50 years ago today my father was stationed at Ft Worth, Texas - right next to Dallas.
Mom's story: Bob, Mom and I were taking a nap (I was 3-4 years old) and
they had the radio on. The news that President John F. Kennedy had been
shot in Dallas. Both pairs of feet hit the floor at the same time.
Bob quickly got dressed, pulled what money he had out of his pockets and
put it on the dresser, kissed me and then kissed Mom and said he didn't
know when he'd be home. My father was in the Army and was a fine
soldier - a drill sergeant, soldier of the month many times, and more.
No one knew what was happening - chaos and disbelief swamped the entire
nation but especially in Texas. Everyone waited by phones, televisions
and radios, many people hovering around appliance stores or beauty
parlors, anywhere there was a tv or a radio.
Then came the word hours later that President Kennedy was dead and the nation went numb and then into a depression.
Fifty years later we're still asking why and who. Was the assassin, Lee
Harvey Oswald, the only shooter? Was he part of a conspiracy,
knowingly or unknowingly? Was he a fall guy? Will we ever really know?
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