JFK and family - long live his memory and may the USA only receive blessings

November 22, 1963 Friday had finally arrived. As an eighth grader at J.L. Long Middle School, I was looking forward to a jam packed weekend. The day promised a couple of classes, a field trip to Downtown Dallas, a sleepover at my friend Chuck Webb's house, and a fishing trip to Lake Tawakoni the following morning with my Dad and Chuck's dad, Leonard. On Sunday we would head to church and later that day to our youth group and then end the day with Sunday evening services. The weather was a welcome change from the previous day's clouds and rain. As I arrived at school, the sun was shining, and I hoped it would stay that way for our fishing trip. I met up with my best friend Ronnie, and we spent a few minutes hanging out on the school yard with some friends before the bell rang. I told Ronnie I'd meet him after second period at the east side of the building where Mrs. Shugart promised to pick us up for the field trip. It was less than two weeks away from my 14th birthday that I would share with Thanksgiving the following week. The morning flew by, and when the ball rang , Ronnie and I quickly made our way to Mrs. Shugart’s station wagon that was parked right where she said it would be, and we joined our classmates Elwin, Jeff, and a few others as we loaded up and headed downtown. We were excited about the field trip and we were now on our way. All these guys skipping school(with approval) headed to downtown Dallas with Mrs. Shugart . Little did we know what the day had in store for us; a day that would change our lives and the lives of most American’s forever. You see, it was Friday, November 22, 1963, at 10:40 am and we were headed to see the President of the United States of America as he and the first lady Jacquelyn Kennedy , Governor John Connelly and his wife prepared for what would be President Kennedy’s last day and would begin a history of controversy that continues to this day. When we left school, the President was in Air Force One on a short flight from Ft. Worth to Dallas Love Field where he would forgo the protective bubble on his limo because it was such a nice November day in Big D. As we headed to downtown, we didn't talk much about the events of the day; we just talked about stuff that 13- and 14-year-old boys talk about. I was not a person who cared much for politics. However, I do remember wearing a pin for the Nixon/Lodge campaign in elementary school. I’m not sure why, it was just the cool thing to do. When Mr. Kennedy was running for President a few years earlier I do remember my Papaw McKinney (Melvin) make a statement about that “damn Catholic” who is running for President. I was about 10, so I wasn’t sure what to think but if my Papaw didn’t like him then I probably shouldn’t either. But, after he won the Presidency, I did like what he said about going to the moon and was as inspired as much as a kid could be with the “ask not” speech. I remember being a little scared at the Bay of Pigs incident. I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but I did know that the “commie bastard Russians” were headed down the coast of California and that the frequency of our tuck and cover drills under our desks had increased. I clearly remember taking home a form that my parents had to fill out as to what I was supposed to do in case of a “disaster”. The choices were to send us home(walk), wait for them to pick us up (not going to happen), or stay at school (until),,,,? Another thing I remember was that the prior President was named Ike and his old, old wife was named Mammie. What kind of name was that anyway. I’m sure they were nice, and I am sure he was a great U.S. General, but they were old. Really old. Unlike Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy who were young, with children and Mrs. Kennedy was pretty. It was a nice change and it was really neat to have a “young family” represent our country. As we drove down Ross Avenue to Downtown I didn't even think about where we were or where our vantage point for the parade would be. The parade route started at Love Field, headed down Mockingbird to Harry Hines and into downtown Dallas on Harwood. I am such a planner now, but that day was left up to Mrs. Shugart’s planning as to where we would watch the parade. Looking back, I am quite certain that she and Horace (Mr. Shugart) had talked about it the night before and had a plan of getting into downtown, where to park, and what they felt would be a good vantage point for their son and his friends to see the parade. Mrs. Shugart turned off Ross Avenue onto Harwood and headed south into Downtown. This area of Dallas was our old stomping grounds where Ronnie and I spent many days riding our bikes. Mrs. Shugart turned into a parking garage which was on the Northwest corner of Harwood and Main. Interestingly enough, it was cat cornered from the Dallas Court House/Police station where Lee Harvey Oswald would be taken in just a few hours for the President’s murder and eventually killed by Jack Ruby a week and two days later while I sat in church. We got out of the station wagon and headed down to street level. The sun was shining, and I don’t even remember wearing a jacket because it was such a beautiful fall day in Downtown Dallas. We remained on the Northwest corner of Harwood and Main, where we stood at the curb on Harwood , facing East. We were approximately 15 to 20 feet from Main Street which would have been to our right. The parade would be coming from our left; from the North. It was approximately 11:15. We stood and we stood not actually knowing what time the President would come by. It was 11:30, 11:40, 11:50 and now it was noon. The crowds were building and a lot of people that worked in downtown must have been on their lunch hour. The crowds were about 4 to 5 people deep on the sidewalks, but we kept our spot at the curb, sometimes hoping down onto the street. It was about 12:10 and the crowds just kept growing. While standing there waiting, I saw a young guy on a bicycle coming down Harwood in what would have been the direction of the following motorcade. I tried to restrain myself, but I couldn’t resist. Maybe it was my pap paw that came out in me for a second or maybe a guy just trying to be funny in front of his friends. Whatever it was I pointed at the approaching man on the bicycle and shouted, “here comes President Kennedy.” The crowd laughed, my friends laughed and in fact I think the guy on the bike laughed as well. It was now about 12:20 and we were getting hungry and tired of waiting but still holding on to our places at the curb as the crowd continued to ge bigger. About 5 more minutes passed and we could finally hear what sounded like the roar of bus engines in the distance to our left and then we saw a group of Dallas motorcycle cops leading the parade. From that vantage point we could see a couple of blocks up Harwood. We could make out motorcycle cops, one or two limousines and a couple of buses behind them with the press corp, staff and somewhere in all of that was Vice President Lyndon B. Johnson and his wife Lady Bird. (What kind of name is that anyway) I guess they still needed to have old folks not far from the White house. Just a minute or so after 12;20 I could see figures in a shiny, black, convertible, limo. In the front passanger seats were Mrs. Connelly and the Governor of Texas, John Connelly. Directly behind Mr. Connelly and on our side of the Street was the President and next to him in a beautiful pink dress was the First Lady, Jacquelyn Kennedy. I think one reason this spot was chosen for us to stand was that Mr. or Mrs. Shugart realized that the vehicles would have to slow down as they turned from Harwood onto main street. We got to see them for a few seconds more than most people. Not only did they slow down but we saw them as they turned onto main street and proceeded to the west end of Downtown Dallas. When I got home that day, I told my Mother how beautiful Mrs. Kennedy was and how I swear she had looked right at me, I smiled at her, she smiled back at me and we waved at each other. Whether that was fact or wishful thinking it was reality to me that day. It was really a neat feeling at that moment in time to see these two young parents with little kids who were also the President and First Lady of the United States. All perceived politics aside I felt a lot of pride with this man and woman representing our country; us; me. It was now approximately 12:25 and those beautiful peoples' lives as well as our own were only a few minutes away from being forever changed. We applauded, headed for the station wagon, and talked about what we had seen. It was really a great experience. For not having been too excited other than to get out of school for a few hours , it turned out to be a fun and moving event. As we left the parking garage, we headed back toward school as we turned east on Ross Avenue. As we were going down Ross, there were at least 20 police cars that passed us going the opposite direction with lights on and sirens blaring. One of my buddies said, “I bet someone shot Kennedy” and we all laughed; just being stupid. As we got closer to school Mrs. Shugart asked if we wanted to stop and get something to drink. Absolutely!! So, she turned off Ross avenue and made her way south on Beacon and stopped at a convenience store on the left just before Eastside. As we entered the store, the man behind the counter could not contain himself...... “They Shot Kennedy! They’ve killed the President!” We stood there paralyzed for a second. That couldn’t be. We just saw them. In disbelief we headed to the soft drink refrigerators, got our drinks, piled in the station wagon and headed back to school. When we got back to school it was really strange. A lot of the students had not attended the parade. People were crying, wandering the halls, sitting on the stairs all in disbelief. I felt a little guilty. I had seen them less than an hour ago, in person, and could not work up one tear.This couldn’t be real. I went to my drafting class, sat at my drafting table, worked on my drawings while the principal made a few remarks over the PA system and then we walked home. I went to Chuck’s house and spent the night, saw his sister Karen, got up early the next morning and went fishing at Lake Tawakoni with Chuck, Leonard and my Dad. The following morning, my mother woke me up to go to Sunday School and Church. As I got ready I could hear Mrs Brady, our church organist playing the bells from a mile a way. She was playing , “When they ring those golden bells for you and me. “ At Church, Dr Sparkman prayed for the country and for Mrs Kennedy , President Lyndon Johnson and for the healing of the nation. That evening I went to MYF and had a good time and looked forward to Thanksgiving and my Birthday the next Thursday. That weekend was marked by much of the 3 tv stations news time focusing on the funeral preparations and proceedings in Washington D.C. Monday marked the most emotional day as the parade marched through Washington D.C with President Kennedy’s casket as the focal point and Mrs Kennedy at the front of the curb watching him pass by. Her very young son, John John, stood at the curb and saluted the casket as it went by. Her beautiful pink dress, her smile, and generous waves of her hand to me and the crowd were gone forever. I was sad. Thanksgiving and my Birthday were great. It’s like the best birthday dinner ever if you overlook the fact that it was really thanksgiving with a Birthday cake added. But hey, I’ll take it. Fourteen. Life was good. The following Sunday we went to Sunday school and church. By then we were all experts as to what had happened the prior week. Yep, Olswald was the guy. Some guy with commie ties. He was the one alright. Mystery solved. As we walked out of church I saw Ricky Bentley’s dad’s car. What a car. It was a dodge two tone, two door hard top with the words “official pace car” on the side. How cool was that?, writing on your family car. Just about the time I was getting into our car, someone said they just heard on their car radio that some guy named Jack Ruby had just killed Oslwald. Case solved and justice prevailed. Who is Jack Ruby? LBJ? No way. Years later after people who knew too much were found dead or had mysterious car crashes; my dad mentioned that he had been summoned to the triple under pass area to have one of his crews remove a piece of the curb. It was later believed by some to have had a bullet in it. In a documentary , “The Men who Killed Kennedy” there is actual footage of one of my dad’s city of Dallas concrete crews removing that piece of curb a few days after the assassination which is now believed to be in the National Achieves in Washington D.C. It was discovered that a spectator across the street from the grassy knoll was seen with blood on his face. It appeared to be small concrete fragments that flew in the air and hit the man on his cheek. That crazy single bullet. A couple of years after the assassination I had the privilege as a new Eagle Scout to visit with Governor John Connelly in his office in Austin at what was called “Report to the Governor.” It was an honorary visit for all Texas Scouts that had attained the rank of Eagle Scout that prior year. It was a little weird seeing him there and shaking the man's hand who was sitting in Front of President Kennedy the day he was assassinated. A man who had been hit with what would later be referred to as the "magic bullet." It was a real honor and privilege to have my photo taken with him that day.

was a 21 year old working for the City Of Dallas in the Advanced Planning Zoning Department on November 22, 1963 when the Parade for President John F Kennedy and Jacqueline were scheduled at noon to turn onto Main Street from Harwood at the Dallas Municipal Building. During that morning, I went with other City Employees to a cafe on Elm Street at 9:00 AM when leaflets started falling off the top a building that were posters featuring John F Kennedy “Wanted for Treason”. Shortlly before noon, I gathered with other City Employees across Harwood down the south side of Main Street to watch the Parade. When President John F Kennedy went by he was not smiling and I made the comment “He looks like he is going to his funeral”. Jacqueline was smiling brightly and waving. She was beautiful! After that, we went back to City Hall and had lunch. Later there was an announcement on the intercom system that Kennedy was shot and then later that he was dead…. Some people left City Hall immediately, but I couldn’t leave due an appointment. My drafting desk in room 225 was at the window overlooking the entrance ramp into the basement of City Hall. During that appointment, “a police cruiser hit the bump at the basement entrance at such a high speed that I thought it would jump through the window”. We immediately went down to the Police Basement. “Just as we got there, they were pulling Lee Harvey Oswald out of the cruiser. His face was bruised and he looked cocky. We watched them take him down a hall and we left. When I Left City Hall, there was nothing on the street no people, no taxis, no cabs and no buses. I had to walk all the way to my apartment near Love Field.

A moving experience that brought back memories of that awful day. Seeing the perspective from the window to the X’s on the street was amazing

Thank you for preserving and sharing our history.

November 22, 1963: It was a mild, sunny afternoon when my classmates and I returned from recess to our second-grade classroom at Lincoln Elementary in Nanticoke, PA. Our teacher, Mrs. Brown, was visibly shaken as we settled into our seats. She solemnly announced that the President had been shot and that school would be closing early so we could all return home. At that age, I didn’t have a clear emotional reference point to process such heavy news. I stepped outside, found my fifth-grade sister, and together we walked down the street toward home. When we arrived, the television was on. Our mother greeted us with the news that the President had passed away. The rest of the day was consumed by a continuous stream of news coverage. I don’t recall playing outside. It was a bit difficult for a typical second grader like me to fully grasp the gravity of what had happened that day. On Sunday, after lunch, my sister and I went to the living room to watch TV. To our dismay, all three channels were still broadcasting news. This time, we witnessed something unforgettable: Lee Harvey Oswald being escorted by police toward a waiting car. Suddenly, a man in a black hat appeared in the lower corner of the screen, lunging forward and shooting Oswald. Chaos erupted on the television, and my sister and I sat frozen, trying to make sense of what we had just seen. Eventually, we went to the kitchen to tell our parents. They joined us to watch the replays, which seemed endless. Though we all tried to resume our day, I’m sure my parents were burdened with concerns they kept to themselves. That week was saturated with news—the funeral, the analysis, and the collective mourning of a nation. Tumultuous times, to say the least.

My wife and I really enjoyed the exhibits. Puts things into perspective. Very sobering.

I was only 1 month old but my parents had a book all about the Kennedy’s. I read it several times and was I’m very interested in their lives. The museum was very interesting

My memory is that this place is a wonderful piece of history and that I hope it stands the test of time and stays a great part of Texas history and legacy

What a moving story. This should be a memorial for all humanity against violence

A great leader who inspired hope, challenged a nation to dream, and left a legacy of courage and service that endures. SAOUDI.S

Lost weekend. State of shock.

Enjoyed the visit. Clint Hill is my Dad's first cousin.

Enjoyed the visit. Clint Hill is my Dad's first cousin.

I was a senior at Roy Miller high school in Corpus Christi, Tx. I can remember so vividly the most horrible time in America— the assecination of President Kennedy and the the uncertainty that followed the next hour. It was a very sad time for our country. I feel that it was a plot to eliminate him, being that he had his views about our involvement in Vietnam Nam and wanting to bring peace amongst nations. And equality amongst the world. There were others who believed in a world class society and pushed for this even if it meant war, which they felt was needed for the economy and felt that our country would not survive without the turmoil of war economically.

I was 6 years old in 2nd grade in Anaheim, CA and an announcement came over the loudspeaker in our classroom that the President had been shot & we were all going home. My dad had walked to the school to walk me home. He was very sad, & when we got home my mom was crying and did so for several days through the funeral, etc. Very scary time, very sad for Caroline & John John.

I was only a child when President Kennedy was assassinated, but I remember my mother crying.

Born and raised in Northern Virginia, about six miles west of Washington, D.C., I was nine years old at the time of the assassination. I remember the assassination weekend vividly, not just because of our proximity to the funeral, but also because the Kennedy family was particularly revered in my Irish-American family. For this reason, we experienced his death as a very personal loss. Washington was a much smaller and much more parochial place in those days and many of the Kennedy family comings and goings were reported as local events. From my grandparents' house I could see the airfield where presidential helicopters lifted off for the White House. Five months before the assassination, JFK spoke at my uncle's law school graduation, delivering his famous Peace for All Time speech. Only eight months before that speech, we had been terrified by days of Missile Crisis headlines and local newscasts detailing how or house was in the blast zone of a nuclear strike. The assassination was announced to my fourth grade class via a public address announcement just prior to our dismissal from school around 3 pm EST. We were vaguely aware of a disruption in the halls prior to the announcement and class activity had stopped until the announcement came. My teacher was called out of the classroom and returned in tears before the announcement. Except for a young man in my class who saw fit to stand and tastelessly mimic a gunshot wound (yes, I still recall his name), the school and the bus ride home were eerily silent that bright warm afternoon. I got off the bus early and walked most of the way home amid the fallen leaves, attempting to grasp what had just happened. My mother was napping when I arrived home and she had not heard the news. I remember asking her whether this meant that "Eisenhower was now president." Oh, we should have been so fortunate. We turned on the television and, like the rest of America, watched nonstop for the next three days. That night, a news report showed that Air Force One had flown directly over our house on its way the Andrews AFB returning from Dallas. I was in front of the television that Sunday and was the only one in my family who watched live as Jack Ruby shot Oswald. My mother thought that I had gotten confused when I reported that a man had just been shot on live television. "No," she corrected me, "that was on Friday." I led her to the television and together we watched the endless replays of Oswald's murder. The next day, we watched the funeral on television. When the missing man formation few over the cemetery, I ran into our front yard in time to see the jets pass over our house, exiting to the west. Our house was only a few miles away from Hickory Hill and from time to time, we would see members of RFK's family in the local stores. RFK bought many of his clothes from the same mens shop in McLean, Va where I bought mine. Edward Kennedy spoke at my high school on several occasions where I was privileged to meet him. It all furthered our emotional and geographic connection to the Kennedy family. I moved away from Washington as an adult, but in 1998, took my seven year old daughter on a weekend visit to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. That night, she asked me what is was like to grow up in Washington and my thoughts drifted back to these memories. When she asked the inevitable questions about JFK's death and burial place, I suddenly realized that the next day was the 35th anniversary of the assassination. We quickly made a plan to visit Arlington the next morning and we were standing at the JFK gravesite when Senator Kennedy, Ethel Kennedy and Victoria Kennedy appeared and placed flowers on the graves. Senator Kennedy turned and spoke to the crowd briefly, thanking us for remembering, and then disappeared down a path to RFK's grave. I grabbed my daughter and hurried down to the spot where we correctly surmised that the Kennedy family had parked. In a few minutes, they returned to the car, which Vicky and Ethel quickly entered. Kennedy himself lingered for a few minuites, talking to the crowd. He quickly focused on my girl, who, then in the midst of a fascination with Amelia Earhart, was wearing my Navy leather flight jacket. Senator Kennedy then began a conversation about her age, her interests, and what she wanted to do when she grew up. When she told him that she wanted to be a pilot, he quietly responded that his brother, Joe, had been a pilot. It was a very emotional moment in a morning that for me was already emotionally charged. The next day, our local paper ran an AP photo of Senator Kennedy's party visiting the gravesite and, sure enough, there was my daughter watching them. JFK's assassination was the single most impactful event in my life. I adored him as a child, venerated his early sainted memory, adjusted my views when details of his private life emerged, and, in the last 30 years have sorted everything out with an abiding appreciation of a unique, gifted, and historically significant human being, complete with human foibles. In my study, I still keep a photo of him close by and occasionally wonder what it would have been like to have shared cigars with him and my sailing pals. His assassination also became the immutable measuring point in my life. I still mark events and calculate their significance with reference to 11/22/63. I have lived through the waves of speculation and fantasy about assassination conspiracies and, having read most of the historical materials, detest the incessant distortion of events and profiteering that have persuaded so many Americans that a speculative and improbable conspiracy was to blame. I am therefore grateful for the Sixth Floor Museum's stewardship of this history and its fact based curation of these events.

I was 12 years old and attended a Catholic Grade School in Columbus, OH. I recall walking home that day, tearful that Kennedy had been shot. Years later, as a consultant, I worked with a man who had been an active participant on the original Warren Commission. According to him, significant information was refuted and then it “disappeared.” Worrisome….

Thank you Mr president

Tragic Day for our Country. My parents mourned and sought comfort together. Nine months later I was born. I’d like to think it was a positive result of such global tragedy.

The JFK assassination is one of my first memories. I was born in 1958 and remember being at home with my mother when the news came on our old black and white television. I remember my mother sitting down and crying after Walter Cronkite tearfully announced that the president was dead. I share JFKs May 29 birthday and have always felt a connection to him.

I will never forget Walter Cronkite reporting the time of death.

I was in 5th grade @ Sacred Heart Military Academy in Watettown Wisconsinwhen it was announced that President Kennefy had been assassinated. The corp of cadets immediately went to our chapel to pray. 2 days later I & many others were shocked when Jack Ruby murdered Oswald. Some cheered, but years latet doubt about who really committed ‘Murder Most Foul’…I was last here in 1993 attending JFK Conspiracy conference. I returned tiday with many doubts about the official record. I was most impressed with synchronized movies about shooting being shown on 7th floor. Keep an open mind. I thought Case Closed for past 10 years again but not sure anymore. JFK was such an immense leadet & bisionary whose death unfortunately changed history for the worse.

I am Irish and JFK was one of us. All of the houses in Ireland had a picture of JFK and the pope at the time. He made our nation proud and inspired generations of Irish to embrace our nationality and believe we could aspire to greatness even though we were a small and poor country. His legacy will continue for many generations and I hope to see many more with Irish American background to continue to lead for good in America and around the world.

Although I was only seven ( n second grade), I was overwhelmed by the tragedy of our President’s death. I grew up with a strong sense of duty to rise to challenges to help those less fortunate, to strive for advances of our people and work for global peace. I believe the fresh optimism and unsinkable vision of John F. Kennedy is a big part of my belief in what it means to be an American.

Great historical place … nicely Maintained and the movies and pictures give a real account of the tragic incident.

Be kind.

Heart wrenching but very informative and perfectly executed museum!

Excellent exhibition of a legends end in a world when so much was taking place. I loved the clips and art work. In my opinion I feel a hologram would be considered for future tours to make all whom visit feel his presence even more the TV clips. Thank you for an incredible experience from the entire Family.

It was truly interesting and also disheartening to reflect on these events and think about what could have been.

A Crime Revisited He came to this city amid apprehension and applause. But with time, Dallas had come to respect its new champion to the cause. To show this new respect they appeared that day in mass. To welcome the new frontier and its leader, every color and class. Yet on that day the menace to man, the ugly assassin lay in wait. Soon to dash the hopes of millions in his fickle instant of hate. With the plottings of man and the ensuing violence, Dallas was quickly shamed into an embarrassed silence. Helped along by the media and its petulant persecution. It endured the guilty verdict by some vague prosecution. For five decades Dallas has sought forgiveness, never pity. Is that too much to ask for a people and their city? It is time for this metropolis to climb up from its painful descent. To forgive itself as an unfortunate, yet random setting for such a tragic event. The human frailties exposed that dreadful November. Lest we forget, we will always remember…….. “As for the future, faith in our principles we must fully entrust. The acts of a savage few will never indict the good, nor the just.” -Mark E. Avelli

I was in the seventh grade, in Chicago during science class when the loudspeaker in the class broke into the teacher's lecture. The principal said, "The President of the United States has died and school is dismissed for the day. You may go back to your homerooms and gather your things and go home." My parents were staunch republicans who spoke about politics often at home. I remember walking home and thinking, "Kennedy is a democrat so maybe this is not such a horrible thing...." In high school, I learned of Kennedy's friendship with Nikita Khrushchev and the letters they exchanged about world peace. I learned of his wanting to clean up the CIA. I learned of his efforts on behalf of nuclear deterrence and John Fitzgerald Kennedy became a hero of mine. I always felt bad that on the day he died I let my childhood prejudice against democrats negate the true horror of that heinous act.

Born in the 90s, I do not have any direct recollection of John F. Kennedy’s presidency or assassination. Instead I was introduced to the life and story of JFK through a set of encyclopedias gifted to me as a kid. I recall being confused and taken aback by the tumultuous and precarious situations that plagued the 1960s - the rigid dichotomy between capitalism and communism, the aftermath of WWII, and the underlying (ongoing) domestic racial struggle. It was Kennedy’s interaction with Russian leader Nikita Khrushchev that ultimately sparked my interest in politics and lead me to pursue this field of study in college. I was mesmerized by JFK’s ability to avoid nuclear war and address the American people. Though now deceased, I believe JFK’s memory continues to influence both foreign policy and a wave of interest in politics among the youth, as it did for me.

I was in 7th grade at the time. We just went back to school after lunch on a rainy Friday afternoon. Sister had turned the TV on so we could watch the news--as she did every day. We were getting ready to start an art project. Walter Cronkite just said the President had just been shot. Sister asked us to put down our crayons and she led us in saying the Rosary. She started to cry when the news came over the TV saying the President died. We continued to pray. I remember getting out early that day. My mom met me @ school. We walked home discussing the sad news. Father wore black vestments in church the following Sunday instead of the usual green at that time of year.

Our English teacher at North Central High School in Indianapolis, Miss Ruth Bertsch, asked the class to read an Edgar Allen Poe story aloud. The first student in the first row read a paragraph and then the student behind her picked up the story, and so on. Several paragraphs into the reading another teacher opened the classroom door and asked Miss Bertsch to step out into the hallway. Miss Bertsch told the class to continue reading and left. As the reading reached the boy seated next to me, the classroom public address speaker popped on, playing eerie music. The kids in the class thought it was humorous since it complimented our Poe reading. The music continued as Miss Bertsch came back in and walked to the front of the room. "I have to tell you," she said, "the President has been shot." The classroom fell silent. In my mind, I imagined something like the McKinley shooting: a guy walking up to President Kennedy and shooting him at close range in the chest or abdomen. I was, at this time, unaware there had been a motorcade. For some reason, I figured the President was just wounded. McKinley didn't survive his shooting but this was 1963; we had great doctors, great medicine and surely they would do anything to care for the President of the United States. The eerie music that filled the room became a news report. It had a lot of confusion, a lot of talk and not much information. The only significant facts were that President Kennedy had been riding in a motorcade, was shot, taken to the hospital and there was no word from the doctors there. There was still hope – things would be OK. The bell rang and we all filed out. I walked the silent halls to my history class. Loren Comstock, the teacher, was a competitive bodybuilder who had won the 1958 Mr. Indiana contest. As the students settled into their seats he sat on the corner of his desk and said, "Let's just listen. However it turns out, this is history." The news reports continued to be confusing and did not provide a lot of information. Hope and despair ebbed and flowed. Then a reporter came on with this: "Two priests who came to the hospital have come back out. They said they administered Last Rights to President Kennedy and also said the President is dead." That was the moment I knew. It wasn't official but I knew the priests wouldn't lie. Only the smallest fading spark of hope remained. It was still a long and excruciating wait for the official word. Finally, it came. My mind was numb and swimming in disbelief that such a thing could happen in our country. I remember very little about the rest of the school day. I heard someone say the band members had been practicing in a room that did not have a PA system. They apparently came out of the room laughing, joking and tooting their horns as others questioned their antics until they learned the band students didn't know what was going on. The bus ride home was long and quiet. That evening my family sat around the television watching Air Force One return to Washington. I belonged to a slot car racing club that met on Friday nights. I called another member, found out guys were showing up, so I decided to go. I thought it might help to get away from the somber events of the day. It didn't. Members just sat around and talked about their experiences earlier that day. We tried to do a little work on the cars but didn't get much done. We called off the races and I went home. Saturday was a blur of TV and other activities around the house. I went shopping with my mother and remember being at a strip-mall with news about the events surrounding the assassination playing on speakers outside. Sunday, I went with my parents and brother to my aunt and uncle's place about 40 miles north of our home. While we were riding up there, the news bulletin came on the radio that Lee Harvey Oswald had been shot. Again, there was no word of his condition but it wasn't long before we heard that he also had died. A weekend of unreal events had just become more bizzare. They canceled school on Monday and I watched the events leading up to the funeral and the funeral itself. As clear today in my mind as it was then: ghostly black and white images of the procession, the flyover, the prayers, folding of the flag, the presentation to the frail Mrs. Kennedy standing next to Bobby and the lighting of the eternal flame. Most notably, I remember the bugler playing taps flubbing a note in the piece. Later news reports said he had done it on purpose as a tribute to the fallen President. I heard later this is not the case but that some buglers since have done the same thing as a tradition. Tuesday it was back to school. Again, things were a blur. I don't remember much in the aftermath. One thing, we were in a new high school, the first year it had been opened. The gymnasium was not yet completed so we held all the basketball games in the old school. I can remember it being decorated in black mourning crepe. The famed Zapruder film was not available right away. It was only as Life Magazine published the frames of the film in bits and pieces and, later, as the film itself came out that people learned how grisly the scene was and, frankly, how hopeless it was the President could have survived. November 22, 1963, stands out in my memory more so than any other day: more than the Challenger or Columbia disasters, more than a string of tragedies since. Only September 11, 2001 comes close in terms of intensity, a date that those younger than I am can relate to like the Kennedy assassination as that instant when an entire nation of people knew exactly where they were and what they were doing at that single moment in time. Steven L. Harrison Kearney, Missouri Epilog: Mr. Comstock went on to become an Indianapolis attorney, still living in 2020. Miss Bertsch (Ruth E. Bertsch Stilwell) passed away in 2012 at the age of 93.

I was ten year's old at the time of the assasination i can vividely recal having been down in ft laurdale fl just five months before the assasination july august but i do not recall seeing anything really weird down their that summer the world was a vry differnt place before the assassination you could still trust people you could walk around the strrets at night with out hardly any real fear at all their just was no doubt about thing's and stuff! but that all changed after 11-22-63 ! i came back up aher afyer that long ago summeer visiting my grandmother in ft ladurdale and we were in school that day when the principle came around to the rooms and told us what has happened i do not recal;ll getting out of school but i do still do rember on the 24th sunday morning sitting in my living room at our frist house here in jefferson city mo it was in the morning and we were getting ready to go to the church when all of the sudden it came ion live oswald was gunned down in the police station i was sitting alone watching the tv and had tio run into the kitchen and tell everyone to come and see this on tv live oswald being shot dead on live tv it was just horrible i just could not really belive thiis was really happening i still remeber thinking to myself what the hell is going on here it still stick's in my mind all of the events of that long ago days when america changed forever 56 years ago now but it seem's llike only yesterday!

I was a junior at Texas Tech and my friends and I were enjoying our daily passion for playing ping pong at the Baptist Student Union which was just off the campus of the school. As we were getting ready to leave that day, Nov. 21, 1963, one of my friends said, "Kennedy will be in Dallas tomorrow." At that, I said, "He's liable to get shot when he goes to Dallas." The next day, Nov. 22, I had just finished one of my late morning classes and drove home for lunch. The phone rang and it was my friend to whom I'd made the remark. He told me that Kennedy had been shot in Dalla. My first reaction was to think he was kidding, having remembered my remark the previous day. I turned on the TV and found it to be true. He asked me if I wanted to play ping pong. I said, "Yes," and we did. We could hear church bells ringing as we did. The next day was Saturday and classes at Texas Tech were not canceled. As we sat in our sociology class, we heard a cannon's being fired periodically on campus by the ROTC, to note the somberness of the day. The teacher saw our lack of participation in the discussion and remarked on our silence. There were no grief counselors in any school; if any student needed such, his or her parents were capable of dealing with their own children.

It was a couple of weeks before my 10th birthday. I was getting ready for bed at 7:00 pm with my brothers and sisters when we heard our Mother crying. We went downstairs to find our Mother in tears and our Father watching the news. He told us President Kennedy had been shot. I wasn't really aware of who Kennedy was but the effect his death had on my Mother especially has always stayed with me.

I was in kindergarten in Butler, New Jersey in 1963. I was very aware of who President Kennedy was from watching the television, looking through newspapers and Life magazines around the house, and simply hearing about him from others. At the end of school on November 22, I was on the bus riding home when we stopped at the corner of the high school that my brothers Ken and Doug attended. I had heard nothing of the assassination up until that point; perhaps the school teachers were feeling that kindergartners would best hear the news from parents. The driver opened the door as a school crossing guard approached the bus asking if she had heard about Kennedy being shot. Unfortunately, my five-year-old ears mistakenly picked up that Kenny was shot; my bother! For the remaining mile to my home, I was very concerned about my brother Kenny getting shot in school. Upon arriving at home, however, my entire family, including Kenny, was gathered around the television. I was relieved that Kenny was fine, but that was the same moment when I learned the terrible news that President Kennedy was dead. I didn't know what to think. I loved the president! I couldn't believe that someone would shoot him. It was a terrible, unfamiliar emotion that I felt. I was especially saddened for John John and Caroline Kennedy not having a dad anymore. Naturally we watched the news throughout the weekend and following week. As I saw Robert and Ted Kennedy walking beside Jackie during the funeral, I realized that they both resembled the President and thought that perhaps one of them could replace him. Well, I guess I wasn't the only one who believed that. But, when June of 1968 came, once again we all felt a horrible loss and pain for the Kennedy family.

My mother held my hand. We washed on TV President John F. Kennedy get shot

I was home from school due to an asthma attack that I had suffered the night before. I was in the living room with my mother on the couch in my flannel pajamas and covered with my great-grandmother's afgan to keep me warm. We had the television on and my mother was doing her ironing. All of a sudden, she started to get real upset, and I was saying Mommy, Mommy what's wrong? A few years ago, I was talking with my mother and I told her about this recollection. I then asked her if this was the day that President Kennedy was killed. She said yes and was blown away, because I was five years old at the time. President Kennedy was an awesome man, and this country lost so much when he died. I had the opportunity to go the the 6th Floor Museum in 2013 and walking the grounds where he was killed is hallowed ground! Mr. President, I will never forget you, and you and Mrs, Kennedy are my hero's

I was 5 years old that day. I had waived to President Kennedy as the motorcade headed towards downtown. My mom and I stood along the road on Cedar Springs after dropping my brother off at Pilot School for the Deaf. When we got home, my mother screamed and when I asked what happened she said, "They shot the president!" It stuck in my memory because I had just seen him.

I was born 19 years after the assassination of JFK. The fact that I have studied it at School and it continues to be spoken about on television and written about in hundreds of publications demonstrates just how significant this terrible event was. You only have to read what people have written within this Memory Book, to see what a positive influence JFK had on people all over the World. You look at the Worlds Leaders of today and wonder what impact Leaders like JFK and Bobby (potentially) would have had...the World needs people like them.

Hello Dealey Plaza, The JFK assassination has and still follows me to this day. November 22nd is my BIRTHDAY and I was born and raised right here in North Texas, actually in 1954, at Parkland Hospital. I was 8 years old and was turning 9 that day, I was in school, my mom was working in a hotel downtown Dallas as a sous chef. We were planning a birthday celebration that day and I was so excited and looking forward to my birthday 'party'. I recall it was toward the end of the school day and there was this announcement on the intercom and my teacher and ALL the teachers and adults began to cry and I wanted to know WHY! I did not know what an assassination was! I did NOT understand what President Kennedy meant to the community, especially the Black community. Suddenly it was like a dark cloud had come over the city of Dallas. There was no party. Growing up here in Dallas for many years, my birthday became a National Day of mourning. Once I became of age, I would go out of town to find joy and to celebrate my birthday. My name is Victoria Smith and I am now 64 years old as of 11/22/2108. Of course, now I understand the hopes and dreams of a nation died that day.

I was in school Grade 5 in class following afternoon recess. Our teacher came into the room crying and told us President Kennedy had been shot and we could all go home. I'd never seen a teacher cry before. When I got home my parents were watching it on TV. Oswald was shot Sunday, it was my birthday.

I was in my 8th grade history class when our teacher told us to all go home, the President was shot. I went home and from then on I never left my TV set and to this day at 69 I am still reading and watching movies about it. To this day I do not believe Oswald was the shooter, he was set-up.

