My only memories of John F. Kennedy’s assassination are my mother’s.
Here’s her story.
A radio announcer broke into the music with the news of the President’s death in Dallas. Mom immediately dropped her mop and walked out into the front yard. All the other moms on her street were standing in their yards, sobbing.
Much later she remembered I was sitting alone in the kitchen, surrounded by drying suds.
I think I can cut her some slack.