Little did he know that seconds later he would be entering eternity.
Forty-seven years ago today, JFK was assassinated in Dallas by a lone gunman named Lee Harvey Oswald. Sorry, I don't buy the conspiracy theory nonsense (Click here: Riddleblog - The Latest Post - Oswald Did It, Acting Alone . ..).
I'll never forget it. This was one of the most formative events of my childhood. I was at school (it was a Friday morning) and our principal rushed into the classroom, whispered something to the teacher, who then visibly gasped while fighting back tears. That's something an elementary-age school kid never forgets.
Once the clunky old TV monitor was set-up in front of the classroom, we watched the "live" news on NBC. In those days, "live news" amounted to all the network anchors chain-smoking on camera while they "reported" the latest news coming in by telephone from reporters in the field. There were no satellite hook-ups, and no real "live" news coverage except that reported via telephone. News stories, like this one, were shot on film, taken to the nearest TV station and then broadcast. When it became clear that this was a national tragedy, and there were fears that this may have been some sort of first strike by the USSR (or even Cuba), we were all sent home.
My family were conservative, Orange County republicans, and staunch evangelical Protestants. My dad (who had been an FBI agent during WWII) disliked JFK immensely. JFK was a papist, his father (Joe Kennedy) "was a crook," and JFK was getting us into a war (the first American "advisers" were on their way to Vietnam--including one of my dad's best friends who had been in the OSS and was in this new organization called the CIA).
But that Friday evening, November 22, 1963, my dad was grief stricken. "JFK was our president," he said. "This was an attack upon America." I'll never forget it.
In a great irony, JFK, C.S. Lewis, and Aldous Huxley, all died the same day--Friday, November 22, 1963.