Remembering November 23rd, 1963
I was flipping through channels last night and landed upon "the Kennedy Assassination" marathon. I watched all of the events that happened that day...I watched people tell about what they remembered. I didn't realize it was the 44th anniversary until later.
I remember that day, too. They had just moved me from the third grade to the fourth grade (I hated it...no friends)...I was in Mrs. Estes' class. I was 8 years old.
All of a sudden Mrs. Estes started screaming and crying and yelling at us to get out of the building. There was panic and chaos. Everyone outside the classrom was running and pushing and crying and screaming... and I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that I was scared to death and alone...and that something bad was wrong.
I remember trying to get to the front door but I kept getting pushed aside by the bigger kids (it was a 1st through 8th grade school). I didn't know if the world was coming to an end...if Russia had finally attacked us (as we had been taught since the beginning of school) or what was happening. I just know I was terrified and finally was too afraid to move. I stood there...being knocked into the side of the wall for what seemed to be an eternity. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and when I turned around and looked up...there he was. My brother grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me in front of the on rushing mob. I think he was with Wanda Gossage...or some other girl...but he saved me. He was my hero.
Mom was outside to pick us up and the family spent the next few days in front of the TV watching the events that followed. I didn't realize the seriousness of the event for many years later.
All I remember of that day was... I had never known more fear...I had never been more terrified...I had never been more afraid and in an instant...that hand on my shoulder made everything ok.
I remember that day, too. They had just moved me from the third grade to the fourth grade (I hated it...no friends)...I was in Mrs. Estes' class. I was 8 years old.
All of a sudden Mrs. Estes started screaming and crying and yelling at us to get out of the building. There was panic and chaos. Everyone outside the classrom was running and pushing and crying and screaming... and I had no idea what was going on. All I knew was that I was scared to death and alone...and that something bad was wrong.
I remember trying to get to the front door but I kept getting pushed aside by the bigger kids (it was a 1st through 8th grade school). I didn't know if the world was coming to an end...if Russia had finally attacked us (as we had been taught since the beginning of school) or what was happening. I just know I was terrified and finally was too afraid to move. I stood there...being knocked into the side of the wall for what seemed to be an eternity. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and when I turned around and looked up...there he was. My brother grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me in front of the on rushing mob. I think he was with Wanda Gossage...or some other girl...but he saved me. He was my hero.
Mom was outside to pick us up and the family spent the next few days in front of the TV watching the events that followed. I didn't realize the seriousness of the event for many years later.
All I remember of that day was... I had never known more fear...I had never been more terrified...I had never been more afraid and in an instant...that hand on my shoulder made everything ok.
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