I have a clear memory of sitting on the floor by myself and watching television as Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald. This morning, I learned from the internet that it was a Sunday, November 24, 1963, two days after President Kennedy’s assassination. It was 11:21 AM in Dallas, 12:21 PM in Virginia Beach. I was three months from being ten-years-old. We would have just gotten home from church. I probably had had enough time to get out of the sport coat, shirt, and tie that was customary in those days. I know my grandparents’ house had a JFK picture, as did, I think, all my New Hampshire relatives’ homes did. I wonder how Kennedy’s assassinations, and those of King and Kennedy when I was 14, still shape some of my emotional responses.
Read more