Tuesday, November 22, 2011

November 22 – “November 22nd”

 
 
November 22nd.  Wasn't this the day President Kennedy was assassinated?  I think I was in fourth or fifth grade at the time.  We were at school, with our deepest concern being Little League baseball or when was our next spelling test.  I remember first hearing the teachers talking in hushed tones.  It's always harder to eavesdrop when the target is "talking in hushed tones."  Not that I made a practice of eavesdropping, of course.  Sometimes it was helpful in furthering one's status among one's peers, however, if one knew some insider information that could be passed on.  And as I recall, I had a pretty pitiful self-image back then, so I felt like I needed all the help I could get.  Ah, the joys of life in a gossip-driven society like fourth grade. 
 
All I was ever able to make out from standing near the teacher conclaves that were accelerating all over the school was something that sounded like "the president has been shocked."  Now that totally confused me.  Why would it be such a big deal that he had been shocked?  I got shocked one time when I wanted to see what would happen if plugged in an old plug I found.  It was just that – an old plug.  It wasn't connected to anything but about four inches of wire.  What could go wrong?  It didn't throw me across the room or knock me off a ladder.  That happened years later when I made a foolish attempt to install an air conditioner.  Another story.  Another day.  My shock was quite minimal, though quite memorable.  It felt kind of like getting bitten by a tiny dog with very dull teeth that kept grinding back and forth.  Or maybe, as I have found out in years since, like a sheepshead fish clamping down on your finger.  Their entire mouth is covered in molar-type teeth, and once they clamp down it is hard to convince them to change their mind.  Sometimes the reason they get caught is that they have clamped down on the hook and refuse to let go, even though they are not actually hooked. 
 
The kids were buzzing at lunch.  Everyone it seemed could tell that something big was afoot in the world of the adults, but no one had any details.  It wasn't until we arrived in music class, with the frightening Mrs. Littman, that we heard what had really happened.  This white-haired scary lady who held us all in fear on music days was actually fighting back tears as she told us the president had been shot.  Shot, not shocked.  My hearing never was very good. 
 
As kids we reacted in many different ways.  Some of the girls started crying right away.  That's one thing I have always been jealous about.  Girls have the option of crying no matter what they feel.  All it means is that feel.  Something.  Guys have to be strong and masculine, right?  I remember joining the group of guys who were ready to take on the killer right then and tear him limb from limb. 
 
Not a single one of us understood the political ramifications of the deed, other than perhaps throwing out a negative epithet or two against "Those Russians."  We had no ideas about further terrorist activity or threats to our own safety.  We couldn't say if we were Republican or Democrat.  All we knew was the president was dead.  The guy we all identified with because he seemed so young.  And he had long hair.  And he talked funny.  And he had a pretty wife.  And two kids who were even younger than we were.  We watched the TV coverage religiously for days after.  We saw motorcades and caissons and a two-year-old saluting his Daddy.  We followed coverage of catching the bad guy, and saw him shot in the stomach while in police custody.  I don't think we understood that we were living through a significant point in history.  We just knew our teachers and our parents were visibly shaken, and that shook us as well.  And we saw them continue on.  Return to work.  Take a deep breath and do the next thing.  We saw them overcome.  And we determined to join them. 
 
Isaiah 1:18 says, "'Come now, let us reason together,' says the Lord.  'Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool.'"
 
Father, thank you for the lessons we learned from our parents and teacher when they didn't know they were teaching.  They sunk in the best.  Amen.

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