It was 40 years ago today.

It was the day that I became aware of the world. I don't remember the late-night election returns from Illinois, or the missile crisis. Here is what I remember:

I was at school, in the second grade. I'd just that year moved to Piqua to live with my grandparents. It was afternoon, and news of something awful began buzzing about. Maybe we were sent out for a long recess while the school authorities decided what to do. And then, we were sent home, we knew it was bad, but I don't think at that point we knew how bad.

I went to the side door of my grandparents' house, through the garage. This was unusual, because I usually came in the front door. My grandfather would have been still at work, so the garage door was open. My grandmother met me at the door, and demanded why I was home early from school. I quietly wailed—I wanted her to know this was important—"They shot the President."

I guess that my mother came up to Piqua for the weekend, like she usually did, but maybe not: she worked then for the Dayton Daily News, albeit for the women's section, so she may have been pressed into overtime service. There is so much I don't remember.

Monday? Tuesday? Miss Snyder wrote the name of our new president on the board in 8-inch letters: Lyndon Baines Johnson.

I remember realizing, I will always remember this. This changes everything.

Later came the printed records. I had a comic-book biography of JFK; there was a hardbound magazine called Four Days published by Time-Life; and then there were the frames from the Zapruder film in Life.

In 1964, we visited Washington and came to the place of the Eternal Flame.

posted: 7:12:43 PM