Day Three Hundred Twenty Six 2013

The courage of life is often a less dramatic spectacle than the courage of a final moment; but it is no less a magnificent mixture of triumph and tragedy.
~John F. Kennedy

A dreary day of sad remembrance on the 50th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. If you happened to be alive on that day back in 1963 and were over the age of five, you probably remember exactly where you were and what you were doing when you heard the news of his death. My memory is much the same as most school kids back then. I was 10 years old, sitting with my classmates at Capshaw Elementary School, working on our language assignment in Mrs. Bilbrey’s 5th grade classroom. The principal came on the intercom and announced that the president had been shot and had died. I don’t remember his exact words. I do remember feeling shocked and scared and watching my teacher’s face fill with sorrow. She took off her glasses and put a hand over her face. We didn’t get out of school early. I remember recess later and sitting on the jungle gym with other classmates and talking about what had happened. I have no idea what we said. Life moves on pretty quickly when you’re ten. We watched his funeral on TV. Felt so sad for his pretty wife and two little children. One thousand days in office. Did he make a positive difference while he was president? Yes. Was America better off after he died? Probably not.