Nov. 22,1963

On this date, I was eleven years old and in the sixth grade. This was the first day of my young life that I found out how painful life could be beyond my family. John F. Kennedy was visiting Dallas with his wife. There was a girl in my class that had an older sister. That sister worked for John Kennedy. She was secretary in his office staff. My class had been very excited during the term of Jack Kennedy because we often heard things from this girl that her sister had shared. So that day we were all so very excited to have the President in our state. My hometown is just about an hour away from Dallas.

Then we were told by our teacher what had happened. Everyone in the class cried. Over the next four days history became very real to us. The local news was filled with what was happening moment by moment. I doubt there will ever be four days to compare to those. The world stopped and mourned with us.

Dallas became the city that killed Kennedy. No matter where I went for years afterwards when I said I was from TX, people mentioned Kennedy dying in Dallas. It was our shame as a state. Texans are proud of our state. This was a black mark that still hurts. I still cry thinking about those four days.

That day changed me. I was no longer a child in many ways. I understood suffering, loss and heartache in a new manner. I realized how outside events could change my small world. I've experienced many historical moments since then, but this one is the one that will always be the most painful one.