Friday, November 22, 2013

Fifty Years Ago/John F. Kennedy rip+



    Fifty years have passed since President John F. Kennedy was killed. It hardly seems possible so many of us, who were so young when the President was shot on November 22, 1963 , are now older than he was when he died, and yet we remember that horrific day and where we were like it was yesterday.  Several 'friends' on Facebook  posted memories :

*    I remember the day like it was yesterday! I was in choir and Mr. Salter talked to us after the PA announcement. Then we gathered in the cafeteria. No one was eating, and you could hear a pin drop.

* I was standing in the East Quad when I heard the news on the PA system. No one spoke, many shed tears, and most of us held our breath hoping it wasn't true.

* I was in P.E. and walked into the gym and saw Mr. Taschner sitting in the bleachers with his head in his hands, crying. I don't think I had ever seen a grown man cry before.

* I remember being in science class. It was such a sad day. I remember going home watching TV, and crying for days. I still have the newspapers from that horrible time. No matter the politics, everybody loved Kennedy.

   Yes ! I remember too, I  was in 8th grade  at St. Rose of Lima school in Maywood, California,  and  can see in memories eye,  an obviously sad, teary eyed  Sister Mary Agnesine tell the class the President had been shot, and feel  the solemn silence that followed like a darkened room after the lights are turned off. Then we prayed.

    That following Monday school was closed so students could be at home to watch the coverage of the Presidents funeral procession. Perhaps the image of Mrs. Kennedy and her two children standing in front of the White House, and little John-John's sweet salute as his fathers caisson passed by has left the most lasting impression on us. So tragic, yet so tender.  If the bombing of Pearl Harbor joined our  parents generation together , the assassination of President Kennedy certainly bound ours. And television played a big part. For the first time as a nation we not only grieved singularly , or within our own community , but collectively as a nation, witnessing together on live TV the killing of a president, his funeral and burial, then the murder of his assassin.

                                                                                               

     In a recent New York Times Book Review article titled Kennedy, the Elusive President,  Jill Abramson, executive editor of the Times wrote , An estimated 40,000 books about him (JFK) have been published since his death, and this anniversary year has loosed another vast outpouring. Yet to explore the enormous literature is to be struck not by what's there but by what's missing. Readers can choose from many books but surprisingly few good ones, and not one really outstanding one.

  Whoa! That 40,000 books have been written about President Kennedy is amazing to think about, but what strikes me more is Abramson's contention that none are worthy, that not one is really outstanding. She sites biographer Robert Dallek as saying historians are not really impressed with him , they see him more as a celebrity who didn't accomplish very much.

    In  the scheme of things , I suppose  a thousand days isn't all that long to accomplish goals set out in campaign promises.  But I would submit Kennedy's mark isn't necessarily his political imprint, but the imprint he left on the American psyche, and how his glow, and positive outlook  attracted young and old alike. And today, let  his  words sound loud and true,  Ask not what your country can do for you, but what can you do for your country.

   


 

 





Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Cast Your Cares

When the dark of night seems long
and sleep escapes me
because thoughts unwelcome
replay again and again
in my head - I try to
divert worries about
my mothers health,
my fathers health,
my husbands well being,
my sons well being
about present day finances,
and future concerns;
Wars, and rumors of war;
 and the sad state
of world affairs by thinking
of a  movie I saw, a
song I heard or book
I read. Sometimes I practice
a method dear Grandma Cooney
used when she had trouble
falling asleep - to mentally name all the
presidents of the United States in
proper order. This night,  I find
by the  time I get to
Fillmore, Pierce, Buchanan
I'm more awake than ever.  It's
only when I open my eyes to
see soft colored moonlight
stream through an opening
in the slated shade
opposite the king size bed
my husband and I share
that I'm reminded
of the perfect Light , Jesus Christ
and how I can cast all
my cares on Him, because
He careth  for me, and  for all (1 Peter 5:7)
The worrisome thoughts once
twirling and swirling around
like an enemy wanting to
deprive  me of sleep
are quieted now. The peace of
The Lord fills my soul, and sweetly,
sleep comes