November 22, 1963

-by Doug Kahn

I was in the sixth grade in Washington, D.C. We were on an outdoor basketball court, after Ben W. Murch Elementary let out for the day, and someone said 'Kennedy got shot.' We didn't believe it, but also we really did. No one would say that if it weren't true. One of the kids said 'good riddance' (we figured it must have come from his dad), but I don't remember it having any emotional impact, the blood pounding in my head was so loud.

I went over to my friend's house and we watched tv. I remember the reports from Parkland Memorial Hospital, and the image of the hospital from the road leading in. I'm sure I'll never forget that image.

On Monday I looked down at the funeral procession from an office building along the route of the funeral, in the office of a family friend.

I had been the Junior Red Cross representative from my school, and I remember having given a short speech (from 3x5 index cards, I can see the index cards) at a school assembly that fall. All the representatives from D.C. schools were going to go to an event at the White House, and I remember wondering how cold it would feel sitting in temporary bleachers outside. That never happened.

I'm very sure of the memories up until the moment the tv news reporter said "President Kennedy has been declared dead." He could have used different words; I'm not sure. The memories after that happened to some other person.