One generation remembers Pearl Harbor; another 9/11. For most of us Baby Boomers, it was November 22, 1963, the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas that will forever be etched in our minds as the first time we shared the gut-wrenching grief and sense of loss with the rest of the world.
Those who can give personal memories for all three seminal events are dwindling; the narrative lessens over time. Today marks a milestone in time and remembrance. Forty-five years have passed since the day Kennedy was shot. My parents often recalled what became known as a "Day of Infamy" Pearl Harbor (December 7, 1941.) However, I was too preoccupied with childish concerns to understand the significance of that event. Historians are still debating whether the US knew ahead of time that Pearl Harbor, Hawaii was to be attacked by Japanese war planes that would kill thousands and destroy the Pacific Fleet, thus precipitating the US entry into World War Two. No one will argue that it was an event that brought the nation together in grief, outrage and the resolve to avenge the deaths and destruction of the attack.
I was born on the cusp of the Baby Boom; we were the first of the wave of children who would crowd the school systems and later challenge just about every tradition and value of previous generations.
It had started out okay for us. A new president had been sworn into office in January, 1961. With Kennedy, came a hope that America would move ahead; conquer space; and overcome discrimination and injustice. The Kennedys were a beautiful, charismatic family who were the source of fascination and even satire. Just about every home had a copy of Vaugh Meader's "First Family" an LP that was a send-up of the Kennedys, especially Jacqueline Kennedy's White House Tour that was broadcast into living rooms all across the country. Despite the satire, Americans loved the first family and pictures of Jackie and their two adorable children were seen on covers of magazines practically every month.
So, to the question that is oft asked: Where were you on __________(Pearl Harbor Day, Kennedy Assassination or 9/11,) the responses are as varied as the people who answer, but few don't automatically answer that question; it stays with one forever. As for me, I was just finishing a physical education class at Clark Gym on the campus of the University of Buffalo. At the time, I was a Phys. Ed. major, believe it or not. Someone said that the president had been shot, so I quickly dressed and went to the student union and I knew it was bad when I opened the main door of what was always a beehive of activity, especially on a Friday afternoon, and was met with absolute silence. As I walked the empty hall, I heard the sound of a television in one of the lounges and went in that direction. Several hundred people stood silently watching the television screen and I joined them. Then Walter Cronkite made the pronouncement: John F Kennedy, president of the United States was dead. The audience gasped and the crying began. All I wanted to do is go home and I did - in a daze. My mother was the only one home; she was crying in front of the television as the news of the assassination continued and the shocked and disheveled Jackie Kennedy made her way to the plane that would carry her husband's body back to Washington, D.C. The next several days were filled with fear and pain; Vice President Lyndon Baines Johnson was sworn in aboard the same plane that carried Kennedy's body back to the nation's capital; Jack Ruby shot suspect Lee Harvey Oswald live on our television; the lying in state; the newspapers; the tributes; the memorial and burial at Arlington. In the middle of all this, John F. Kennedy Jr. celebrated his third birthday at the White House. Heartbreaking.
Like Pearl Harbor and 9/11 the debate over who really killed JFK rages on. Many believe that there was more than one shooter and that Oswald was a "Manchurian Candidate" brainwashed and trained to kill by the Russians/Cubans/Mafia or whomever. It really doesn't matter to me. He was killed and the world was never the same afterwards. Many in my generation gave up hope that things would change, myself among them. Eventually I turned my anger towards something I could change and became involved in union organizing. Otherwise, I might be a retired phys. ed. teacher and coach.
Yes, the day Kennedy was shot changed many of us early Boomers forever; the death of JFK was also the death of a generation's dreams and hopes, although we did not realize it at the time. That would come just a few years down the road in Viet Nam.
