Painting by Yahn Smith
Footnote: Texas Tech had canceled classes until after the Thanksgiving weekend, so I went with Susie to Dallas earlier than we had originally planned. In Dallas, she introduced me to her friend and former Highland Park High School classmate Kirk Wade, then at UT Austin ... and at Kirk's house one afternoon, watching Texas play Texas A&M, I met Henry Wade ... Dallas District Attorney for many, many years and Kirk's uncle (and for those who have missed it previously, the "Wade" in the landmark case Roe v. Wade in 1973). And Uncle Henry, perhaps feeling the effects of a long schmooze with his friend "J.D. Black", let drop to me in conversation that despite wild speculation to the contrary, he and the Dallas Police were convinced that, improbable as it might seem, both Lee Harvey Oswald and Jack Ruby had acted alone and independently of each other. Uncle Henry didn't tell me that our conversation was "off the record" ... it probably didn't occur to him that he needed to ... after all, I was just a college girl friend of his nephew Kirk. Nevertheless, perhaps he should have thought twice ... because I duly reported the remark to the Toreador when I returned, where it appeared in a story a good two or three days before Uncle Henry gave his press conference to make a formal announcement of that determination to the country and the world. Never got credit for the scoop ... but I (and Kirk and Uncle Henry, wherever he may be) know....
)O(
Today the blog begins a new, intermittent series of posts (and we hope comments) on "The Times of Our Lives" ... discussions and memories of the events and experiences which shaped our lives after our graduation from CHS, which along with the seminal personalities and sensibilities we had developed by May 1963, caused us to become the sui generis, yet "connected" individuals we are today.
There are many such events ... the war in Vietnam; all the trauma of 1968 (the Tet offensive, the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, the chaos at the Democratic Convention in Chicago, the violent explosion of the first major rift in American society itself since the Civil War); the manned landing, and Neil Armstrong's first walk on the moon in 1969 (fulfilling John F. Kennedy's "vision") and subsequent space exploration; the first OPEC power play (from which we unfortunately did not learn, and haven't yet); the "Yom Kippur War" (instigated by Arab countries, won by Israel, and certainly a huge influence on the dynamics of the Middle East even today); the first Palestinian intifada (1987, while Yahn and I were just "next door" in Egypt); the first bombing of the World Trade Center in 1993; the rise and entrenchment of extremely partisan and divisive politics, and more.
There are many such events ... the war in Vietnam; all the trauma of 1968 (the Tet offensive, the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, the chaos at the Democratic Convention in Chicago, the violent explosion of the first major rift in American society itself since the Civil War); the manned landing, and Neil Armstrong's first walk on the moon in 1969 (fulfilling John F. Kennedy's "vision") and subsequent space exploration; the first OPEC power play (from which we unfortunately did not learn, and haven't yet); the "Yom Kippur War" (instigated by Arab countries, won by Israel, and certainly a huge influence on the dynamics of the Middle East even today); the first Palestinian intifada (1987, while Yahn and I were just "next door" in Egypt); the first bombing of the World Trade Center in 1993; the rise and entrenchment of extremely partisan and divisive politics, and more.
I had been turning this idea over in my mind, as well as pondering the specific subject for the first post, when just a few days ago, in the newly-inaugurated "Quote of the Day", there was this from John Fitzgerald Kennedy: A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on. I'm not sure if there was some psychic vibe going (which might open up a whole new topic), but I immediately called Nicki and broached the idea, which she received with gratifying enthusiasm. Or else she was too polite to tell me if she did have negative thoughts....
Nevertheless, I think that arguably the most shocking, life-changing and perspective-altering event to collectively befall our generation ... at least in our still formative years and until the terrible day of September 11, 2001 ... was the assassination of John F. Kennedy on November 22, 1963. I have heard our parents and grandparents say many times over the years that they would never ever forget what happened on December 7, 1941 ... where they were, what they were doing, who they were with, how they felt ... when the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor hurtled the U.S. into World War II. But it was not until I was barely 17, not long out of a small high school in a small town, and in my freshman year at Texas Tech, that I had any personal frame of reference for the type of occurrence ... catastrophe ... our elders had faced, leading to the genesis of "The Greatest Generation" as Tom Brokaw has called them.
Although there may be diverse conclusions to be drawn, and many opinions as to the sociological and psychological effects the assassination had on our generation, and on our country as a whole, I am going to avoid speculation and conjecture at this juncture and only share with you what happened to me on that awful day, and in the days immediately following. And I hope others will share memories and thoughts as well.
That beautiful fall at Texas Tech, I counted myself fortunate to be the only freshman who was then allowed to actually work as part of the staff of The Daily Toreador, the Tech student newspaper. In accordance with my avocation and following my declared major in journalism, I had deliberately gotten both my freshman English requirements out of the way that summer, a prerequisite, and I had then been given a waiver to join Toreador while simultaneously taking the first required journalism course. I recall I loved working with the upperclassmen who ran the paper, and was absolutely delighted to be assigned to cover even quotidian things such as student government meetings, dorm councils, Panhellenic activities, etc.
On the Friday before the Thanksgiving holidays, during the noon hour (CST), my roommate Susie Willingham and I were just coming out of the cafeteria at Knapp Hall when we saw a large group gathered around the television in the reception room. Curious, we wandered in, just in time to hear the announcer (I think it was either Walter Cronkite or Dan Rather, but I am not sure) intone: "... reports that a shot has been fired at the Presidential motorcade in downtown Dallas. No word yet as to the condition of the President and Mrs. Kennedy, whose car sped from the scene...."
Absolute and utter shock!!!! That someone could actually shoot at the President of the United States!!! It took just a minute, and then my journalistic instincts kicked in ... and I began running as fast as I could, Susie unthinkingly running behind me, toward the offices of the Toreador.
I remember we barreled through the central Administration Building, almost knocking two professors off their feet in our mad scramble. As one of them began to remonstrate, I gabbled out "Haven't you heard!!!! Someone shot at the President!!" before taking flight again and leaving them standing there open-mouthed. When we arrived at the Toreador office, Susie shrugged helplessly and opted to return to the dorm, since she didn't work on the paper. And then I walked into the outer office and saw ... about six people, including Artie Shaw, the Sports Editor ... and heard the bells and clatter of the UPI and AP wire services in the background. I looked at Artie, and at my five fellow lower-tier staffers (a/k/a grunts and/or go-fers) and asked in a rush, "Have you heard? What's happening on the wires? Where is everyone? What are we going to do???"
I remembered vaguely as I stood there that there was an out-of-town football game between the Tech Red Raiders and the UT Longhorns the next day ... BIG game!!! ... but it was Friday, and the game was Saturday ... and where was everyone??? Artie quieted me, and the others, and explained that all the masthead (core) staff of the Toreador had already left for pre-game partying in Austin, having "put to bed" (sent to to be published) the last paper of the week the preceding night. Artie was the exception, and he had not planned to leave Lubbock until early Saturday morning.
As we absorbed this, we heard the AP and UPI bells start again ... ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.... In those days, whenever an important story came across the wire services, it was preceded by a series of bells, the number of bells denoting the importance of the story. I'd first learned about this when I worked at The Childress Index during the summer of 1962 ... the summer Marilyn Monroe died, and Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle were dueling it out in the baseball stats ... and I had of course become reaccustomed to it on Toreador. But I had never heard a story come across the wire with more than three bells max ... until I heard those bells, so insistent, so loud ... and I began mentally, silently counting, as I'm sure everyone in the room was doing: "One, two, three, four, five, six...." Oh my God! Six bells!!!!" We all ran to gather around the wire and saw as the teletype clanked out, in its own dull yet urgent signature language, with typical spare phraseology: "Confirmed...President Kennedy shot...Taken to Parkland Hospital in Dallas....Condition unknown." Then the wire fell silent ... the passage of time seemed huge (though it was only seconds) before any of us could speak. And then there was a babble of "Oh my god! He was hit!!!" "He'll be all right, they got him to the hospital...." "What in hell...." "How could this happen...."
