Today is the anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, the first president that I was aware of in my then-young life. Oh, I knew about Ike Eisenhower, but Kennedy, I was AWARE of him.
My mother and father were both volunteers on Jack Kennedy’s campaign. Those were amazing times. They threw a party on Inauguration Day and the house was filled with people I had never met before.
They spent more money for that party than I ever thought possible at the time, and the attendees, I remember, were very, very happy.
I often compare that evening to Election Eve 2008 when I partied with a big roomful of Democrats as we witnessed on a big HDTV screen Barack Obama’s historic win over John McCain.
But November 22nd 1961 was a very somber time at my home. That entire weekend had the television on continuously as we watched the unfolding of events, including a moment on live TV when we saw Jack Ruby fill Lee Harvey Oswald full of .22 caliber lead. And Blackjack, the horse that was lead down Pennsylvania Avenue with a pair of boots reversed in the stirrups. And little John John with his poignant salute with that small, small hand of his.
Today, on the 48th anniversary of his death, Jack Kennedy is being remembered from coast to coast. Remembered on Facebook. Remembered at his former residence.
Remembered by me, wondering what life would have been like had the bullets missed their mark.
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