I remember a bright November day in 1963 when my world changed. I was a junior at Victory Academy, a Catholic high school in Buffalo, New York. The first inkling that something had happened was the hushed buzz of conversation among my teachers.
The students were instructed to go back to their homerooms, even though it was not dismissal time. Then the announcement was made, President John F. Kennedy has been assassinated in Dallas, Texas.
Numb with disbelief, I recalled seeing President Kennedy only a week earlier at a Catholic Youth Organization convention in New York City. He stood high above the exuberant throng of thousands of Catholic teenagers and spoke to us in his distinctive Boston accent. We claimed him for our own, and he smiled, seeming to exude a golden aura. I don’t remember what he said, but I do remember being overwhelmed by his very presence.
It was my first exposure to pure charisma, an experience that I would never forget.
Now he was dead. And with him, I felt that a dream had died, too.
Yes, it was the end of Camelot and the Age of Innocence. The world did change and people began to mistrust the government. It hasn’t changed much since. I remember his youth, vitality and hopefulness for the future. Wish we had that now.
The feelings of so many of us. You have expressed it well.
President Kennedy’s assassination was one of the darkest, saddest times in my memory. I was a young fourth grade teacher then, full of hope for our country. That week end I was working on a drawing of the quaint St. Mary’s Episcopal Church in Ronkonkoma NY for our Christmas Card. That 1963 Christmas Card only evokes poignant memories: The loss of a great man who never reached his full potential.