But no sooner did we begin to find coherent speech and thought than the bells started again ... and we all began our silent count.... ding, ding, ding ... one, two, three ... ten (10!!) bells ... and the chunk-a-chunk staccato of the wire service machines: "Kennedy's injuries reported serious." Then silence, fear, an attempt to comfort and reassure each other.... And we waited ... until: ding, ding, ding ... one two three ... fourteen (14!!!) bells: "Kennedy's condition grave." Stunned silence, and creeping dread. Then: ding, ding, ding ... "One, two three (we were all counting now in low, but audible whispers) ... eighteen ... EIGHTEEN (18!!!) bells." And the teletype: "CBS News reports that a priest has been called to Parkland Hospital ...." And silence ... one of the longest silences I can remember, both actually and metaphorically ... as we looked around at each with horror and shock and dawning grief flashing from face to face. We waited ... and waited ... so loooong.....so looong.... We found ourselves wanting the bells to start again, just to break the tension ... but dreading that they would.
Finally... the bells...ding, ding, ding...TWENTY-TWO (Oh my God! 22 BELLS!!) ... then a profound, resonating silence... and then the short rat-a-tat burst of the teletype, with two terse words: "Kennedy Dead." And silence again ... until some minutes later the machines jarringly and almost insultingly sprang to life, as reporters rushed to file their stories on the incident, and background material ... the bells now back to a reasonable level of three or four ... but I think we were beyond hearing them by then....
Finally Artie, the seasoned reporter, the solid upperclassman in our midst, said: "Well, we're not much of a staff ... but we've got to get an "Extra" out tonight." And somehow, we did ... all of us ripping (from the wire services), and reading, and writing, and proofing ... Artie pulling the issue together, and holding us together. We put the "Extra" to bed around 10:30 or 11:00 that night ... and then, after all the mercifully thought-dulling activity of the afternoon and evening, we left the office to confront the reality of what had happened, and try to put ourselves to bed, in a dark, haunted, sleepless night.
The next few days are still a blur. Watching television with friends at a boyfriend's apartment ... Oswald being transferred from the Dallas jail, being shot LIVE ON TELEVISION by Jack Ruby ... the mind almost refused to comprehend and process ... the absolute cessation of normal activity and commerce, shuttered movie theaters, no televison broadcasts of anything except as they related to John F. Kennedy, and his presidency, the assassination ... that unspeakable, evil word, "assassination", hanging heavy in the air.... And then ... the funeral, the riderless horse, the stricken and stoic Mrs. Kennedy ... and just when we knew it could not be worse, or more tragically beautiful, that our hearts could not break more than they already had ... John-John saluted his father's casket....
No matter your politics ... if any of us really had many political beliefs of our own that were not just generally reflections of our parents' thinking (for the record, my family was Republican then and didn't think very much of JFK ... except for some unexplained maverick liberal tendencies on my grandmother's part) ... I think it is likely that the assassination affected all of us deeply, in our core beings, our sense of security and who we were as a nation... and that day remains burned in our memories these long years later.
We would be honored to hear your recollections of that time.
Footnote: Texas Tech had canceled classes until after the Thanksgiving weekend, so I went with Susie to Dallas earlier than we had originally planned. In Dallas, she introduced me to her friend and former Highland Park High School classmate Kirk Wade, then at UT Austin ... and at Kirk's house one afternoon, watching Texas play Texas A&M, I met Henry Wade ... Dallas District Attorney for many, many years and Kirk's uncle (and for those who have missed it previously, the "Wade" in the landmark case Roe v. Wade in 1973). And Uncle Henry, perhaps feeling the effects of a long schmooze with his friend "J.D. Black", let drop to me in conversation that despite wild speculation to the contrary, he and the Dallas Police were convinced that, improbable as it might seem, both Lee Harvey Oswald and Jack Ruby had acted alone and independently of each other. Uncle Henry didn't tell me that our conversation was "off the record" ... it probably didn't occur to him that he needed to ... after all, I was just a college girl friend of his nephew Kirk. Nevertheless, perhaps he should have thought twice ... because I duly reported the remark to the Toreador when I returned, where it appeared in a story a good two or three days before Uncle Henry gave his press conference to make a formal announcement of that determination to the country and the world. Never got credit for the scoop ... but I (and Kirk and Uncle Henry, wherever he may be) know....
)O(
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14 comments:
My day started much like Jennifer's day. I, too, was a freshman at Texas Tech. My dorm was Wall or at that time No. 6 as we were the first to live in the new dorm which was without a name for a short time. It was lunch time and I left my room to go downstairs to meet Jim. On the way I had to pass through the second floor televison area. It was very common to find the room filled with dorm residents and their guests watching tv. The soap "As the World Turns was very popular at that time of day. However on this particular day I was taken back to find the room extra full with guys and girls. The room was very quiet and it took me a second to realize that everyone was watching Walter Cronkite and to realize things were not "right". I stood silently listening with disbelief and shock. Ater a few minutes I left to go to Jim and then quite frankly the rest of that day and the next few days are lost to my memory.
We are all familiar with the quote by Cesare Pavese, "We do not remember days: We remember moments" and that is true for me especially in this case. I remember watching the events unfold on tv as Jennifer has mentioned; I remember that my dad who was not a Kennedy fan was unnaturally quiet and sad at the events. I remember having bought a new black dress for an event at Tech that coming weekend and how many years later, I gave away the dress--tags still attached and never worn by me. I remember that even though I was so sad, shocked and worried, I was certain that everthing would be okay. I also remember feeling no joy or pleasure that classes at Tech were cancelled and that we would start our holiday early, but I remember feeling very relieved to be home with my family.
Jennifer in telling her story of that day, did a wonderful job of reawakening the intensity of that time as we waited moment by moment to hear the next words which at that time in Wall Hall at Tech were like nails being driven into our souls, but we were totally unable to turn away from the screen--not then and not days later. In my minds eye, I can imagine Jennifer running across campus, listening to the bells, and being driven by her journalistic instincts, putting aside for the moment her own feelings to get the story out. What a blessing it must have been to be able to have had such a sense of purpose, a sense of getting the job done, and now, looking back to have such a feeling of being even a small part of history while most of us stood silently by and watched the story unfold.
Jennifer, as a footnote, I would like to add that this afternoon I asked my 12 year old grandson to read your account of that day. To my surprise he agreed and when he had finished, I asked him what he thought. He has never been a person of many words, so when he said, "It's pretty good." I was thrilled. His tone of voice conveyed that pretty good was very good and that he was intrigued by the story. Next he said, "I don't know much about it. I wasn't born yet." But I know that he won't forget your story and that there is a foundation for further stories and you put a human touch on it for him. Someday,maybe he will recount what he read in some history class.
Oh Nicki! Your comment ... particularly your "footnote" ... brought tears to my eyes and filled my heart. He won't know what it's for, but please give your grandson a hug for me ... he and young men and women like him are SO part of our hope for the future. And while you are at it, ask Jim (I'm sure you won't have to twist his arm) to give you a hug for me. You have moved me more than I can tell you.
I'd comment at more length, but it's hard to type when there's something in your eyes....
)O(
Unlike the blond brainiac that I married (for the uninformed, I'm Mr. Jennifer), on November 22, 1963 I was a high school senior. I've previously mentioned that in those long ago, pre-hippie days, I fancied myself a "serious" beatnik/rebel/artist... oh yes, and DEEP. I had been asked to paint a mural in Bossier High School on an available wall. Of course I proceeded to paint an evolutionary version of the seven days of creation with little one-celled organisms, dinosaurs, Neanderthals, and that sort of thing. I had been inspired when I did an interview of Dr. Scopes of the "Scopes Monkey Trials" who was living in nearby Shreveport. Even after the Scopes Trial, evolution still could not be taught in Louisiana schools in those days. The school didn't understand the mural or its theme. Hey, they thought it was a bible story. They didn't get it. They liked it. I was SOOO proud....
