November 22, 2963. For so many of us over 50, the immediate image that comes to mind when we see that date is of a pink boucle Chanel suit worn by a beautiful first lady carrying roses. A handsome, youthful world leader smiling and waving from the back of a fancy convertible followed by the image of blood splattering and a panicked first lady climbing out of her car amidst secret servicemen scrambling to protect the motorcade.
On this 50th anniversary of the assassination of our young American president that day in Dallas, we pause to remember. We hear people on television and radio relay the impact this monumental event had on their lives. The most common comment I've heard is how America lost its innocence that day. I understand this, because after September 11, I saw our nation change into a world I no longer recognize.
Fifty years ago today, my parents had a brand new baby, (me.) :) I was six weeks old. My mother, a devout Catholic AND a Kennedy worshipper, had two pictures on her wall. The pope and JFK, who made Catholics feel proud of their religion. She could not wait for the 1964 election because she would finally be old enough to cast her first vote for President Kennedy's re-election. For Mom, it was personal. She actually shook President Kennedy's hand while wearing her wedding gown on the day visited Detroit and passed right by the bridal shop the day before her 1962 wedding.
Like countless others, my mom always remembered where she was the day of the assassination. She lifted me out of my crib after a nap. Mom and dad lived in the upstairs part of a Detroit flat occupied by their close friends. Mom was startled when her door burst open and my breathless "Aunt Chris" ran over to Mom's little black & white television set and flipped it on without saying a word. The story I've always heard was that my mom's arms went loose and she nearly dropped me were it not for her friend, who quickly grabbed me.
Mom sat in a trance and chain-smoked cigarettes for basically the next three days. She didn't cook, she and dad barely ate anything and I was her only responsibility that dark weekend.
On this solemn day, as the world pays tribute to our fallen president, I reflect on how a president who was only "my" president for less than two months, impacted me. Perhaps if my parents hadn't loved President Kennedy so, this day might not have had any significance to me at all, since I have no recollection of it. However, in the 49 years following the assassination, not one year went by without some mention of this monumental event every November 22. I distinctly remember how, home from college during Thanksgiving, I learned there were "secret documents" that held the key to unanswered questions regarding who was behind the assassination, which the Kennedy family said could be unsealed on the 50th anniversary. I remember thinking that by 2013 I'd be "practically ancient." :) I wonder what ever happened to those so-called sealed documents.
I do have a quirky habit of automatically doing the math whenever people share their ages with me. Instead of thinking someone is eight years old than me, I add eight years to MY age and think "wow, he was in grade school when Kennedy died." I don't know why I do this but it'll be that way till my mind fails, I'm sure.
In the years following the assassination, my mom collected all things Kennedy and she kept all she collected sacred. She was, after all, the uuber Kennedy family groupie. Today, I own volumes of books about the Kennedys, all read by my mother. I've enjoyed going through them this year as my own commemoration of this anniversary. I'm always surprised by how many of JFK's quotes and ideals can be applied to today's political and cultural events. Like most people, I wonder how life for all Americans might have been changed had he lived out his days to old age.
I doubt his life would have been quite as shrouded in secrecy as was Jackie's life. As a child growing up and thumbing through Look Magazine's glossy photos of the former first lady, it was easy to become obsessed with her. She was the prettiest first lady in modern time and remains that way to this day. All my elder ladies wore the pillbox hats made famous by Jackie sported Jackie's famous hairdos. My mom even bought me the iconic Jackie-O triple authentic strand pearl necklace replica for my 25th birthday. I'm even convinced that the reason I won the local Miss Westland pageant in 1981 was because I channeled my inner Jackie and donned a pair of cream-colored evening gloved with my gown, I was the only one wearing them. :)
I admit I sort of blame Mrs. Kennedy for my name. Apparently, on October 14, 1963, just an hour after my mom delivered me, a nurse walked in and asked Mom what my name would be.
"Jacqueline," said my mom without missing a beat, to which the nurse exclaimed,
"OH LORDY! There are going to be so many little Jackies in your baby girl's classroom, someday! We've had three Jackies born this week!"
Oh, how I wish that nurse had never said this. I have always loved the name of Jacqueline. Yet my mother, not wanting to have me wind up being one of many little Jackie namesakes quickly christened me "Janice," a name of which I've never been fond. My daughter even named one of her American Girl dolls Jacqueline after hearing me say how much I loved that name.
Jackie's presence, however, followed me throughout my life. My very conduct as a budding woman was formed against the backdrop of her life. I lived by one principle... "What would Jackie do?" Did a mean girl gossip about me or did a boyfriend dump me? How would Jackie react? Should I wear a risqué blouse on a date? Would you imagine Jackie wearing such an outfit? Even how I used to react to tragedy was shaped by the image of a young widow in a black veil. I think I didn't cry in public until my grandfather died in 1987 and even then, I was embarrassed. To me, the epitome of a class act was this tiny, reserved lady who said little to the public yet captured and held a nation's fascination for the next three decades until her death in 1994 and beyond.
No matter what you might think about his political or personal life and his playboy reputation, you must admit that the notion of life as an American during the height of American Exceptionalism in 1963 sounds infinitely more pleasant than life as an American today, where our country is widely disrespected both inside and outside of our country. By all accounts, President Kennedy was a man with a sense of urgency. Those who knew him personally say it was as if he knew his life here on earth would be cut short. However inflated it might have wound up being, that magical presence of "Camelot" will always define an enchanting era that can neither be changed, nor forgotten.
Historians will continue to study his bungling of the Bay of Pigs invasion or his delicate stand-off with Khrushchev during the Cuban Missile crisis. In the broader scope, from a purely cultural standpoint, I think we can agree that John F. Kennedy represented all that embodied the youthful hope and energy of our nation better than any other president in my life time. In the 11 months of 1963 prior to that day, America felt invigorated and hopeful of all that this great nation could accomplish. As we commemorate him, let us all pray that someday, this once great nation can come together to experience such an invigorating resurgence once again.
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