It’s been a week of Kennedy things. The airwaves are full just like they were fifty years ago. Every few days a new film or photograph is discovered. New interviews are read. I admit that I’ve been watching them all as best I can. One of my guiltiest secrets is that I didn’t vote for him. I came from a staunch Republican family and didn’t think when I voted. JFK’s idealism converted me to a Democrat.
My ex-husband and I got out of the Army, and combining a little cash from his dad and money from our two jobs, he began school at Art Center. On November 22, 1963, I was at work for the Federal Reserve Bank downtown LA. I was just coming out of the lunch line with a half avocado filled with French dressing in my hand when someone told me that Kennedy had been shot. Frankly, I didn’t believe them.
When I got home, I found our small black and white television filled with the grainy, gruesome history. I rarely left it in the next few days. This week I have been reliving those memories that now include interviews with the Secret Service man who jumped on the back of the Lincoln. There have also been interviews with the young pallbearers who carried that heavy load, and the one deleted frame on the Zapruder film for the first time.
He died on Friday. The beat of the drums filled our hearts for the rest of that weekend and beyond.
Where were you when Kennedy was shot?
Life is Really in the Footnotes: