I was a brand-new teenager, mostly interested in teasing my hair into a big bubble and wondering when my parents were ever going to let me ride in cars with boys.
I clearly remember Kennedy's assassination. Lost innocence.
We were glued to our television screens. (We had only one screen -- like most families.)
I remember Black Jack, the Riderless Horse.
I remember John John's salute.
We mourned as a nation -- together.
I also remember saying to my dad, "Why are they bringing Oswald out into that crowd? Somebody is going to take a pot-shot at him."
And then, out stepped Ruby. We saw it happen. Live. Violence. Right there on our screen.
Yesterday, as I watched the attack on our sacred, fragile Democracy, I again said, "Why." But -- yesterday, that question was rhetorical. I already knew the answer.
Boomer
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