That Friday I was working on the mural when I realized I had left several important brushes at home that morning. After considerable persuasion, my mother agreed to bring the needed brushes up to the school. When she arrived she asked me if I had heard the news. Someone had shot Kennedy.
I looked her squarely in the eye and with my best "sullen teenager" swagger proclaimed, "He'll get over it." I turned and went back into the school not understanding anything beyond my own, very limited, little world. (Nicki, you make me feel so shallow... even today and even if I am, I hope, a better person now.)
Later that day, I slowly learned more and the enormity of what had happened began to sink in. I also will never forget John-John's little salute. Even though I wasn't a big Kennedy fan and particularly not a fan of Jackie, her bravery moved me.
One reason I'm so willing to tell this rather embarrassing tale of juvenile self involvement is that on September 11, 2001 I was teaching at the Art Institute of Houston. It was horrible, and I saw dozens of "little me"s wandering around in their own closed off, little worlds. With the anger of the self righteous, I kept asking, "Don't you understand what has happened?"
The answer from many of my students was a resounding "NO". What was worse, with a look that I definitely recognized, they asked back "How does this affect me?"
While I sincerely believe that some things about us wonderful human beings never change, however, I learned. They will learn. If I could learn, we all can learn and there is still an ember of hope in this often dark world. Some days, we all need a little of that.
Yahn, my favorite saying is this..."Where there is life, there is hope." As I live my life eternal, I find myself saying it more and more, especially as I get older...and wiser.
When I was growing up, it seemed that almost every time the 7th of December would roll around, my dad would refer to it as “a day that will live in infamy.” He was, of course, quoting his beloved Franklin D. Roosevelt. As I would learn later on when I studied history, these weren’t FDR’s exact words. Roosevelt actually said, “. . . a date which will live in infamy”; but, the exact wording is not important in light of the fact that my dad always remembered. If I had asked, I’m sure he could have told me exactly where he was and what he was doing when he heard Roosevelt utter those words that burned themselves into his memory. I never asked him, but I wish I had.
Being only 4 years old on what was always referred to as “Pearl Harbor Day,” I don’t recall where I was or what I was doing at the time FDR spoke his memorable words; but I do recall the words of President John F. Kennedy (for whom I cast my first legal vote at the age of 21) which were still ringing in my ears when I embarked on my first day of Army active duty on November 10, 1963: “And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.” That I entered the Regular Army on the historical birthday of the U.S. Marine Corps was also not lost on such a romantic as I was then. Sadly, my romanticism suffered a severe wound a scant 12 days after I began my military service; and I do remember vividly where I was and what I was doing at the time.
I was a student in the Field Artillery Officers Basic Course at Fort Sill, and a group of us were shooting an après-lunch game of pool in the recreation room of the building where we were awaiting bus transportation to a Forward Observer Training Session out on the Fort Sill Artillery Range. Some time after 12:30 p.m., CST, on Friday, November 22, 1963, a fellow student came into the rec room and announced, “President Kennedy’s been shot!” Silence engulfed the entire room for what seemed like a terrifically long time until it was finally broken by someone who yelled at the guy who had made that unbelievable announcement: “Bulls**t! Knock it off, man! That’s not funny!”
But it was true, as we found out from others as we filed out of the building to board the buses to the field. We sat on the buses for a long time without moving until notification came down that all training had been suspended until the following Monday due to the President’s assassination. I went home and brooded over the loss of one of my heroes, and I grieved that our country had come to such a pass that its highest leader could be murdered while driving down a street in Dallas, Texas. This became, for me, another “date which will live in infamy.”
