November 22, 2005
"The President Is Dead"
I was in the fourth grade at Sykes Elementary in Jackson, MS. Mrs. Hicks was my teacher. Earlier that morning, November 22, 1963, the principal, Mr. Bennett, had come into the classroom and whispered something to Mrs. Hicks. Her face went pale, and she gravely announced to the class that President Kennedy had been shot. Not long after that, Mr. Bennett returned to the classroom and once again quietly said something to Mrs. Hicks. She then announced, "The President is dead". I can remember the entire scene like it was yesterday - the rows of desks, the chalkboards, Mrs. Hicks' desk in the front center, a few feet in front of the chalkboards. It was probably the first time I had seen an adult with that look on their face. I don't think we, the students, really understood. In fact, I know we didn't. All we knew was that school was dismissed for the rest of the day, and there was no school until after the funeral. Kennedy wasn't particularly popular in Mississippi. More than one Mississippian expressed something very near happiness that he was dead, although those sentiments, even here, were rare. The image I retain from the televised funeral was that of the riderless horse, and the relentless drum cadence - I remember it being a single drum, although that may not be correct. At some point over the next days, the shock our parents were feeling got through to us, but we had no idea that the world had changed that day, that the United States had aged in a split second. November 22, 1963.
A Different Time
World War I has been seen as the last chapter of an earlier time, one that is somehow, sometimes described as more civilized, despite the brutality of the war. One example that's often pointed to is the "Christmas Truce" of 1914, when German and British soldiers, and to a lesser extent French and Belgian soldiers, more or less spontaneously mingled in No Man's Land and exchanged greetings and spur-of-the-moment gifts. All too soon, however, the trench warfare and killing began again. I write this because the last known Allied survivor of the Truce has died. Alfred Anderson died in his native Scotland on Monday at the age of 109.
H/t to James at Apropos Of Nothing.