I don’t usually blog about current events or the big social issues of our lives, but today is a special day for me and for all of us of a certain age. You young-uns just cannot imagine what a shocking event the assassination of President Kennedy was on November 22, 50 years ago today. It ripped a hole in the world we had grown up in.
Like any boomer, I can recall the events as if it were yesterday. I was living in Mexico City – my step-dad was a foreign service officer – and walking home from my funny little school called Edron Academy, after a day of 8th grade project work. (Why was it called Edron? It was found by Ed Foulkes and Ron I-can’t-recall-his-last-name – Ed-ron.) My walk took me past little stores that sold fruits and vegetables, ice cream and snacks. And in all of them, instead of the usual love songs or mariachi music on the radios there was sad music and a constant voice saying, in Spanish, our condolences to the American people on this very sad day, for this terrible event, etc.
I raced home, opened the door and yelled to my mother: Mom, mom, the President has died, he has been killed. What, no, it can’t be, you must have misheard the Spanish, she said. No, I insisted, all the radios were saying it over and over; call dad at the embassy. She did – and turned as white as a sheet.
We turned on our black and white TV and there was a feed from the US. I felt sick to my stomach, and I wasn’t really sure why. And my mother was very agitated, rare for her, which was disturbing to a 13-year-old boy. Like so many of her generation she found Jack and Jackie a wonderful breath of fresh air for the glamour and sophistication the Kennedys brought to public life. The shooting of Oswald by Jack Ruby shortly after was like a bad dream: how could this happen in America?
My parents tell the story of a fancy dinner party they went to a week later, hosted by a very wealthy and influential Mexican politician. In addition to my parents and some other Embassy officials, the head of a US bank in Mexico was also invited. Just as dinner was being served, the host said how terrible it was that the President was killed, and the banker sneered – heh, no loss there; glad he was shot. My step-father grabbed my mother, stood up, and announced that they could not stay in the face of such dreadful un-American talk, and walked out.
It’s hard for people today to understand how simple and naive those times of the early 60s were (though the early Beach boys songs capture it well); it’s hard to appreciate the chaos that was unleashed from those gun shots until the early 70s. None of us who lived through it can forget it. The veneer of civilization never seemed so thin as it did that day 50 years ago (and during the next 10 years, culminating in Kent State, Nixon’s resignation, and the end of the Vietnam war.) It’s the difference between Sandlot and Dead Poet’s Society vs. Apocalypse Now and Clockwork Orange.
I have two musical traditions in November. Every Thanksgiving, I play Alice’s Restaurant in its entirety, and on the anniversary of Kennedy’s assassination I play Abraham, Martin and John by Dion. I laugh and cry, respectively, each time. Today and next week will be no different, but there will be a special bittersweetness to it this year.
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11 Responses
What a lovely thought – Abraham, Martin, and John. I’ll listen to it now.
So powerful and beyond sad. Same emotions, different location. We are stuck in that moment, on this day. Alice’s Restaurant….
Thank you for the reminder.
Having been a sophomore in high school at the time, and knowing your references – thank you so much for such an articulate and heartfelt reflection.
Thank you for writing that, Grant. I also have a vivid memory of that time when we were sent home from school in the middle of the day (Denver, for me). It shook my image of the world, too. And I share your desire to show respect to the memory of the Kennedy family and all they have done for us.
I was in the audience when you spoke in Concord NH recently. I want to say that I think your views on education, the common core, and testing are insightful and rational. Unfortunately rationality is not always part of every discussion that pertains to “educational reform”. This post brought tears to my eyes. My generation lost its innocence on that day. The “New Frontier” was a belief that we really could create a better world. I was sixteen. I had just gotten my drivers license. I wanted to get away from the repetitive news reports, so I drove around my deserted hometown. Empty was how I felt and actually I remember that did listen to the Beach Boys when I got home. I have had a good life but that emptiness is still there. It’s buried deep inside but never completely lost. As to “Alice’s Restaurant”, I’m waiting for that to come back around on the guitar. Every now and then it does. Thank you for the post.
Thanks for the kind and poignant words, Rick. I agree on all counts. There is an ache there for many of us – the awareness of mortality, the angst of the inexplicable, the role of luck, the loss of innocence, etc. Despite my various wounds, though, I still try to be part of the solutions instead of the problems. That’s the best honor to the day we can make.
JFK was killed 2 days before my 2nd birthday. I don’t remember that day but I know it is a day that forever changed history.
I was in fifth grade, serving as a crossing guard for kids walking home for lunch, just outside of Washington, D.C. I man stopped and said,”You need to go back to school. Now!” I didn’t, because I had an important job to do. My teacher sobbed as she told us back in class.
It was such a time of dreams and understanding that each of us is in charge of creating the world we believe is right for everyone. Thanks for the memories. And the lyrics running through my head now.
What a beautiful tale, so personal with so many identifiable places and events pinned to our cultural and historical heritages. Thank you for this.
Your blog today was poignant and important. As a young Canadian child, I too remember the exact moment and location of this news. More importantly was the reaction of my father, a shock and sadness that was not normally shared. A life changing moment in history that you have thoughtfully expressed.