WHERE I WAS WHEN JOHN F. KENNEDY WAS SHOT

November 22, 1963 had started out as a typical day at Amity Junior High School in Orange, CT for me – and an exciting and scary one for me since I was schedule to do something at the end of the school day that I had never done before. I was running for Vice President of the student council, which meant I had to do a speech. . I really had zero chance: I was not well-known, I have moved to Woodbridge, CT from New Haven CT one year ago. My sister Nona gave me this bit: “Many of you don’t know me. I’m just an ordinary kid. I like girls, elephant jokes, pizza pies.”

The only time I had been onstage before people had been in a play at a synagogue where I had one line that I had practiced over and over for hours. “Mmmmm these latkes are good!” And then, the summer before, in a big role at a play at Camp Laurel, which triggered a passion for performing.

But when it came my turn to give my speech before a packed auditorium it felt like I was before a firing squad. So I did the speech, got modest applause, and sat down still totally into my stressed-out feelings. I was totally into my thoughts for the duration of the program.

A teacher got up to the microphone at the end and said something. There was a short collective gasp. I hadn’t heard what the teacher said I was too bogged down with doing a short speech.

I then saw kids and teachers walking out of the auditorium, unusually quiet. Everyone looked stressed and grief stricken or shocked.

I went up to my math teacher Mr. Doyle.

“Did something happen? I didn’t hear what the teacher said.”

“Yes. The President has been shot.”

“Did he die?”

He looked at me and sadly and said “Yes. He’s dead.”

I was floored. I was in a state of disbelief. Like many young people at the time I absolutely adored JFK and my parents both voted for him. I had watched the most famous Kennedy-Nixon debate live.

The school bus usually played local rock stations but this afternoon, it was all news.

I was going to stay over for the night at a friend’s house. We sat and watched news coverage live. I watched the coffin being taken out of Air Force One. Now-President Lyndon Johnson. I watched all of the coverage for hours.

Watching the coverage changed my life. I because enormously interested in politics. I became almost obsessed with it with it. I watched the news. I watched the Sunday morning interview shows. I read every magazine, book and newspaper I could find.

And on every November 30 I think of the President I idolized so much and relive seeing the teachers and students in shock leaving the auditorium.

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