BFF: Your latest post is, as always, brilliant. Maybe your best, if that’s possible, although I’m partial to the fictional tales you spin. My only concern for your writing is that some may begin to take you for granted and never appreciate your talent and passion. The only way you’re going to get outside this venue is if someone googles something contained therein and they pull up your post. I hope it does happen so your audience will be wider. Are you never going to entertain the public?
Dear BFF LK: Oh my. I saw your lovely comment just before I headed for bed last night ... and I've got to tell you ... you are the third person who made me cry (in a good way) last night. Yahn said I had probably exceeded the annual precipitation averages for the desert where we live! I was humbled and so touched by what you had to say ... literally (and oddly for me) rendered speechless, and once again unable to type (even if I had been able to "speak") because I couldn't see the screen ... "things" in the eyes again....
This morning, more or less clear-eyed again, I just have to add that I think IMHO that the blog has become a veritable treasure trove of good writing and well-expressed thoughts and memories. I'm not sure I have enough superlatives to say how much I have appreciated and enjoyed ALL of the things that have been written here, and how I eagerly anticipate what will be written in posts and comments to come.
Nicki's writing never fails to move me, and/or to make salient observations and points. The wonderfully funny stories told by Mike are absolutely outstanding ... certainly as good if not better than what passes for "comedy" in some places these days. (Someone told me recently that Mike is "a force of nature" and I can only add that that is a good description.) The writing and perspectives from Yahn and our blog friend and former teacher Darryl add immeasurably to the quality and the content of this space. The sports posts from Joe Don and Jim add very welcome dimensions and outlooks. Comments from Sheila and Clara and you, dear LK, really lift the blog into a special realm, and we are so looking forward to reading the things you all have to say in the future. Just hearing from long-lost classmates and friends like Carolyn Loter, Linda Key, Jack Petty and others SO fulfills Nicki's vision in creating the blog in the first place. I am ... I think all who read are ... blessed to benefit from such great participation, talent and "bon mots" (literally, good words) from everyone.
I haven't asked her, but I believe that Nicki may share my feeling that in only a few short months, the blog has become so much more than we could have imagined several months ago. That growth and the exceptional content is due to ALL our contributors, all our individual "voices", the "connections" which have been established and continue to grow. As Mike and I noted in a recent exchange, one thought or memory leads to another, and another, and another ... as we encourage and "feed" each other....
If I have touched or entertained some of you with things I have written, then I have attained what I believe is the goal of most writers ... connection ... with others, with thoughts, with ideas. I am oh so grateful for that gift ... and have come to believe that the blog itself may truly be the gift that actually does keep on giving. What we all are doing here is SO special ....
)O(
Jennifer,
I promise that I will never take your talent or your writing for granted. I see it as a gift that you are sharing with all of us and I am really grateful to you!
Additionally, you often give my vocabulary a boost. My grandson asked what "sui generis" meant. Thank goodness I had already googled it so I could tell him. LOL
Jennifer,
I think our comments crossed paths as I had commented before I read your latest one. Yes, the blog has developed into much more than I ever imagined it would. I was telling my grandson's dad about the blog last night and I almost became emotional talking about it. I never thought we would actually contact almost every single person in our class!
I too love and enjoy everything that is said by everyone. I just want to hear more.
I have to correct an oversight in my latest comment to this post, about all those who have so wonderfully contributed to the blog and the marvel it has become. I plead early morning "fog" and not enough coffee (yet) when I failed to mention Jim Spradley, Sr., one of "The Greatest Generation" who graces the blog from time to time with his memories and thoughts. Over the past several years, Jim Sr. has become a dear friend ... and I am delighted when he occasionally chooses to share his life experiences and wisdom with us. I hope I've not overlooked anyone else ... but if I did, please know it was inadvertent and that you are so very appreciated as well.
And even if some of our readers hesitate to "appear" here ... I cannot thank you enough either, for reading, or encouragement, for suggesting things to me ... and for some of the wonderful things you have said.