I was in afternoon Kindergarten in Mrs. Lane's class at West Broad St School when the principal made an announcement over the intercom. I didn't understand what was going on other than something very bad had happened to our president. Mrs. Lane began weeping and we were sent home early. When I got home my mom was sitting in front of the TV weeping. I visited Sixth Floor Museum in 1996 and it was very moving. This week I am traveling to Dallas for the Ohio State - TCU football game with my 28 yr old son. I plan on visiting the museum with him.

I was 18, freshman at Ohio State Univ., living in an old dorm, with 1 TV in the basement. We were the first baby boomers going to college, life felt as if everything was in front of us. I was thrilled with President Kennedy, he was young and seemed so forward looking. I was in my dorm room and suddenly heard other girls screaming and running in the hallway. Dorm rooms were very crowded in those days, 2 twin beds having been replaced with bunk beds to absorb the baby boomers and new dorms being built. I went into the hallway and asked why everyone was screaming, then I just stood there, like the earth had stopped moving. Someone shouted to go to the TV, and we were all huddled around it. It felt as if I had stayed there throughout the next few days, even tho’ that was not possible. Then I watched Jack Ruby shoot Oswald. Then I knew that the world had gone mad. I could not understand what was happening, now the future seemed to collapse. When I was in Grapevine, TX this past week with family, I made it to the Museum on 9/4. There were lots of people but not so many that one could not see the placards. I cried through half of the time I was there. I am crying as I write this. How could this have happened? Youth and hope was replaced with chaos.

During the President's visit to Dallas, as a four year old, we enthusiastically awaited to hear all about the field trip to town to see President Kennedy. Munger Avenue Baptist Church Daycare took the kindergarten classes to go see the President. They returned all hysterical by saying "the President has been shot". I'm not certain whether or not they actually caught a glimpse of him or not.

We heard on the radio as we were on the road to Paducah, Kentucky from Memphis, Tennessee. We pulled to the shoulder of the road and wept, as did most everyone on the highway with us. The most shocking news I had ever heard.

It was an unusually warm Fall day in New York City back on November 22,1963. So warm in fact that our gym class went outside and played softball that Friday morning. Exactly 4 weeks shy of my 13th birthday, I remember hitting a home run over the handball court that morning. Buoyed by my home-run, looking forward to the weekend and a short Thanksgiving week ahead I was in good spirts entering my 1:00 pm (EST) English class. So bored and distracted I was that I started flicking “spitballs” at my friend Gary. He fired them back and our antics earned both of us a trip to serve detention (stay after school) by our English teacher Mr. LaRocca. The 7th period bell rung at 2:00 pm (EST) and it was off to our last class called “Hygiene” before I had to go back and “serve my detention time.” Exiting the door into the hallway of JHS 16 a girl named Ida runs up to Mr. LaRoccca and shouts: “the President has been shot.” Like the rest of us we thought it was some kind of a hoax. We went on to Mr. Appel’s “Hygiene” class and all the students were all unusually quiet. Moments later a teacher’s assistant came in crying: “the President is dead, she sobbed.” Mr. Appel flung his chalk backwards across the classroom in anger. A classmate Charles Stewart began sobbing and shouting: “Whoever did this has no God; has no church...” The bell rang for early dismissal and Gary and I went back to serve our detention time but got a reprieve from a heartbroken Mr. LaRocca: “Get out of here go home he scolded us.” Walked home and my mother was out raking leaves. I gave here the bad news the President was dead and she sighed “Oh, so that’s what he was talking about…” She told me an old Italian neighbor of ours wanted to inform my mother of the death of our beloved President. In broken English it came out sounding like this: “Mrs. Ghinelli, the President was a killed in a taxi.” Mr. Fanizzi, my mother said, “the president doesn’t ride in a taxi.” No, no, he said “he was killed in the state of a taxi.” My mother just shrugged it off not getting by “taxi” he meant Texas. I had to deliver the bad news to my mother and now it all made sense to her President Kennedy was dead. We were riveted to our tiny black and white TV that weekend; no commercials, no programming just wall-to-wall news coverage. A sad time for sure that weekend. It was like someone threw a switch that weekend and ushered in a new violent and cynical America. Everything changed that weekend and the America that I knew was now “gone with the wind.”

I am a big JFK fan and love reading about the assassination. It was an awesome experience to walk the museum and the plaza where a big piece of this country's history took place. Forever in our hearts and minds.....

வாழ்க்கையில் சில நேரங்களில் நாம் நினைத்து பார்க்காத சில சம்பவங்கள் நடக்கும் போது ஒருவித மன நிறைவு இருக்கும். என் 11 வது வயதில் 1963 வருடம் நவம்பர் 23 அன்று தினத்தந்தி நாளிதழில் அமெரிக்க ஜனாதிபதி கென னடி சுட்டுக்கொல்லப்பட்டார் என்றும், டெக்சாஸ் மாவட்ட டல்லஸ் நகரத்தில் டல்லஸ் புக் டெப்பாசிடரி வளாகத்தின் 6 வது மாடியிலிருந்து சுடப்பட்டார் என்பதும் என் மனதில் பதிந்த வருந்ததக்க நிகழ்ச்சி. அந்த இடத்தை Dallas book depository யின் 6வது மாடியின் மூலையின் ஜன்னல் வழியாகவும்,அந்த நிகழ்வின் புகைபடங்களையும், வீடியோக்காட்சிகளையும் இன்று 04/03/2017 பார்த்து மனதில் நெருடலுடன் இந்த நிகழ்வை தெரிவிக்கிறேன்.

I really enjoyed how there Is so much info on what exactly happened the day the president got shot.

So like any student I was in middle school we was in the middle of a quiz it was quite until the principal came my teacher went out side to talk to him. When she came back I saw she was crying, I loved the President in that time and i still do but when out teacher told us about the President was Killed the students started to cry and me we was sent back home early. when I got home my grandma was crying and my parents. Today I still have a newspaper that I picked up in 1963.

I was 2, my grandma held me we heard the news of the President I grandma was shocked and she told "Never but never in your life to forget this day until this day" and every time I think I always remember what she told me.

