Sharing stories…..
In a prior post, I talked about JFK’s assassination…I was in first grade and how the day became our generation’s watermark. {Shameless plug !]
The ‘next week’ (her ‘time’) came and Allie and I didn’t meet. Come that Friday, she slipped me a hand signal at her locker that she was recovering. Monday, her clarinet case is turned over. Inside is a note ‘Ready!!!’ and a smiley face.
This time, she’s first one down, waiting in the dark. “I’m the ghost of Christmas past,” I say as I walk in. “You’re in luck,” comes the reply. “I really want to kiss a ghost.”
And so we do, eventually adjourning to the couch. After hungrily mauling each other, she stands, combing her hair. “This morning, on the drive over, Douglas and I were remembering when Kennedy was killed.”
“He drives you here?’
A Shrug. “I’m a block from grabbing the bus and 6 long blocks if I walk. If the weather sucks or I have heels on, it’s bus. Not a bad walk. He drops me off when he can.”
“I was in first grade,” I say, then recount my memories of November 22 and that slamming door.
“My teacher was Mrs. Hartley,” she says. ” Someone knocks on the door, she goes in the hall. She’s acting really weird when she comes back, tells us school is over an hour early today. We should gather our stuff and go to the gym unless we walk home.”
“We’re all keyed up as we shuffle down the hall; wow, an hour early for the weekend. The third grade teacher is alone in her room and I wandered if she was crying. Douglas and I walked home back then; he somehow finds me in the gym and we leave.”
“I ask what’s going on and he says Kennedy has been shot in Texas. I asked dumb stuff like ‘why did someone hate him’ and ‘does that mean we’re at war’. He tells me not to worry; mom, dad, and he will protect me.”
“And here’s the bad part, we pass this corner store–it’s closed now– and the owner is sitting outside on the steps. There’s a loud radio playing inside, but it’s just people talking. He was a nice happy guy, but now he’s sobbing into this wrinkled handkerchief. His back is heaving and he doesn’t even look up as we pass.”
“I’ll never forget seeing him that way. John Kennedy really meant something to some people.”