Friday, November 22, 1963
I remember that day. Friday afternoon
the head of my department came into the room and announced that the
President had been shot. He sent everyone home for the rest of the
day. Nobody knew exactly what was happening. We were all is a state
of shock that something like this could happen in the United States
to our young and vibrant President. I spent that whole weekend glued
to the old black and white television that continuously reported on
the events taking place in Dallas and later in Washington. The whole
country watched the memorial and the burial and the killing of
Oswald. The whole country stopped for that week after the
assassination and watched. We watched as the Vice President Lyndon
Johnson, who we really didn't even know, took over the reins of the
federal bureaucracy. We watched John John as he saluted his father's
casket. We watched as the Kennedys gathered sadly and stone faced.
We waited to see who had been up on the grassy knoll behind the
fence. We wondered how one man could have been so accurate so
quickly to hit the moving cars. I think most everyone assumed it was
a hit squad covering the route from several points. It had us all
watching and waiting and sadly missing President Jack Kennedy.
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