November 22, 1963, the day of President John F. Kennedy’s assassination, not only lives in history, but for those of us old enough to remember it, it is one we will never forget.

I was six-years-old then, sitting on the floor in a circle of my peers, in elementary school, when the announcement came over the PA system saying the President Kennedy had been killed in Dallas. Silence followed this announcement, but I remember my teacher started sniffling, and I knew she was crying. Everyone around me was quiet. I don’t think any of us knew what to do or say. It was a moment like no other.

I immediately thought of Mrs. Kennedy and Caroline and John. Caroline kennedy and I are about the same age. Next I thought about how sad my mom and dad would be. They both supported President Kennedy, contributed to his campaign, and voted for him, I knew. Next, I could hear his voice in my mind, as I had listened to many of his speeches.

I also thought about what it would be like if my mom or dad were suddenly killed and taken away from me. Not the first time I’d thought about this. My parents were both older, and I think I always knew, subconsciously, I might not have them with me as long as my peers with younger parents likely would. I just wanted to go home. But that was not immediately possible. My mom and dad were sixty miles away from where I was, and wouldn’t be coming to get me until after their work-days ended, on that Friday.

I am totally blind as a result of too much oxygen in the incubator after being born prematurely. When it came time for me to start school, my parents decided not to educate me at our state’s residential school for the blind. They wanted me to be mainstreamed, but the only program for that available in the state, at that time, was in a school district 60 miles away. So, I stayed with a family in that district, during the school week, and went home every weekend. I did that for one and a half school years, until my parents were able to move to that community.

The people I lived with were wonderful to me, but it was hard. I was always homesick and missed my parents terribly, and often found it extremely difficult to concentrate on learning because all I wanted was to be home with Mom and Dad. In 1963, it wasn’t as if I could easily pull out my cell phone and call home. At that time, direct dial was just starting to be possible, and even at that, long distance calling was expensive. I thought about going to the office and asking to be able to call Mom, at work, collect, but then dismissed the idea, and decided to endure the next few hours like I thought a grownup would. I managed to do that.

I learned later, that Mom had her own emotional experience at work. At the time, she worked for the newspaper in our hometown. She said that when the news about President Kennedy came across the teletype, she heard the alarm bell go off, signaling a breaking story, and she said it sounded different to her, and everyone else there commented on it afterword. Just like I was at school, she was shocked and devastated by the news, and she said she immediately thought of me, miles away at school, and thought about calling to talk with me and reassure me everything would be all right. She decided, instead, to call Dad, and they left, immediately to come for me.

I was so glad and relieved to see them both. On the drive home, we listened to the coverage on the car radio, and, for most of the weekend, watched the TV coverage. No attempt was made to keep the tragedy from me, and we talked some about it. Nowadays, there’s all kinds of professional advice for helping children deal with traumatic situations such as this, but then there wasn’t. My parents just did the common sense thing–answered my questions, and talked about what had happened if I wanted to discuss it–but they didn’t force anything on me, nor try to pretend it didn’t happen or that it wasn’t terrible. And it was like that through the weekend and the funeral on Monday.

Ever since the events of that terrible day, I have had an interest in the Kennedy family, especially Robert F. Kennedy’s presidential campaign and his tragic assassination in 1968. I’ve always had a love for reading, and favor biography, United States history, and most anything written about WWII and various historical topics such as historical figures, slavery, the civil rights movement and diversity in society. Reading is a passion for me, and now that I’m retired, I spend the majority of my time reading–even more so with the advent of digital books. I’m certain, by the end of the year, I will of read over 200 books this year, and that is not counting rereads of some of my favorite books.

This weekend, i will continue to reread “The Death of a President: November 1963” by William Manchester. I have read this book a few times, and each time I do so. I discover details I’ve overlooked before. If you’re looking to read a comprehensive, nearly minute-by-minute account of these events and that of subsequent days. I highly recommend this book.