I was in the first grade, a six year old dreamer. My few memories of Sherman School are terrifying. Being forced to square dance regularly, red ants invading the playground, and some older kids scaring us little kids with dry ice. Why dry ice was scary I do not know, but it most certainly was.
Our neighbors on Leavenworth Street were the Waldrons. They had one child, Sara. We were fast pals, she being a year older than me. Her dad often took us to school, and he had the coolest Volkswagen Bug ever. It would start without a key, which I found mysterious and exciting.
"That" morning, I remember the teacher telling us that President Kennedy was dead, and then all of the school's students being herded through the hallways and onto the playground. Reactions were varied, depending on ages of the children. Us young ones seemed mostly frightened and confused, and some kids in the upper grades were noticeably upset. All of the teachers and staff seemed to be wailing.
I was indeed confused, yet aware of the enormity of the unfolding event. See, my parents were big JFK supporters, always. Politics were already familiar to me-since I had heard grown ups discussing them from the time I could comprehend. I still recall my father's disdain for Barry Goldwater.
At one point, after what seemed like an unusually long stint on the playground, an older student approached me, sobbing. She said: "Why aren't you crying? Don't you know the president was shot?" Then she punched me in the stomach. And I cried.
School ended early. Things were intense when I got home from school that day. My parents were upset in a way I was unfamiliar with. And although I had not yet reached the alleged age of reason (7 years), I knew that the reliable little world I had known would never be the same. It was not.
My second grade report card from Sherman School.
7 comments:
that mean girl must have been from the "I'll give you something to cry about" school of thought.
Imagine what little 6 year old Caroline was wondering....
His death ushered in many more heroes soon to fall. What a turn in history.
Cannot put myself in her place, and have always pitied her, so much of her life scrutized and observed, like all of Joe Kennedy's descendants.
The day after the assassination was my parents 5th wedding anniversary. I'm guessing they did not celebrate. Less than 2 years later, they were divorced.
I can't imagine someone punching you in the stomach because you weren't crying. If I were in that playground, I would have talked some serious sense into that girl, or I would have liked to in my childhood fantasy of peacemaking.
Those were sad, dark days. We are long down the road of that brutal trajectory. Someone called the assassination a "tectonic shift" and yes, I believe it was.
So sad that your parents' anniversary was the next day. Heartbreaking in all ways.
Make that scrutinized.
Your memories of that day are really heartbreaking---that little girl punching you in the stomach---CRAZY!!!Such a bizarre angry reaction---and like, WHY???
Life was not the same for anyone after that day, I'm afraid. But to be so young and have this so tied up to your parents....
Thanks for coming by and for your comment, my dear.
Your insight as a little girl about how the security you had enjoyed and how it was gone so suddenly is very good. Adults were slower to pick up on that.
I was working in an office building downtown on one of those big bookkkeeping machines that are now no longer in existence. A woman ran in and told us the news. We were stunned and did not know what to think at all.
Sprayed Gravy sez: I like the teachers note: Anne must practice self control" That is a problem I have had for almost 60 years. And that is what attracted me to you in the first place. CONTROL YOU MUST LOOSE CONTROL!!!!!
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