JFK
42 years ago...
My generation's 9/11.
We all remember where we were. I was at Logan Airport in Boston waiting at the international terminal for a friend coming from the Philippines for a visit. My friend was a Mestizo, part Filipino, part Austrian, my father's best friend and doubles partner.
As I waited an oversized Irish state trooper, came to the door of customs and announced, seemingly more to his anguished self than to those of us standing there, "Some idiot in Dallas has taken a shot at the President."
"Was he hit?"
"We don't know."
Charlie cleared customs and, as we embraced, he asked me what I knew of Kennedy's well being. He was clearly as affected as I. I told him I had heard nothing. At the first traffic light, Charlie rolled down the wondow of my Nash Rambler and asked the woman stopped alongside us (I had no radio in my car) of word of the president.
"He's dead."
"Oh shit!" Charlie exclaimed (that word was only used in men's locker rooms in those days). The woman looked shocked. I always wondered whether she was more shocked by the assassination or by Charlie's profanity.
Our world changed that day, in ways we could not have imagined. And we will never know how many of those changes would have come had the young President not been shot. It was my introduction into the cruelty of reality. 9/11 came to me as confirmation.
My generation's 9/11.
We all remember where we were. I was at Logan Airport in Boston waiting at the international terminal for a friend coming from the Philippines for a visit. My friend was a Mestizo, part Filipino, part Austrian, my father's best friend and doubles partner.
As I waited an oversized Irish state trooper, came to the door of customs and announced, seemingly more to his anguished self than to those of us standing there, "Some idiot in Dallas has taken a shot at the President."
"Was he hit?"
"We don't know."
Charlie cleared customs and, as we embraced, he asked me what I knew of Kennedy's well being. He was clearly as affected as I. I told him I had heard nothing. At the first traffic light, Charlie rolled down the wondow of my Nash Rambler and asked the woman stopped alongside us (I had no radio in my car) of word of the president.
"He's dead."
"Oh shit!" Charlie exclaimed (that word was only used in men's locker rooms in those days). The woman looked shocked. I always wondered whether she was more shocked by the assassination or by Charlie's profanity.
Our world changed that day, in ways we could not have imagined. And we will never know how many of those changes would have come had the young President not been shot. It was my introduction into the cruelty of reality. 9/11 came to me as confirmation.
posted by Blayney at 8:35 AM
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