It's almost been half a century!
The day suits the anniversary. It's cold and gray, with the leaves off the trees and everything brown and gray.
That day was a psychic shock. No matter what party you were, unless you were a die-hard Kennedy hater, the man leading your country had his head blown off on the streets of an American city and his widow ended up covered in his brains and blood.
All kinds of bizarre events surrounding that. Incredible incompetence and strange occurrences. Why was the Secret Service ordered off the running boards of the presidential limousine just before they left Love Field, Dallas' airport? Why did the Dallas Police allow Jack Ruby, a known associate of Chicago gangsters, free access to the police garage on November 24th to allow him to shoot Lee Harvery Oswald? America got to see its first murder on live TV.
I know the prevailing 'official' opinion is that conspiracy theorists are nuts and the Oswald was the lone gunman, but there's just so much that doesn't fit. Maybe it is a case of people trying to make sense out of a senseless act. Maybe disgruntled Lee Harvey Oswald took an Italian Mannlicher-Carcano rifle known for its unreliability and inaccuracy and made the luckiest shot in history.
It was a major shock in heavily Irish Catholic Massachusetts. The man who had evoked such great pride in the Irish-American tribe was gone. I was a very wee lass, but it was the first time I saw my mother cry.
Just some thoughts on a cold, gray, New England day.