It was a Friday. I was 16 years old. My Mom was on her way to pick me up at school to take me to get my drivers license. I got out at 1:15 that day. Just as class was letting out, the announcement was made over the P A that Kennedy had been shot. I went to an all-girls Catholic High School. We all burst into tears including the nun who was teaching us. Several girls collapsed. They did not know he was dead yet. When I went out to the car I was crying. My mom had just turned on the radio, and was not quite yet understanding what she was hearing, it was no startling. Then we were both crying. We decided that of course I could not go to get my license that day. There was such a feeling of uncertainty (somewhat akin to 911) The week before had been my birthday. My friend Pat and I shared the same birthday. We were going to go pick her up for the week-end. We called and her mother let her come (my mother would NEVER have let me be anywhere but home at such a solemn time.) We spent the next three days glued to the television. Listening, talking, trying to make sense of it. Crying crying and more crying. None of us slept much. I swear we never left the TV.
On Sunday, as they were bringing Oswald through the basement to transfer him to another jail, Jack Ruby stepped out of the crowd and shot him. A murder witnessed by millions.
Like those of us who lived through 911, those of us who kived through Jack Kennedy's assassination will never forget it
Smooches
Keri
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