November 22, 1963

Every generation has one or more of it’s “Do you remember where you were …” days. I guess that more than any other…this day…sticks in my mind over all others. As I look back on the days, weeks and years that followed, I realize that it changed everything. Everything.

That Friday started out like most. My senior year at Roby High School. My ranking in the class of 26 was not on my mind and I was loved, safe and thought kindly of by peers and adults alike. I was oblivious to politics or the war in Asia. I cared only about if my 56 Ford had the right hubcaps and could outrun McCormick’s 55.

A bright sunny day, it was typical for us to gather after lunch in the drive between the grade school and high school and just hang out till the bell rang at 1:00 for class. Around 12:45 someone came to the area and told us to go ahead to our 1 o’clock class that something was happening. As we sat down Mrs. Hughs told us the president had been shot and his condition was not know as they were transporting him to the hospital. They placed the radio next to the microphone and played the breaking news thru the speakers in each classroom.

First with my classmates

We sat with some remarks and wise cracks passed back and forth for a while, and then the mood darkened and we sat quietly. Shortly after 1:00pm, when our class bell rang, the first reports of how seriously President Kennedy’s wounds were started to prepare us, and everyone in the country, for what was about to change our world. When the announcement came that he had died it was about 1:20 and was made by a reporter who could barely speak the words.

As I looked at my classmates I can only described what I saw as “stunned silence”. A first for me and probably most of them. After a few minutes of some crying and others trying to console without knowing how…the loud speaker said that school was dismissed and we should go to be with our families. It was one of the few times I took the suggestions of an adult and I went home. .

Then with my family

I cannot remember if my sister rode with me or with someone else. But soon both of us were home with Mom, Dad, baby sister Mary Jo and Grannie Phelps. Mom cried, Grannie prayed aloud and my Dad looked helpless with misty eyes. Crickett and I turned on the television where the black and white live news feed was as chaotic and the world had now become.

We watched for an hour or two and then I needed some alone time. Got in my car and just drove…in town…out on the road…windows down. As I drove I heard the disconnected reports of Oswald’s role, Tippet’s murder and the takedown at the Texas theater. It was all so random and I had a hard time putting it together. All I knew was that things had changed. Things I was so familiar with seemed different…really different. And I drove…fast.

Saturday’s a blur. I don’t remember the day’s events. But, Sunday morning is very clear. I would sometimes sit in Johnny Stewart’s service station driveway since he was closed. I would watch the morning crowd at the Roby Church of Christ and the traffic on the road which was part of the drag. I could watch the world go by without burning gas and on a good morning I could pull in KOMA radio out of Oklahoma City. They played the Top 40. That is where I was at 11:20am that Sunday morning.

“We are breaking in to your listening for this report out of Dallas. Lee Harvey Oswald has been shot”. I remember sort of a nausea as my body physically reacted to the continuation of the madness. I sat and listened and wondered if the people in church should be told. Soon it became apparent, as they started to trickle out early, that they had heard. Some left almost in a panic…some stayed and prayed.

Then with the world

Over the next few days we were all glued to our television to watch the mourning play out. From the casket lying in state to the final salute from a son to his father our collective hearts broke. My 17 year old self mourned in a way I did not understand. I was conflicted by the desire to go on with my life and the knowledge that this moment deserved my attention and respect.

Putting it together

Many years later as Lee and I were in Las Vegas we went to a musical called “BeeHive-The 60s Musical”. It was a one act play of 6 teen girls with the radio playing in the background. The music is from 6 women in the 60s. Starting with Leslie Gore’s “It’s My Party” and moving thru the decade with music from Aretha Franklin, Tina Turner, Janis Joplin and others. But it is during the Cher hit “The Beat Goes On”, when half way thru the light and happy rendition that the radio in the background says…”Ladies & Gentlemen the president has been shot”. The delivery of the song becomes darker and even darker with the driving beat setting the tone for music to come.

Much of the music after that time was darker, more complex and driven by a drug culture that mirrored their despair coming from the Viet Nam war. It was then, even though I had lived it, I saw the change. The innocence lost. The change in the world. Probably how my parents did after December 7, 1941.

I look forward to the time spoken of in Revelations 21:4

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”