22

 This day, one wanders and wonders.  There is moire than meets the eye.  Remember what has happened as a result.  But where were we?

Particular events  stoke our memories.  12/7/41, 6/6/44, 9/11/01 and so on.  Both good and bad, we may have been alive and somewhere.  Everything from birthdays to attacks reside within and around us.  

Today is 11/22.

In 1963, a young man sat in his 8th Grade Social Studies class.  It was a Friday and the weekend promised relief.  And it was a movie day to boot.  No notes.  Just sit and watch the show.  I think it was a break for the teacher too.  

During the film, he noticed the Principal slipped in and talked to the teacher.  His expression was grim as he whispered something to her.  She burst into tears.  He patted her arm and left.

She immediately stopped the film, turned on the lights and came to the front of the class.

''Class, the President has been shot.''  She then dismissed the kids to their homerooms.

In the hall, it was mostly stunned silence, a lot for Jr High students.  The boys were grim and many of the girls were teary.

Not much else was known at the time.  They prayed and hoped he would be ok. 

The homeroom teacher read 'Sail On Oh Ship Of State'.  Good advice.     We were to hang on and stay the course.

We quietly went home by usual means.  Quietly.

He remembered walking the 3 blocks home.  No other kids.  Alone with his thoughts and a hunger to understand.  

The teachers then were top notch.  Patriotic, God fearing folk who encouraged kids' potential.  And they unofficially were for kids to settle things among themselves.  Yet there was guidance.  And they listened.

The weekend was a veil of grief, punctuated with the assassination of the supposed killer.

He knew there was more and started him on a lifelong quest for truth.  It is just beginning 60 years later.

We must not fall for the con.  We must expose perfidy.