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November 22, 2010 05:25 PM UTC

11/22

  • 11 Comments
  • by: JO

Latin class. Amo, amas, amat, ama…

Unexpectedly before “we love,” a voice from the wall: “The President has been shot.” An hour later, the same voice again: “The President is dead.”

Every detail still sharp: best friend, pacing, frowning. A known twit expressing pleasure that Jack was lost. Everything lost in the fog of time past.

How many of these moments can there be in one life?

  Jack.

  Martin.

  Bobby.

Forty years later, almost exactly, since Bobby: Great good fortune to have a seat to hear the acceptance speech at Invesco. Suddenly, without warning, a feeling lost in Dallas, lost in Memphis, lost in Los Angeles, floods back: He is your leader, JO. Follow him. Yes, he can, you can, we can.

Mistakes have been made, will be made. Turn left, Barack! Turn left! We slog on, no other choice. God Save America from Ouigotcha Ubetcha.

Amidst fresh nightmares, we still dream. At the memory, on this day, we still weep. In his memory, and Martin’s, and Bobby’s, we carry on.

Amamus, Jack.  

Comments

11 thoughts on “11/22

  1. Thank you JO.  That was very well said.  I was a freshman in high school when I heard about the death of John Kennedy.  I will never forget that moment.  Bobby and MLK just added to the pain.

    Until this last election, there just weren’t any politicians that I believed were real leaders.  I’m a little disappointed at what has been accomplished in the last two years, but, as you said, we must slog on.

    I believe that President Obama has done a good job, considering the Rethugs non-stop opposition of his every idea.

    I truly hope and pray that both sides can pull back from their ideologies and remember their obligations and duty to their constituents.

    Peace,

    Jim

  2. That Monday we buried our President. Everything was closed. I watched for hours on that relatively new medium that enabled a nation to mourn as one until the light grew dim outlining the Custis Lee Mansion, taps were played, the salute fired, and the widow handed the flag.

    He now belonged to the ages.  

  3. his death has always had a profound impact on my life. My mother was a huge fan of Jack and was a teenage girl when he was murdered. I grew up hearing tales about his presidency, his scandals, and his wife.

    I’ve seen a couple documentaries and old news reports about Jack’s life and his death and when I think of what this country lost it brings me to tears.

    President Obama is my generation’s JFK. He, like JFK before him, went beyond politics as usual to fire up an entire generation and demographic of voters previously overlooked. Both men were accused of being “celebrities” but it was that status, that persona, that allowed these men inspire so many to become part of our political process. Obama has a tough (possibly unwinnable) war (or two) while JFK was faced with the beginnings of Vietnam as well as the mess in Cuba. Both faced a wall of opposition by the religous right. Obama is the first African-American President while JFK was the first Catholic.

    I pray their presidencies don’t end the same.  

    1. I was in the womb. The psychic trauma for my mother — and a great many of her countrymen — caused her body (and my fetus) to be flooded with cortisol and norepinephrine, stress hormones which can lead to anxiety and depression.

      It’s probably why I grew up having an affinity for music like this:

      I’m not so sure that any politician in my lifetime can make up for all that.

  4. You may or may not recall that I lived in Cape Girardeau, Mo., a little butthole town along the Mississippi just north of the Missouri bootheel, where they grow cotton.  Home town of Rush Limbaugh; I was in school with his brother David, who has written some right-wing religious wacko screeds but to my knowledge has stayed off the radio.

    Anyway, I was in 5th grade in Cape Girardeau when Kennedy was killed.  The principal came to the classroom door and summoned the teacher out into the hall.  She came back in and said, “President Kennedy was shot by a sniper.  Does anyone know what a sniper is?”  The class smartie-pants, Joel Greer, threw up his hand and explained what a sniper was.  Then they let us all go home.  I am still bemused that the teacher used Kennedy’s assassination as a vocabulary lesson.

    My family wasn’t political, and I don’t remember that my parents were particularly shaken up by the assassination.  They voted for Kennedy, but weren’t particularly attached.  My dear, recently-departed, very Irish, very Catholic mother-in-law was a huge fan, and her autographed photo of JFK is still on top of the TV.  If the multitude of siblings-in-law ever get around to fighting over the family treasures, I’m sure much blood will be spilled over that.

  5. This country is very lucky to have had a clear headed individual as commander in chief who at the height of the Cold War had the sanity to avoid nuclear war.

    I visit his grave site every time that I go to DC.

  6. 7th grade language lab (Spanish) for me too–and “the voice from the wall” is a chilling memory.  I put my head on my desk and cried–from loss, and overwhelming fear of the unknown.  What would happen to us?  

      I saw JFK in Wichita KS on his Presidential campaign.  It was an outdoor stadium and all sorts of people were there–older folks, young families with kids.  You could just feel the electricity in the air–the feeling that something new was happening, that things were going to be different.  And then everything changed.

    You can add another name to your list: John Lennon.  I saw a PBS special last night on his time in the US including his death, and it brought back anew that familiar, terrible sense of grief and loss, that something special had been taken from us.    

    We carry on, but we carry these memories too.

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