I was 9 years old in third grade in K.P. Silberg grade school and we were in the middle of a 10 question spelling test. Suddenly the door opened and the 7th and 8th grade teacher said "the President has been shot!" We didn't know what was really going on but shortly the entire school went down to the gym and the television was set up on the stage at one end of it and we watched coverage of this traumatic event. We were stunned as were the adults around us. One girl was crying and said it was her birthday and she would always remember her birthday as the day the President was shot. We had watched coverage of the President's inauguration just a few short years before. I'll remember this day as long as I live.

I was 5 years old on 11/22/63. My aunt was babysitting me. I remember being in a parking lot of a school and my two older cousins getting in. They were crying. I turned to my aunt and asked her why. She told me that "Someone killed our president." I have many memories of that weekend. That Sunday morning, we got home from mass. I was sitting on my Mom's braided rug and turned on the television. Disappointed at not seeing anything but coverage from Washington and Dallas, I was amazed and scared when I saw Ruby shoot Oswald. I turned to look at Mom at that instant. She was talking on the telephone and dropped the phone to the floor. All these years later, I am reminded every day of that weekend. You see, I teach at the school where I was when I found out. I park in the same lot that we were sitting in. My classroom is next to a fire escape where Kennedy gave a speech while running for office in 1960.

I was in third grade and clearly remember the Principle coming into the room and whispering something into our teachers ear. The teacher immediately groaned and started crying. She told us that President Kennedy had been shot. A short time later the principle came back and announced that President Kennedy had died. When I came home my mother asked how the day went and I told her that Kennedy had died. She got mad and told me never to tell bad stories like that. I said go listen to the radio and she learned about Dallas. We, like everyone in the world it seems, did not turn off their tv sets for the next four days. I don't think the events in Dallas can really be explained to anyone not alive at the time. They simply do not have the reference of living in a world before November 22, 1963. The innocence, the belief in government, the idealism that things really could get better if you worked hard....

I was 5 years old. I don't have any recollection of what happened at school that day, and how we were sent home. I do remember though that weekend with the wall to wall coverage on the television. Lots of people crying, very sad!!

GOD BLESS AMERICAN AND THOSE WHO DONT UNDERSTAND THE TRUE AMERICAN VALUE AND ETHICS. IT'S NOT BLACK AND WHITE IT'S RIGHT AND WRONG. TRUE AMERICAN!

Like so many, I was in elementary school, the second grade on that fateful day. I remember some type of commotion in the hallway, of teachers crying and small transistor radios being used. Out second grade teacher, who was a stern disciplinarian, was clearly upset and crying. I remember that she walked to the chalkboard and wrote, "the President is shot". School shortly ended on that sad Friday afternoon. Over the weekend, I went to my grandmother's home. She took the local evening newspaper and wrote these words, "KEEP THIS NEWSPAPER" and placed it into my hands to take home. Somehow she knew I'd be remembering President Kennedy over 50 years later. I still have that newspaper and each time I look at those words, I am reminded of President Kennedy's legacy. I finally made it to the Sixth Floor Museum in July 2015. It was as if I owed my second grade teacher, my grandmother, and myself a thank you, that one day I would visit to the location where President Kennedy's earthly life ended but his memory lives on. We will never forget him.

I was in the 1st grade and attended a Catholic primary school. Our teacher came in and told us about what had happened-she told us all to get on our knees and she directed the Lord's prayer X 3. We were then sent home an hour early and I came home and witnessed my mother crying while watching the CBS coverage with Walter Cronkite--the memory of this is as vivid now and it was 53 years ago

I had just turned 4 years old the week before. This is the first memory that I can recall. I remember tugging at my mothers apron as she walked to the front door to greet my father who was coming home from work. I saw my father with tears in his eyes. They hugged each other and I heard them both cry. The next 4 days I remember sitting on my fathers lap and watching the TV not really knowing what was going on. Even now when I think about that day it brings a tear to my eye.

I was in 1st grade, we got sent home early when the news came out. My older sister was crying and I was teasing her loudly all the way home that she didn't even know why she was crying, just doing it because the teachers were. I had no clue myself, but my father heard me coming down the street and was very angry at me for teasing her. He worked graveyard shift at the shipyard and was home and awake, and was upset by the news. He made me watch the whole 3 days on TV of the funeral, et al. I remember it had a big effect on me and I came to understand the enormity of the event. In 1995 I took my wife and 2 children to Dallas and visited Dealey Plaza and the book depository museum. I was brought to tears again after so many years, as were many of the other patrons. My wife couldn't understand why everyone was upset, but she was born in 1972 and had no recollection of it. Still one of the saddest things I've ever seen.....

I was sitting watching the TV with my Mum, Dad and Sisters I was 16 years old and remember the shock and sadness we all felt when it was announced on the Newsflash that President kennedy had been Shot. It still brings a lump to my throat even now, 53 years later. He was a great world leader and had stopped Kruschev from starting world war III.

I was in 3rd grade in El Paso Texas and someone told me in the bathroom that the president has been shot. I went to out classroom and told the teacher. Almost immediately someone from the schools admin office came in confirmed what I said we were to go home for the rest of the afternoon. We lived across the street from a park in a republican enclave. We kids were all gathered around a tree and the little republican kids were jumping up with joy claiming, “We won, we won. President Kennedy is dead.” Later I had moved away and was I in high school when a friend came by and was with one of those kids from the park. One of the things he told me was how sorry and ashamed he was of himself of what he has said and done in the park that day many years and many miles away.

I was in sixth grade. I will never forget a knock came at the door. Mrs Moulis went out in the hallway. When she came back in there were tears rolling down her cheeks. I don't think I fully understood the impact. But I knew it was something real bad and something real wrong. Everybody and everything just got eerie quiet. I went home to the same thing. Just a tremendous silence. I think it affected my brother [a year older]. He had been collecting the picture cards that came with gum. Even at a young age I knew how much people loved JFK.

I was 3, my grandmother held me as we watched the funeral. She told me never to forget what I saw. To this day, I hold those times as my first memories, and I have not forgotten.