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Writer's Block: News development
3/21/10 10:51 am[Error: unknown template qotd]Easy. The Assassination of John F. Kennedy. I was 6 years old at the time.
I remember getting out of school (I don't remember it being early, but it may have been), and going to the car. My mother was in the front seat, and I did my usual little joke of sneaking behind the car and creeping up to her window to scare her. This time, though, she was crying. I asked her what was wrong, but she just said, "Don't worry about it, let's go home."
We got home, and my father was there, which was really strange. I didn't really understand what was happening, except I remember all the Saturday morning cartoons were pre-empted with boring news stuff. I remember the funeral, and how the black riderless horse kept acting up and prancing in the cortege. I remember an announcer saying, "Blackjack is certainly frisky today." Being completely enamored of horses, I began frolicking around the living room and asking my father if I was being frisky. I don't know if it's a testimony to my parents' shock or their patience with me, but I was never scolded or told to settle down.
I don't know when it clicked for me that this was the assassination of Kennedy -- I may have slowly come to that realization as I grew up. I don't remember anyone telling me "That was when the president was murdered."
I remember getting out of school (I don't remember it being early, but it may have been), and going to the car. My mother was in the front seat, and I did my usual little joke of sneaking behind the car and creeping up to her window to scare her. This time, though, she was crying. I asked her what was wrong, but she just said, "Don't worry about it, let's go home."
We got home, and my father was there, which was really strange. I didn't really understand what was happening, except I remember all the Saturday morning cartoons were pre-empted with boring news stuff. I remember the funeral, and how the black riderless horse kept acting up and prancing in the cortege. I remember an announcer saying, "Blackjack is certainly frisky today." Being completely enamored of horses, I began frolicking around the living room and asking my father if I was being frisky. I don't know if it's a testimony to my parents' shock or their patience with me, but I was never scolded or told to settle down.
I don't know when it clicked for me that this was the assassination of Kennedy -- I may have slowly come to that realization as I grew up. I don't remember anyone telling me "That was when the president was murdered."
