Where were you?

It was on this day in 1963 that John Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas. I remember the day very well. It was a Friday afternoon in Mr. Hobart's third grade class. Closing up a social studies unit on clothing, he had allowed the girls to bring their Barbie dolls to school for a fashion show. About 40 minutes before school was dismissed, one of the teachers called Mr. Hobart into the hallway. He came back in and leaned over to pick up something off the floor. I remember that his face turned very red. The principal came on the intercom to make the announcement. Kids were upset. Teachers were trying to keep it together. I remember Arthur Reno coming to the bus wiping tears from his eyes.

Television was nothing but news for the entire weekend. We watched the plane land in Washington with the President's body. We watched the flag draped casket in the Rotunda. We missed seeing the moment when Oswald was shot because it happened while we were at church. Monday was declared a national day of mourning. In a surprising move, considering how isolated the church of Christ can be when it comes to other than congregational issues, the church announced there would be a memorial service. In a really surprising move, considering how much my parents did not like Kennedy, our family attended.

TV went back to normal the on Tuesday. Thursday was Thanksgiving. We soon learned about a country in Southeast Asia called Viet Nam. Or, at least the kids in Mr. Hobart's class. As we grew up through those years, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were killed. Some of my classmates lost brothers in Viet Nam. We would battle hair and dress codes. Some would battle drug addiction. There was the Summer of Love, Woodstock, and, well......watching the Monkees on Monday night. The pill, going off to New York for an abortion, hitching around the country. Things were different for Mr. Hobart's class and the rest of our generation.