It was 44 years ago almost to the minute that John F. Kennedy was killed in Dallas. It happened at 12:30 p.m. Central Standard Time, which was 1:30 p,m. Eastern. I was sitting in social studies class at Fayetteville Senior High School (now called Terry Sanford High School) in Fayetteville, NC. Our class was discussing race relations and civil rights. Remember, this was 1963 in the South.
Our teacher, Miss Fisher, was a civil rights liberal, as were my twin sister and me (we were Army brats who went to school with blacks overseas but not when we returned to the States to a Southern military base). During discussions that fall we had been called “nigger lovers” by some of our classmates during class discussion for supporting integration. Yes, times have changed.
Anyway, at some point later, the intercom crackled and our principal said he had an important announcement. One of our classmates, the most virulent anti-integration, Kennedy-hating in the class, said (and this is the God’s truth), “The president’s been killed!” He said it as a joke, a hopeful prophecy on his part, chuckling. A few seconds later the principal announced that Kennedy had been shot in Dallas and that was all he knew.
The kid went white as a sheet. He was a jerk making a stupid 11th-grade joke, but when it turned out to be true, he was as shocked as the rest of us. The rest of the class turned and glared at him as he tried to recover whatever dignity a racist can muster.
Anyway, you know the rest of the story: Ruby shooting Oswald, followed by the funeral cortege, John John saluting, and the eternal flame. A lot changed that week.
Note: It was about 1:35 when I began writing this post. Our blog time stamp is an hour ahead.
