The Kennedy Assassination

John F. Kennedy. I remember like it was just yesterday. Growing up in DC, I was a sophomore in high school. For some reason we had a half day of school, so I was coming home earlier than usual. I decided to take a different bus route home, through downtown. I transferred to a bus on F Street. When I got on the bus, I heard some people quietly talking about the President being shot in Dallas, and that maybe he might be dead. Someone had a transistor radio pressed up against a bus window trying to listen to the news. Some women, and maybe some men too, were wiping tears from their eyes. We were all stunned. I thought this was the stuff I studied for a history test, Lincoln, McKinley, Garfield. But today? Our President Kennedy? It was almost like DC owned him. And that was back when DC residents had just gotten the right to vote in a Presidential election. I got home and listened to the one news reporter we all trusted, Walter Cronkite. And with that, it was confirmed beyond any doubt. And the names Dallas, Dealey Plaza, and grassy knoll became part of American history. A very sad day for DC and for the country, not knowing there were more sad days to come.