Nicki, as I mentioned, the things you write never fail to move me ... and I thought we would likely be in agreement over the blossoming of the blog (maybe a little purple on the prose there). I am so glad your grandson asked you about "sui generis" ... how fabulous is that!!! When I first heard the phrase, I loved it and immediately adopted it into my polyglot vocabulary ... and I still love to use it whenever I get the chance. Just think ... one day (maybe soon?) your grandson will think of and "adopt" it as well, and perhaps use it in a school paper or report, or even while speaking ... which will certainly impress his teachers and maybe even his friends (even if they might tease him about it)... and one day, when it has become an old familiar friend, he will use it with another young person who will ask ... gettin' misty here in the desert again ....
)O(
First of all, I would like to compliment Yahn on his beautiful painting...Who is that Adonis with the moon and stars in his hair??? I think I am in love!
Second...November 22, 1963 was going to be a very busy day for me. Not only was it my 19th birthday, but I had just been asked to be an attendant for a banquet that evening for the President. The Young Democrats at UT had just learned that JFK was going to be in Austin for dinner that evening and we were in charge of the function. As you can imagine, I was on Cloud Nine! My President was coming to Austin! It was noon, I had just come home for lunch and was feverisly looking for a formal gown to wear(required) for the evening...The girls and I were listening to that amazing new group, The Beatles, when they were interrupted with the news cast that the president had been shot. My first thought was "Why would the president shoot himself in the foot?? DUH!"...that was how my brain was working at the time. I thought the people at the station were crazy. I refused to believe them. Afterall, Kennedy was headed to Austin and I was going to get to see him and live an evening that I would remember forever! My friend, Gail, sat me down on the edge of the bed and said, "Sheila, This is serious! Your banquet is probably going to be cancelled. Kennedy will probably be dead before the evening is over." She was a Political Science major and possessed much wisdom. Disbelieving, I continued to search for the perfect dress to wear that evening. Shortly afterwards, I remember someone saying, President Kennedy is dead. I just stood there, totally numb and I still didn't believe them.
I remember that there were about 3 girls who led me down to the television room in our boarding house. Tears of disbelief in our eyes, we watched the news for what seemed to be an eternity, hoping that it wasn't true and that Kennedy would come back to life.
I remember how I hated LBJ for being sworn into office...and I know that is what they do, but it just didn't seem right!
I remember going to dinner at the Rome Inn Pizza Parlor with some friends...I could barely talk. I felt like a balloon that had released all of it's air, spewing around the room like a mad hornet, only to end up lying lifeless on the floor. From that point on, my life is in the fog and I do not remember much else.
To all the writers of the blog, I thank you - not just for your memories of yester-year but for your comments stated so freely about eachothers stories. I have discovered new things about about my classmates, where they are, who they married, who is still alive and who has passed, etc. To Jenn, because she has stayed my friend through out these many years, I am extremely prejudiced towards all of her stories. I remind you, Jenn, you promiced a book and you did this all the way back when we were in school. From Mike, my childhood neighbor, I get many laughs from his stories. I feel as though we're having a conversation.
So I ask all of you to continue putting your memories down for the rest of us. For me, some of them are awfully close to home as I was a member of the "9" for three years before I married the first time. By sharing them, you reawaken my own memories. For this I thank you.
Lynn Purcell Durham
Lynn, welcome back to the blog! I know you've been reading us while you are recuperating from your last stroke, but it is wonderful to see your name ... and your comments ... here again.
I was delighted recently when you told me that you are progressing faster than you or your doctors anticipated. This is such good news for so many of us who have been thinking of you and wishing you well throughout your ordeal. And particularly for me, dear long-term BFF.
We hope you'll continue to add your "voice" and observations here as well. Thanks for taking time to comment.
)O(
Sheila, I want to tell you how much we appreciate your comment. Your recollections of that day, and those of Nicki and Yahn and Darryl, help make a mosaic of memories of, as Darryl said, "another 'date which will live in infamy'." We thank all of you so much for sharing your stories, and hope there may be more added.
)O(
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