Defining Moments.... Remembering JFK - Nov. 22/1963 and 9/11

As Nov. 22 marks my mother's birthday, reposting one of my most popular blog posts.

November 22, 1963.

 I was 4 1/2 years old. 

That day, my mother turned 40, and the president of the United States was murdered.

 It's my earliest memory.

 There was a gathering of my parents' friends at our home that weekend, and I recall wondering why the guests  at a birthday party appeared so sad. I remember looking up at my mother as she prepared food for her guests and just asking, "Why?"

 Through her tears, she explained the situation in Dallas, and that the president of the United States was dead.

  I will never forget that moment, and that time in our family's life. We grieved.

 Early Tuesday morning, as my soon-to-be-13-year-old son and I watched with disbelief the events unfolding in New York and Washington, I remembered that day and thought he, and so many other kids of his generation, in years to come will ask  one another, "So, where were you, when New York came tumbling down?" the evening of September 11, 2001, I sat down at my computer and wrote this letter to the editor of the Vancouver Sun newspaper. It  appeared in the paper  a day later.

 On this, the 50th anniversary of the assassination of  President John Fitzgerald Kennedy, I share my thoughts one more time.

Defining Moments

The Motorcade
"Welcome to Dallas President Kennedy"
Mixed Media on Linen
 Jude Hannah


 Private Collection- Prints Available

November 22, 1963.

 I was 4 1/2 years old. 

That day, my mother turned 40, and the president of the United States was murdered.

 It's my earliest memory.

 There was a gathering of my parents' friends at our home that weekend, and I recall wondering why the guests  at a birthday party appeared so sad. I remember looking up at my mother as she prepared food for her guests and just asking, "Why?"

 Through her tears, she explained the situation in Dallas, and that the president of the United States was dead.

  I will never forget that moment, and that time in our family's life. We grieved.

 Early Tuesday morning, as my soon-to-be-13-year-old son and I watched with disbelief the events unfolding in New York and Washington, I remembered that day and thought he, and so many other kids of his generation, in years to come will ask  one another, "So, where were you, when New York came tumbling down?"

_____________________________________________________________

November 22, 2013.

 My mother is still alive, living in a  nursing home near me. 

Tomorrow, on her 90th birthday, I will  bring her to my home where we will make cookies and reminisce. Memories on some things are foggy, but not about that day 50 years ago.  

 In a way, my life began on the day JFK died.

I remember nothing prior to that horrible event. 

And in a strange coincidence, my father's initials are also JFK.