NOVEMBER 22, 1963
I was in the Navy. We had a big inspection that day. After the personnel inspection was over, we were released onto North Island NAS.
Some friends and I were headed to the EM club to get burgers for lunch. All of a sudden, we saw this "gold braid" Chief Petty Officer (all that means he is the Most Serious Guy you can deal with in the Navy, a totally clean record for 12 years to qualify) in full uniform. Chief Aviation Boatwain’s Mate. I remember he had 8 "hashmarks" on his sleeve, and was a big barrel-chested guy. He came around the corner and ran up the street toward us. He was shouting at the top of his lungs, "The president's been shot!" repeatedly.
When he got close, one of us said "Hey Chief, that's not funny!"
He stopped. Looked at us. Came over. When a Chief Petty Officer comes your way with a look like that on his face, you don't argue.
He stopped in front of us, glared and said, "I said: The. President. Has. Been. SHOT!" To which we all said "Yes, chief!"
He then ordered us to go back to our ship. When we got there, the inspection had been called off. A couple minutes later I was watching TV in the ship's lounge and Walter Cronkite announced Kennedy was dead. We were all released from duty. My best friend and I went over to my girlfriend's house in East San Diego, where her friends and other friends of ours were gathered.
We spent the weekend staring at the TV. Saw Ruby kill Oswald live on the air.
Her father was a retired Chief. I don't think there were 100 words exchanged all weekend.
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I was 15, A sophomore in high School. I spent most of my time worrying about my hair. My mother gave me these permanents that made me look like an electrified schnauzer. I also wondered if I would ever get my period, go on a date, learn how to spell, (I am Dyslexic) or grow breasts...I was a very late bloomer. I was in the dance room waiting to try out to be a cheerleader. All the other girls had breasts, shining bouffant hair and pink lipstick. I really hated them but I thought if I got on the squad I might become a more sane version of them that would get a boyfriend and be able to spell discombobulated without a brain freeze. We were ordered to the auditorium on the intercom and told the president was dead and released from School. I walked home numb and then watched TV with my mom and little sister. It seemed like a strange dream. I had not experienced a personal death yet and this event seemed too awful to be real. I was sad but mostly, I think, for the loss of my feeling that the world was a good and safe place. The Ruby shooting, Jackie in her pink blood spattered suit, little John John. It was all quite shocking. I saw past childhood and saw grief and evil clearly for the first time. I Did not become a cheerleader, I got a pixie haircut, (the only safe hairdo ever, I still have one), and became less delusional about life... except about the opposite sex... that took me a little longer - about 45 years. 😻
I was in Grade 10, in a biology class. I think we were all too young, too immature to grasp the totality of the moment. The word spread. Ours teacher was a cold fish, and went on with the class. Our school leaders were not leaders. There was no announcement, we stayed until the final bell sent us home to our black-and-white televisions. We watched and watched and watched.
That evening, the synagogue was filled spontaneously. The rabbi gave a sermon that brought little comfort. The entire congregation rose, and we all said the Kaddish, the mourner's prayer. I had never spoken those words before, had only seen the adults stand and recite them. Some of us wept.
I was numb. It was too enormous to process, certainly too much to realize how the world had changed that Friday. That realization came later, seeped into my consciousness as floodwaters sometimes do, slowly, relentlessly, and I understood that nothing would ever be the same.
So many deaths followed: Malcolm, Marrtin, Bobby, 50+ thousand, and on and on.