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Tuesday, November 22, 2005

42 years ago today, I was sitting in my afternoon kindergarten class waiting for the final ten minutes before the bell would ring and we could go to the bus. At that moment, a "patrol boy" (an eighth grader with an orange reflector stripe who directed traffic in front of the school) ran in to our class and whispered something into the ear of Mrs. Koplow, our teacher.

She gasped and started crying; catching herself, and realizing that 25 or so kids were now staring her down, she said, "I'm afraid our president has died, children."

Now, I found this more interesting than shocking; after all I turned 6 about three weeks before and I had taught myself to read by memorizing a list of the presidents. I remember turning to the kid next to me and saying, "that means Johnson's President now!" He didn't care.

I got to my bus (Gary, IN used public buses leased to the schools instead of yellow buses) and I got to talking with the bus driver, who was as dumbstruck as the rest of America.

A couple of hours after I got home, my dad showed up from work. His birthday was November 23. I remember him saying to my mom, "helluva way to have to celebrate my birthday."

It was a Friday; so I spent the weekend glued to the TV set.

That Sunday, I was in our basement, watching the coverage of transporting Oswald from one place to another, when Jack Ruby shot him. I ran upstairs and told my dad what I had seen, and understandably, he thought I was pulling his leg.

But I guess I looked too serious to have been joking.

I remember everybody stayed home for Kennedy's funeral.

Then, three months later, the Beatles showed up on Sullivan. And the country got happy again. Except Huntley and Brinkley kept mentioning this "Vietnam" place.
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I had to go home early today; felt sick as a dog. I'm better now, I think.

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I played an open mic at Aunt Chilada's on Sunday night. Being the only contestant for the first hour I got to play almost a whole set! They liked me.

TT

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