Where were you when JFK was shot? What do you remember from that day, besides the obvious?
4th grade - Sister Teresa’s class. The principal came on the PA system and told us the president had been shot. I remember crying. My 9-year-old self was still naive enough to believe that presidents were special people.
In me Mudder’s luvvin arms.
But when RFK was shot, I was bigger, but not yet in school. I was at home, watching TV, while Mom slept in. (My newborn brother was wearing her out.)
I heard about the killing, & toddled in to tell Mom.
“Mommy? Mr. Kennedy was shot.”
“Yes baby, that happened years ago. Let Mommy sleep.”
I toddled out, but I had my doubts.
I went back to the TV. Listened some more. Back I went to Mom.
“Mommy, Mr. Kennnedy was shot today.”
“No baby, years ago. Go way.”
“No Mommy. It was his brother. I think it’s important.”
That got her up.
Ever since then. I’ve had the habit of telling people about breaking news stories.
On a grassy knoll in Dallas, Texas.
Third grade class. Don’t remember how I first heard about it. Strongest memory from that day was the fact that the afternoon paper arrived four hours later than usual.
Too young to remember JFK but I can still clearly remember sitting on the stairs and seeing Mom get upset watching the TV when RFK died.
I was watching a show about “The Men That Killed Kennedy” last night when my Dad called and mentioned it to him. Born in Ft. Worth, he was in Georgia in grad school when the professor walked into the room and told the class “Well those damn Texans have killed the president.”
I’ll always find that sentiment infuriating.
Too young to remember JFK but I can still clearly remember sitting on the stairs and seeing Mom get upset watching the TV when RFK died.
I was watching a show about “The Men That Killed Kennedy” last night when my Dad called and mentioned it to him. Born in Ft. Worth, he was in Georgia in grad school when the professor walked into the room and told the class “Well those damn Texans have killed the president.”
I’ll always find that sentiment infuriating.
Second grade. I was coming back from the bathroom and I saw two teachers crying in the hallway. This was a bad sign. In those days, teachers didn’t show much emotion. I went to my class and the teacher told us the President had been shot. Debbie M. started laughing hysterically. Then they sent us home. I walked into the house and my mom was staring at the tv crying and crying…
Second grade. I was coming back from the bathroom and I saw two teachers crying in the hallway. This was a bad sign. In those days, teachers didn’t show much emotion. I went to my class and the teacher told us the President had been shot. Debbie M. started laughing hysterically. Then they sent us home. I walked into the house and my mom was staring at the tv crying and crying…
My parents were 12 and 16, so I wasn’t much of anywhere.
First grade (I still remember my teacher’s name—Cordelia Weller). It would have been late morning, East Cost time, and someone came into the room and whispered to Miss Weller, who left the room for a few minutes. We got out early, and I got home to find my mother watching it on TV. We all watched the funeral, the first one I’d seen—to this day when I see a flag-draped coffin, I have a JFK flashback.
I could see you from the book repository!
Me? Under construction–still breathing through gills.
But my Dad was teaching HS that day and they came in and whispered to the teachers and then he had to tell the class. Even though he’s also Irish Catholic, it so happened that he couldn’t stand JFK. He found himself sobbing anyway–the very idea that such a thing could happen was a shock.
I was a fetus, one month and one day from being born.
Haj
Sixth grade. It was during recess. We were outside on the grass by the school (must’ve been warm for November) and they announced on the PA that the president had been shot. Later, after we went in, there was an announcement he had died.
I had Cub Scouts that afternoon. We kept getting reports – “they caught the guy who did it” – from people coming in. Went home and watched things on TV (including Ruby shooting Oswald).
My parents were nine and eight, both in elementary school, which closed for two or three days after the assassination, I believe.
I was working a door to door bread delivery route in NW Dallas, about ten(?) miles from Dealey Plaza. A customer told me about it and it ruined my day. The ID number of my delivery truck was 109 and of course everyone dubbed it PT-109. It was a damn bad day, all around.
The most interesting story I know is my friend Sharon, who was in Parkland Hospital that day, waiting to have her tonsils removed (she was in the Navy at the time). She said everyone was in such hysterics they pretty much forgot about her for a week or so, and she’d go AWOL every night.
7th grade, Mr. Cheek’s social studies class. The principal came on the intercom about 1:30, made the announcement that JFK had been shot and dismissed school.
I was in first grade, and they did not announce it at school. It was later at home that my brother came back from junior high school, and wanted to know why we weren’t watching TV “because the president was shot”.