I remember every moment of that day and was glued to the television for weeks that stretched into months gleaning every detail. I had given birth to my first child just six weeks before. I remember weeping over her crib not knowing where this was all going to lead. The enormity of it was breathtaking. Soon it was Martin Luther King, then Robert F. Kennedy. Those were such difficult years. To think that 75 million voters are perpetuating the hatred of those dark days. I will never understand.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling sick for two days. Those were very tough years starting with Kennedy’s assassination. So many people sacrificed so much to create a more perfect union. And now many of the beneficiaries of those changes have voted for a regime whose goal is to burn it all down. Whatever we do going forward, don’t waste time on horizontal hostility. The blame game is an indulgence the anti-MAGAs cannot indulge in. Trump is Putin’s puppet and the oligarchs are out to steal the show with Project 2025. Unmask them.
dontcha think the problem is how nakedly UNMASKED they are?
for me, the shocking thing is how many people are willing to swallow the whole Populist Pill, which is exemplified by somebody winning an election on that "I am your retribution" bullshit. and it's especially crazy when the only available evidence indicates that the person saying it wouldn't want to be in the same elevator with ANY of them.
“Ask not what your country can do for you, ask rather what you can do for your country”. So shameful that we are soon to have a president and a cabinet full of lackeys that claim all they do is for us, when actually the reverse is true.
How that changed everything…for all of us. The national trauma has echoed through the decades and this once young innocent has been body-slammed over and over since. I hope the most recent blow will not be the final one, for me or the country.
This essay combined with Heather Cox Richardson’s post about November 22 provide quite the picture of that day. I had just turned 10 two days before. I was in my 4th grade classroom when I learned the news. It was a terrible weekend, full of grief. Sadly, we have turned backwards to a hateful time.
I was 2 years old but I still remember my mother (in India) was crying. Tears rolling down her beautiful face. I ripened fast as they say in Bengali. I started writing when I was 2 years old. Yes, I still remember the day because I only saw my mom crying 4 times in my life. It was the first time. Thanks for a powerful post Tom.
I was in English class and we got the announcement and some of us started crying— school was dismissed early and we went home to stay in front of our televisions and see what happened. We were all in shock.
“…October 27, 1962, the full (executive committee) reconvened without the president for an after- dinner meeting in the Cabinet Room. The discussion became heated, as the hawks loudly insisted that they.had been proven right, that the blockade had not succeeded in inducing Khrushchev to pull back. Suddenly Vice President Johnson, who had largely remained silent in our discussions since the beginning, spoke up: ‘All I know is that when you were walking along a Texas road and a rattlesnake rose up ready to strike, there was only one thing to do- take a long stick and knock its head off.’ His uncomfortably clear meaning was chilling.” Counselor by Ted Sorensen, pp. 304
I was in grade school when the announcement came over the PA; The President has been shot.
I was stunned. Those of us who had a parent at home were allowed to walk home. The rest had to stay at school until the busses came at the end of the school day. (We rode Seattle city busses to and from school 20 cents each way.) It was an overcast day with a sprinkle of rain. My mom was typically stoic when my sister and I got home.
Thanks for this post, TC. I was 5, and when it got to be 2:00 on the west coast, I stopped doing whatever I did as a kid not attending school did (I was already reading, and had probably been playing some game involving make believe, stuffed animals, and forts) and I went into the living room to watch The Match Game. My folks were watching the TV, stunned. Two neighbors were there, one other man who worked nights, and a neighbor lady that my Mom had coffee with regularly. My Dad crying, the first and one of about 5 times I saw him in tears, as was my Mom. I wanted to change the channel to watch my show. The adults were upset (to put it mildly) and Mom took me back to the back part of the house with my little record player and a "Quick Draw McGraw" album, where I stayed for several days.
Tom, thank you for writing about that day. It was my first college semester in Cincinnati. The emotions ...well there is just no describing the terrible loss and emptiness...felt numerous times since and I know all your readers have marked the dates and recall them. 22 November 1963 has become one of too many when the truest heart in the IDEA of America has been broken. The feelings about this election for many of us, I sense a true majority, is built of the same kind of grief that begins in the pit if the stomach and rolls over you in a wave you have no power to escape. The only option is endurance and going through with as much integrity as you have built over years knowing how to do what is honest, ethical, and moral. The orcs and their leaders however never give in or give up. So...those of good heart cannot give in or give up, for to do that is to deny who you are as a human.
