, it was reported that Kennedy had died. We just stayed there, listening, until the class, and the school day, was over.
Mom picked me up in our old black '51 Studebaker. I had saved some money to buy a horse statue I'd been eyeing in the local hardware store. But it was dark, cold, rainy.....and I just wasn't in the mood to do anything but go home. Wisely, my Mom said "Well, since you were going to buy the horse anyway, and since it's on the way home, why don't you go ahead and buy it?" So, I did. A black mare that I named Sonora Star. And I still have that horse statue. And every time I hold that horse in my hands, the entire day comes flooding back. So yes, in the long run, I'm glad I bought that black horse on that blackest of days....
The next day was Saturday and I spent most of my time, in the den, watching everything unfold on TV. That went on into Sunday, and then all day Monday {which was a day with schools and businesses closed}. My Dad thought I was obsessed. I guess maybe I was. But I knew, even in my little 11 year old mind, that it was a pivotal day in our nation's history. And the first of several assassinations that would haunt us during that most fascinating, and tumultuous, of decades.
that's a watershed moment..
i wasn't born yet, but my mom remembers ironing and watching as the world turns when the news came on....
in a way, i envy those of you who carry that memory....
it was tragic, but it seemed to bond you to something epic and deep in our national conscousness and to time when everything seemed possible.
i've never had that.
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