Witness to History

Let me tell you about one fateful day in November of 1963. I was about 10 years old and was waiting for the President of the United States of America to land at the Dallas airport, I was near the fence and people were pushing forward and my father created a safe space for me so I would not get smashed into the fence. When the plane landed it was very loud and there was some screeching, my father said it was from the brakes on the plane bringing the plane to a stop. Then these men pushed some big stairs to the plane, and the door opened, and some men dressed in black suits stepped out of the plane and were talking into their hands and looking around. They walked down the stairs and were always looking around. Then suddenly there were screams from people all around us. And I looked up and there was Mrs. Kennedy, and wow, she was so beautiful. She looked good in pink, and then the president appeared behind her, he looked so handsome. I know that may sound gross for a 10-year-old to say that a man is handsome, but oh my he was so handsome, and he looked very young. They both waved from the top of the stairs and then started down the stairs, and then they started walking towards the fence which made the men in the dark suits run around looking very silly... I started laughing and pointed this out to my father and he explained that those men are Secret Service and their job is to protect to President and the first lady. I asked who is the first lady? He explained it was the president's wife. They walked along the fence, and they both touched my hand, I was so happy I started crying, my dad, just stood there looking so proud that I got to see them, and they both touched my hand. I was kind of in shock, never had someone that famous or popular touch me, or be near me. I was walking on clouds. I don't think my feet touched the ground for the rest of the day.

My dad and I decided as treat to go get some ice cream, while driving to get ice cream, a news announcement interrupted a song that was playing to announce that the president had been shot, and was on the way to the hospital. I looked at my dad and he looked at me and he looked sad. I asked if that was the same president who touched my hand, he explained that it was. I started crying, he pulled over and hugged me. I asked why would that happen? He did not have an answer, he asked if I still wanted ice cream, and I didn't. So, we drove home in silence, by the time we got home, it was announced that the president had died. I was so sad, didn't know what to say or how to feel. I collected all the newspapers from that day. My dad would bring home magazines to me that had anything to do with the president. I would cut out the pictures of the smiling president with his wife and put them on my walls to remember happier times. I got to stay home from school and watch the funeral on TV. I felt bad for his kids, I looked at my dad, and climbed into his lap and told him I loved him, and I don't know what I would do without him. We just sat there watching. 

In the following days, I would ask my dad all kinds of questions about why he was killed, and who killed him. And then one day I was watching the news and the police were taking the guy who they think killed the president, some where and a man came out of the crowd with a gun and shot the man who killed the president. Now as a 10-year-old child that is a lot to take, in a one-week time period. My dad tried his best to explain to me what happened, but even he had a difficult time answering my questions. At school the teachers tried their best to answer my questions, so that I would understand but they were in the same boat as my dad. As time went on, I did research and read different books, and I even went as far as trying to read the Warren Report, man o man that was very difficult to read, I kept a notebook next to me while I read and wrote the words down that I didn’t understand and later I would look them up in a dictionary to understand what they meant. My father could not understand my fascination with an assassination that took place when I was 10 years old. 

At the age 15 I knew more about President John F Kennedy than most kids my age. My father took me to Washington DC, and we visited the president’s grave, there were a lot of people there, some were even crying. We took the White House tour, which was cool, saw a lot of the sites in Washington DC. Before we left to come home, I wanted to go one last time to see his grave. It was later in the day and the crowds have thinned out, so I was standing there with a few people and don’t know what possessed me to start talking but I did. I remember saying, “I am sorry you had to die, and that your children John and Carolyn had to grow up without a father, that had to really suck. I am sure you saw; a lot of people cried for you and are still crying for you. And I don’t know if you remember but, on that day, that you were shot you and your beautiful wife touched my hand, and I have never forgotten that. You are missed, but I keep remembering you, I even read the Warren report a lot of big words and that book made no sense to me, but maybe I will re-read it later. Thank you for taking the time out touch my hand, I really appreciate that, and rest in peace.” As I turned to walk away, this lady stopped me asked me how old I was, I told her I was 15 and she commented for a 15 year old you are very well spoken and polite, and to read the Warren report must have been a large task. I had explained that I looked up a lot of words to understand them. I excused myself and walked over to my father and the lady said, “you did a great job raising that young lady.” My dad smiled and thanked her, and we left for the airport.

 That day back in November in 1963 was a day that changed my life. Now at the age of 25 I work for the John F Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum, in Boston Massachusetts. I am the youngest historian on President Kennedy and my father was very proud of me when I accepted the position. My father has long passed away, but on my desk is a picture of my father and of President Kennedy.