|President John F. Kennedy|
I was 15 years old. I looked around at my classmates, and they were doing the same, trying to comprehend what we'd just heard. Some of the girls began sobbing. Mrs. Taylor was wiping tears from her eyes. I don't recall any of the boys shedding tears, myself included, because boys weren't supposed to cry in public.
The next few days were spent in front of the television, watching as Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested and then killed by Jack Ruby. And then the funeral in Washington as thousands lined the streets to show final respects as the president's casket was carried on a horse-drawn caisson to Arlington National Cemetery.
I've watched parts of some of the television programs this week marking the 50th anniversary of his death. For the most part, I find them too painful and sad.
Even after all these years, it's still difficult to comprehend what happened on that Friday afternoon -- and why.
Until the next time...