Saturday, November 22, 2008
45 Years
My first memory, the first memory I can match to a specific date, goes back forty-five years, to me and my Mom urgently praying for the President of the United States. I was two going on three and already a palpable cataclysm was at hand.
Forty-five years ago today. On a human level, I wish Jackie and Jack could have kept the brief happiness evidenced in the above screen capture (KTVT), November 22, 1963, from live footage taped at the Texas Hotel in Fort Worth, not long before the short flight to Dallas.
In front of the Texas Hotel, Fort Worth. Photograph here and below by Cecil Stoughton, White House, in the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, Boston. Now in the public domain.
JFK among the people, Fort Worth, Texas, November 22, 1963. The immediate JFK entourage flew via Air Force One from Amon Carter Field, Fort Worth, to Love Field in Dallas, and there began the final motorcade of Kennedy's presidency. Still tragic all these years later, and with most of the big players of that day now gone.
Today's Rune: Strength.
Labels:
1981,
Arcs and Artists,
Fort Worth,
Writing Prompts
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5 comments:
My memories of that event are largely from reading the book that came out about it and his funeral. What I remember most are the photos of the children, and how sad it was.
Just the other day, my wife mentioned the JFK memorabilia we have. She said that in five more years we should sell it on E-Bay. I'm sure some collector would love to have it.
There are stories of me being with the family, watching it all on TV, playing with a drum as it all unfolded, but I can't recall those moments even though there is much I can recall from the early '60s.
I recall all of it and remember the sadness. A great man cut down in the prime of his life, and then MLK and Bobby too. They all spoke of a country needing change.
My prayers and thoughts are with our new President elect, and his family. What a mess he will inherit. Enjoyed the read Erik. MW
JFK's assassination is my first memory of anything beyond the bubble of home and family. I was a couple months shy of turning 4. I remember my mother crying and telling me the President had been killed. I asked who the President was. I didn't get it, but I knew if my folks were that upset, it must be bad.
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