I was three and in nursery school (they didn't have preschools yet, at least in my part of the world) but I do remember it. My nursery school was on the campus of a public elementary school, and the principal called all the teachers on the intercom and told tham that the president had been shot. I recall thinking, "What president?" because in my world at that time, there was a president of the Little League, a president of the Lions' Club, a president of the Campfire Girls, a president of the local Teamsters' Union, of the PTA, and probably more organizations that I'm not remembering, and I wondered which one had been shot. Then my teacher mentioned his name, and I realized she was talking about President Kennedy. We took a walk through the neighborhood, presumably because the teacher was too upset to teach, and came across the mother of one of the children in my preschool class. She told my teacher that the president had died, and the teacher told us. I'm not sure how necessary it was to tell a group of three- and four-year-olds about the death of the president, but I suppose we were all going to find out anyway, and I don't recall anyone being hysterical, with the possible exception of the teachers.
My thoughts were mostly about Jackie and the kids. I was aware of them because my parents were staunch Catholics and democrats. We had a framed picture of JFK on our wall. I remember lots of "Look" and "Life" magazines with their family pictures. My mom said that they'd have to move out of the White House, and I was worried about where they would go. I had no comprehension of their wealth, so I envisioned them moving to a shack like ones we had on the outskirts of town where one of my older sister's fatherless classmates lived.
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