Where were you?

This photo is courtesy of the Florida Democrats who tweeted it our earlier.  On another platform, I shared an op-ed from Jack Shafer of Reuters regarding the Kennedy assassination.  Probably the most shocking thing in his piece was that only 20% of Americans remember the day.  In our morning editorial meeting today there were only two who did.  Michael Putney, who was in college, and me.

My memory is this:

I was in the first grade at Kennedy #2, a one-room school house north of our farm.  In the afternoon of November 22, 1963, our teacher answered a telephone that rarely rang.  She turned away from us all and spoke quietly into the receiver.  Shortly after that, we were dismissed for the day.  Our teacher, Miss Uecker, told us that the president had been shot.

I walked home with my cousins who had a longer trek.  I remember that I was wearing red boots and that there were icy patches on the road.  I wasn't particularly sad about the president.  I loved school and was sadder about missing my afternoon geography.

When I got home, I was shocked to see my dad in the house  As a farmer's daughter, I was used to not seeing Dad until supper time, even in the winter, there were plenty of jobs outside to keep him busy.

This particular day was special for my dad.  It was his 30th birthday.  I think there was supposed to be a party but all I remember was my parents hushing us kids and watching TV.  For three days, the TV was on and they watched.  I did too but didn't really understand what I was seeing until the funeral.

Fast forward fifty years.  In the newsroom today, I didn't feel wise or special because I remember that day.  Only sad.  And old.  And grateful for the freedom we all have because despite our differences, this is still a great country.