I was in second grade & went home & cried with my mother & Cronkite. We thought it was about the battle to stop civil rights. Then when MLK & RFK were assassinated it seemed to be true. All the conspiracy theories were unleashed with Mafia, Cuba, Oswald/Russia, etc. Felt like it was whoever snuffed him first. The funeral was so powerfully sad, I related to the children who I saw at our east coast horse shows - John john on his pony Macaroni made it personal as I had just lost my father too.& the black horse with the backward boots in the procession affected me deeply. The fight is formidable but must be fought. A sad day then & now.
I was in 5th grade art class when our principal made the announcement over the PA that the President had been shot. School was dismissed at the second announcement that he had died. Our country is still feeling the after affects of President Kennedy’s assassination these decades later.
I was a freshman in high school, second period, when the principal came to the classroom door and announced that JFK had been shot in Dallas. The whole class was stunned, then ten minutes later came the news that Kennedy had died. The rest of the day and next was a daze, everything just seemed so unreal. Segue to Sunday, I was watching TV when Jack Ruby fired his revolver into Oswald’s stomach and wondered what the Hell was going on? I still cannot process how Ruby knew where to go and smuggle a firearm into Police Headquarters…too convenient. Then Monday watching the funeral and burial at Arlington…unforgettable memories for a 13 year-old.
Classes were emptied, out of foreboding likely, I was walking my little brother home from school across the athletic field lunchboxes clanging. The sky looked very big and we felt very small and alone.
Thanks for your remembrance of that day. I was in Jr. High History class. The previous class was Gym, where we watched a documentary of what to do when an atomic bomb dropped. Feeling somewhat unsettled by that, my classmates and I had just been seated and were wrestling out our text books when the announcement came over the loudspeakers. Our history teacher, an older woman whom we all regarded as something of a fuddy-duddy said "This the first time in your life that you have experienced such a tragedy. There will me more, but you will never forget this day" She wisely led a discussion of how we were feeling, and then came the announcement that school was dismissed. Later that day I want to the supermarket and was shocked when I saw our minister, a rock of a man with a calm and stoic demeanor, crying over the frozen vegetables. It was the first of the many tragedies of the 60's that we endured. On May 3, 1970, I had dinner with Allison Krause, who the next morning was shot by the National Guard. I pray that we are not on the road to another series of self-inflicted national disasters.
I remember every moment of that day and was glued to the television for weeks that stretched into months gleaning every detail. I had given birth to my first child just six weeks before. I remember weeping over her crib not knowing where this was all going to lead. The enormity of it was breathtaking. Soon it was Martin Luther King, then Robert F. Kennedy. Those were such difficult years. To think that 75 million voters are perpetuating the hatred of those dark days. I will never understand.
Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling sick for two days. Those were very tough years starting with Kennedy’s assassination. So many people sacrificed so much to create a more perfect union. And now many of the beneficiaries of those changes have voted for a regime whose goal is to burn it all down. Whatever we do going forward, don’t waste time on horizontal hostility. The blame game is an indulgence the anti-MAGAs cannot indulge in. Trump is Putin’s puppet and the oligarchs are out to steal the show with Project 2025. Unmask them.
dontcha think the problem is how nakedly UNMASKED they are?
for me, the shocking thing is how many people are willing to swallow the whole Populist Pill, which is exemplified by somebody winning an election on that "I am your retribution" bullshit. and it's especially crazy when the only available evidence indicates that the person saying it wouldn't want to be in the same elevator with ANY of them.
With RFK's assassination it felt like the music stopped. It's never been the same.
Yes.
Agreed
“Ask not what your country can do for you, ask rather what you can do for your country”. So shameful that we are soon to have a president and a cabinet full of lackeys that claim all they do is for us, when actually the reverse is true.
Wait and see what they do TO us.
How that changed everything…for all of us. The national trauma has echoed through the decades and this once young innocent has been body-slammed over and over since. I hope the most recent blow will not be the final one, for me or the country.
So true, JD.
This essay combined with Heather Cox Richardson’s post about November 22 provide quite the picture of that day. I had just turned 10 two days before. I was in my 4th grade classroom when I learned the news. It was a terrible weekend, full of grief. Sadly, we have turned backwards to a hateful time.
Turned backwards, indeed.
I was 2 years old but I still remember my mother (in India) was crying. Tears rolling down her beautiful face. I ripened fast as they say in Bengali. I started writing when I was 2 years old. Yes, I still remember the day because I only saw my mom crying 4 times in my life. It was the first time. Thanks for a powerful post Tom.
I was in English class and we got the announcement and some of us started crying— school was dismissed early and we went home to stay in front of our televisions and see what happened. We were all in shock.
