It was a Friday in 1963–as it will be this year. I was watching the motorcade on television, while I ironed. Back then I took in ironing to earn extra money. I was due to give birth to my first child in seven weeks on January 11, 1964.
I remember being so stunned when the shots came that at first it did not register what was happening. I remember crying when I realized that the President had been shot. I watched the television until my husband came home from work. I heard them announce the death of Kennedy. I saw the capture of Oswald and his subsequent death at the hands of Jack Ruby.
When my husband came home, we immediately left to go to his parents’ house for dinner. The assassination was all we could talk about. Arriving at their house, I found myself at my surprise baby shower. Of course, none of us could talk about anything but the assassination of our president. We were all in mourning. My memories of this event and that of the birth of my first child are inescapably entwined. My son was born on December 30, 1963.
Normally, I would include a relevant personal photo into this blog posting but all my personal photos prior to August 1968 were destroyed in a flood. Thank goodness for digital photos and scanners.