50 years ago, on November 22, 1963, I was an 8th grader at John F. Kennedy Jr. High School in Cupertino, CA (before anyone had heard of Cupertino!) This was the first school in the nation named after JFK. The school board decided to name it after whoever won the election! I guess I came pretty close to attending Richard Nixon Jr. High!
I was waiting in line to get back into Mr. Jones' science class when I heard an announcement on the school PA. I couldn't really make it out, it was such a crappy PA, but it sounded serious, like maybe somebody got hurt in shop class. When we went inside, Mr. Jones had pulled out a radio and we all listened to the news. Now we knew what was going on, but it seemed unreal. Then the news that the President was dead came on. I don't have photographic memory of that moment, just this general feeling of seriousness beyond my years.
At some point, we were out walking around the big grassy playing field, with a couple of friends. I remember we were wondering if the Russians were behind it or not, and if they were, would this mean war?
We were dismissed early to go home, and I still remember on the way home, seeing this young mother, who I used to babysit for, just standing out on her driveway, sobbing. So sad.
My parents were Nixon voters, so I didn't really have any realistic opinions of Kennedy back then. My parents were watching live in their bedroom when Jack Ruby shot Oswald; I came in just after the event, it was a chaotic scene.
It took me a long time to realize what the significance of that day meant.
