On that day, November 22, 1963, I was only 2 ½ years old. My dad was off work and I was at home with him. I didn’t really understand what was going on. I remember my dad just jumping up, scooping me up, running outside with me and placing me in his 1957 Chevy. He got in the driver’s seat and drove really fast to the doctor’s office where my mom was a nurse. He scooped me up again and headed into the doctor’s office. He asked where my mom was. She came walking down the hall. He said, "Norma, Kennedy’s been shot." And then my mom was upset just like my dad was. It’s all a bit of a haze to me now and I don’t really know how much I comprehended at that young age but I remember as word spread throughout the office, patients and nurses began to get upset like my mom and dad. It was an awful feeling to be that little and see everyone like that. It was like this wave of shock that covered everyone in the doctor’s office until little by little, everything went from sunshine to darkness.
No comments:
Post a Comment