“…October 27, 1962, the full (executive committee) reconvened without the president for an after- dinner meeting in the Cabinet Room. The discussion became heated, as the hawks loudly insisted that they.had been proven right, that the blockade had not succeeded in inducing Khrushchev to pull back. Suddenly Vice President Johnson, who had largely remained silent in our discussions since the beginning, spoke up: ‘All I know is that when you were walking along a Texas road and a rattlesnake rose up ready to strike, there was only one thing to do- take a long stick and knock its head off.’ His uncomfortably clear meaning was chilling.” Counselor by Ted Sorensen, pp. 304
I was in grade school when the announcement came over the PA; The President has been shot.
I was stunned. Those of us who had a parent at home were allowed to walk home. The rest had to stay at school until the busses came at the end of the school day. (We rode Seattle city busses to and from school 20 cents each way.) It was an overcast day with a sprinkle of rain. My mom was typically stoic when my sister and I got home.
"...As it turned out, November 22, 1963 was merely the first of too many days in my life I can never forget..." And so it began. Amen TC
Thanks for this post, TC. I was 5, and when it got to be 2:00 on the west coast, I stopped doing whatever I did as a kid not attending school did (I was already reading, and had probably been playing some game involving make believe, stuffed animals, and forts) and I went into the living room to watch The Match Game. My folks were watching the TV, stunned. Two neighbors were there, one other man who worked nights, and a neighbor lady that my Mom had coffee with regularly. My Dad crying, the first and one of about 5 times I saw him in tears, as was my Mom. I wanted to change the channel to watch my show. The adults were upset (to put it mildly) and Mom took me back to the back part of the house with my little record player and a "Quick Draw McGraw" album, where I stayed for several days.
Tom, thank you for writing about that day. It was my first college semester in Cincinnati. The emotions ...well there is just no describing the terrible loss and emptiness...felt numerous times since and I know all your readers have marked the dates and recall them. 22 November 1963 has become one of too many when the truest heart in the IDEA of America has been broken. The feelings about this election for many of us, I sense a true majority, is built of the same kind of grief that begins in the pit if the stomach and rolls over you in a wave you have no power to escape. The only option is endurance and going through with as much integrity as you have built over years knowing how to do what is honest, ethical, and moral. The orcs and their leaders however never give in or give up. So...those of good heart cannot give in or give up, for to do that is to deny who you are as a human.
I was in second grade & went home & cried with my mother & Cronkite. We thought it was about the battle to stop civil rights. Then when MLK & RFK were assassinated it seemed to be true. All the conspiracy theories were unleashed with Mafia, Cuba, Oswald/Russia, etc. Felt like it was whoever snuffed him first. The funeral was so powerfully sad, I related to the children who I saw at our east coast horse shows - John john on his pony Macaroni made it personal as I had just lost my father too.& the black horse with the backward boots in the procession affected me deeply. The fight is formidable but must be fought. A sad day then & now.
I was in 5th grade art class when our principal made the announcement over the PA that the President had been shot. School was dismissed at the second announcement that he had died. Our country is still feeling the after affects of President Kennedy’s assassination these decades later.
I was a freshman in high school, second period, when the principal came to the classroom door and announced that JFK had been shot in Dallas. The whole class was stunned, then ten minutes later came the news that Kennedy had died. The rest of the day and next was a daze, everything just seemed so unreal. Segue to Sunday, I was watching TV when Jack Ruby fired his revolver into Oswald’s stomach and wondered what the Hell was going on? I still cannot process how Ruby knew where to go and smuggle a firearm into Police Headquarters…too convenient. Then Monday watching the funeral and burial at Arlington…unforgettable memories for a 13 year-old.
Classes were emptied, out of foreboding likely, I was walking my little brother home from school across the athletic field lunchboxes clanging. The sky looked very big and we felt very small and alone.
Thanks for your remembrance of that day. I was in Jr. High History class. The previous class was Gym, where we watched a documentary of what to do when an atomic bomb dropped. Feeling somewhat unsettled by that, my classmates and I had just been seated and were wrestling out our text books when the announcement came over the loudspeakers. Our history teacher, an older woman whom we all regarded as something of a fuddy-duddy said "This the first time in your life that you have experienced such a tragedy. There will me more, but you will never forget this day" She wisely led a discussion of how we were feeling, and then came the announcement that school was dismissed. Later that day I want to the supermarket and was shocked when I saw our minister, a rock of a man with a calm and stoic demeanor, crying over the frozen vegetables. It was the first of the many tragedies of the 60's that we endured. On May 3, 1970, I had dinner with Allison Krause, who the next morning was shot by the National Guard. I pray that we are not on the road to another series of self-inflicted national disasters.