The Day the President was Shot
It took me fifty years to realize that the president was shot on my grandma's birthday. It must have had some awful impact on her, even though she never mentioned it to me. That one event impacted every living American, and a huge number of other people throughout the world. Republican or Democrat, young or old, male or female, whatever their circumstances, anyone who was five years old or more can tell you where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. Just ask them!
I remember that day well. It was a crisp, sunny, fall day in Norfolk, Nebraska. Dan and I had gone home for lunch, as usual, since Lincoln Elementary School didn't have a hot lunch program. We walked back to school shortly before one o'clock. Our teachers met us outside the front door of the school, and told us the news, that the president had been shot. Then, they sent us all back home again. Dan and I ran all the way home to shout the horrifying news to Mom and Dad. I don't think we returned to school for several days, until after the president's funeral.
Ever since I was a young child, I have been aware that I was born on the ninetieth anniversary of Lincoln's assassination, but it happened so far in the past that it didn't spoil any birthdays for me. However, President Kennedy's assassination was different. I'm sure that my grandma's birthday was ruined that year, and maybe for several subsequent years as well.
The whole nation was aghast. For the first time ever, we saw the historic events unfold, over and over again, on television. We sat, spellbound, as we watched the grainy black and white newscast of the president's car driving slowly through the streets of Dallas. We gazed in horror when he was shot. We agonized with the First Lady as we saw her reach out to a secret service agent for help. Bewildered, we listened to the reporters speculate about who did it and why. We watched in trepidation as Vice President Lyndon Johnson was sworn in as President. We sat through the somber funeral procession. We cried as John John saluted his father's casket. We mourned with Jackie. For a brief time, politics were cast aside. The whole nation grieved.
I remember that day well. It was a crisp, sunny, fall day in Norfolk, Nebraska. Dan and I had gone home for lunch, as usual, since Lincoln Elementary School didn't have a hot lunch program. We walked back to school shortly before one o'clock. Our teachers met us outside the front door of the school, and told us the news, that the president had been shot. Then, they sent us all back home again. Dan and I ran all the way home to shout the horrifying news to Mom and Dad. I don't think we returned to school for several days, until after the president's funeral.
Ever since I was a young child, I have been aware that I was born on the ninetieth anniversary of Lincoln's assassination, but it happened so far in the past that it didn't spoil any birthdays for me. However, President Kennedy's assassination was different. I'm sure that my grandma's birthday was ruined that year, and maybe for several subsequent years as well.
The whole nation was aghast. For the first time ever, we saw the historic events unfold, over and over again, on television. We sat, spellbound, as we watched the grainy black and white newscast of the president's car driving slowly through the streets of Dallas. We gazed in horror when he was shot. We agonized with the First Lady as we saw her reach out to a secret service agent for help. Bewildered, we listened to the reporters speculate about who did it and why. We watched in trepidation as Vice President Lyndon Johnson was sworn in as President. We sat through the somber funeral procession. We cried as John John saluted his father's casket. We mourned with Jackie. For a brief time, politics were cast aside. The whole nation grieved.
It happens to every generation. Some sort of catastrophe claims our innocence. For some, it was the horror of war. For others, it was the explosion of the space shuttle on live TV, or some senseless act of terrorism, or the actions of a crazy shooter. We can't escape it. Especially now, through the marvels of modern media, we just can't escape it.
It's nothing new, though. Since Cain killed his brother, Abel, people have been doing awful things to one another. That's why God sent Jesus--to pay the penalty for all of the horrors caused by sin. So, even when our world seems to be falling apart, when life seems hopeless, horrifying, unthinkable, we have hope in the one called Jesus.
Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD. Psalm 31: 24
It's nothing new, though. Since Cain killed his brother, Abel, people have been doing awful things to one another. That's why God sent Jesus--to pay the penalty for all of the horrors caused by sin. So, even when our world seems to be falling apart, when life seems hopeless, horrifying, unthinkable, we have hope in the one called Jesus.
Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD. Psalm 31: 24
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