From the archives: (Yeah, scary to think I now have archives)
The ornate condolence certificate, autographed by the President, arrived two months after the sudden death of my father—a combat veteran who helped overthrow the Japanese in the Philippines but never discussed it with any of his four inquisitive children.
That letter brought radiance into our home on an otherwise dreary late November day.
So, suddenly transformed into a proud 8-year-old, I pestered my mother for the honor of bringing the document to school the following day. My pragmatic Irish mother denied the request--worried I could lose or damage the precious parchment.
Friday began as unremarkable as a hundred before: Morning prayers chanted effortlessly, the Pledge of Allegiance parroted as we stood with our right hands over our hearts facing an American flag.
I was having trouble concentrating on the curriculum, typical for a Friday when the weekend beckoned. But this time all I could think about was a letter that had arrived just yesterday from a revered man who could have met my father less than a generation ago.
With only an hour of captivity remaining, a high-school boy suddenly entered from the right door bearing a message. Snatching the note from his hand the nun appeared almost angry at the interruption. I could, however, see her face suddenly turn white—matching the mask-like habit all ‘Sisters of St. Joseph’ wore.
She crumpled the memo with one hand while reaching back to grab her desk with the other, slumping as though absorbing a blow from a heavyweight boxer. With a trembling voice she said, “Please stand.” Although puzzled, we responded immediately.
“Now extend your arms sideway, shoulder high, and hold them there,” she said still struggling to gain control. So there we stood, 26 of us, rooted near our desks like cemetery crosses wondering, as our shoulders started to ache, what could possible cause such a break in routine?
She regained the commanding voice of authority to announce, “President Kennedy has just been shot” Tears trickled down her cheeks as she concluded, “He needs our prayers.”
At St. Michael’s school in the year of our Lord 1963, President John F. Kennedy was fourth on the list of most beloved: just under the Holy Trinity and tied with Pope John. And in my home he was tied for second with St. Patrick just under my recently deceased father.
The big yellow bus rumbled back to Amherst with an interior as quiet as a crypt. The astonishing event blurred short-term memory like one too many drinks. I began to question whether the letter from the now martyred leader was actually real, or did I simply imagine it?
Bursting thru the front door I quickly spied the prized possession lying on a cluttered kitchen table. With relief and reverence I held it aloft, taking in the brilliant gold calligraphy etched on a pure white background: “It is with deepest sympathy…”
A feeling the entire nation now shared.
Originally published 11/22/07
7 comments:
It is extremely interesting for me to read that article. Thanks for it. I like such themes and everything connected to this matter. I definitely want to read a bit more soon.
Not sure I have much more to say, otherwise I would have updated the original article.
One of only a few moments in American history I have witnessed where you really have to say to someone too young to have lived through it that (to quote Aaron Brown as the second tower collapsed): "...good Lord...there are no words..."
The nuns at St Michael's were freaks who liked to turn little children into human crosses so that they would all be more Jesus-like for reasons not explained to them.
Sorry about you losing your dad at such a young age, Larry. And its nice to hear how you wanted to share and show the ornate condolence certificate from President Kennedy with your friends and teachers.
St Michaels is elderly housing now.
I ran into a guy named Serio recently. His parents owned Serio's market on State St. I told min we preferred Charlie's (State Street Fruit Store) becuase the candy selection was better, even though SERIO'S had a better produce section.
Yeah, that Hamp competition reminds me of the Amherst Atkins Fruit Bowl and Wentworth Farms rivalry that Atkins eventually won.
Jack got what he deserved. Fck him.
What's really tragic about President Kennedy's death is that his assassin, not he, became the model for American liberalism.
Think about it: Kennedy cut taxes at home, confronted Communism abroad aggressively, and was reluctant to use Federal power for social engineering in America. Lee Harvey Oswald was pro-Castro, anti-business, and full of paranoid fear of America and its people. Which one sounds like the modern Democratic party?
Oswald didn't just kill Kennedy, he killed what he believed in.
Funny, the elected officials of that so-called anti-business party take an awful lot of business money to maintain the status quo. If they feared America and its people, they'd get something done.
What reality are you living in?
When we're all dead, then the historians can start to set the record straight from all the current romantic nonsense about both Kennedy and Reagan. Our appetite for heroes has affected our ability to see clearly.
This is not to say that November 22, 1963 was not a horrible day. But JFK was simply a man with tremendous rhetorical gifts and some runaway appetites. His presidency had its problems like all the rest. And I see nothing to suggest that he was going to back out of Vietnam.
What we mourn with Kennedy is the death of aspirational politics, the idea that a president could drive the country forward. Even Obama doesn't seem to be able to bring such politics back to life.
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