Remembering the Assassination of President Kennedy 56 Years Ago
For the older half of the Baby Boomer generation, today is a sad anniversary. 56 years ago today, at 12:30 p.m., President John Fitzgerald Kennedy was fatally shot by Lee Harvey Oswald while riding in a motorcade in Dallas. Kennedy’s assassination marked the loss of innocence for many, including me, and the beginning of a turbulent era of political and social change. I’m sure everyone old enough to remember can share the story of where they were when JFK was killed.
Mine is still one of my most painful and vivid memories. I was a freshman at the University of Michigan, my first time away from home. Having somehow placed out of introductory Spanish classes, I was sitting in a class conducted completely in Spanish and struggling to comprehend my teacher and the Spanish literature we were reading. The goal was to think in Spanish without translating the words in my head, and I was a long way from being able to do this. There was a commotion in the hallway. The instructor left and returned to tell us in broken English that Kennedy had been shot and, “Get out of here.”
I remember wandering the campus, unsure of where to go. Like most students I passed, I was crying. I loved JFK. As he famously said in his inaugural address, “Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans.” He was young, 43 years old when he became president, replacing the 70-year-old Eisenhower. He was vigorous, playing touch football and sailing (we didn’t know then that he had Addison’s disease). His marriage to Jackie appeared to be glamorous and almost royal (we didn’t know about his affairs). He was smart, having been educated at Harvard, and a great communicator. His very young kids were adorable. Most of all, he inspired me to feel patriotic and proud when he said, “Ask not what your country can do for you — ask what you can do for your country.”
Not sure of where to go or what to do, I called home. I was hoping to talk to my mother but my father answered and gave me one of his history lectures and reminded me that it was worse when FDR died. To this day, I don’t understand why he felt that way, as Roosevelt had been elected to a fourth term and was ill. Thankfully, by that evening the university had pulled together a memorial service that provided some comfort.
In the days that followed, I watched with profound sadness as President Johnson was sworn in and President Kennedy was laid to rest. The images of the widow Jackie, surrounded by her children and JFK’s brothers, the salute of three-year-old John Jr., the funeral cortege, the riderless horse, and the eternal flame are as vivid to me today as they were in 1963.
I doubt that many people looked at today’s date, November 22, and thought about President Kennedy. For my children and certainly for my grandchildren, this is ancient history. I doubt it will even rate a mention at any of my grandkid’s schools. But for my generation, this marked the end of a brief era we called Camelot and the beginning of a country torn apart by generational divide over the Vietnam war, the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, racial strife and the presidency of Richard Nixon. Not happy times. Perhaps these things would have happened if Kennedy had lived, but I like to think our country would have taken a different path.
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