Yes, I remember where I was



November 22, 1963. I remember where I was.

I was five years old. That afternoon I was playing some game on the floor. My aunt, who took care of me while my mother worked, was ironing. My brother came home from school early and gave us the news.

“President Kennedy has been shot.”

The next few days didn’t make much sense to a five year old. Everyone was sad. All that was on television was news of the funeral. I didn’t understand.

Fifty years later, Americans remain fascinated with the assasination of President Kennedy. Did Oswald act alone? Was LBJ behind it?

I won’t speculate about it here.

John F. Kennedy, in life and death, defined a generation. Had he lived, would he still be so loved and revered? We will never know.

In reality, I have nothing profound to say. No brilliant commentary. Others have written and will continue to write about this event in history.

But on this day, the day on which the world lost not only John F. Kennedy, but Aldous Huxley and C.S. Lewis, I remember.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.