Reply #27: I was 8 years old, in the thrid grade in Washington state. [View All]

[SeattleGirl]

My teacher, Mrs. White, was wearing a white dress with a floral pattern. Her hair was brown, worn in the bouffant hairstyle of the day (it's like a photo in my mind). An older teacher came in and whispered something in Mrs. White's ear, and Mrs. White started crying. We kids all froze at seeing her cry. Then she told us the President had been shot, and we were all to go home. I remember walking down the hall past the main office, and the adults in there were all crying.

I remember those 4 days, Jack Ruby shooting Oswald, the funeral, the riderless horse. When I picture it, it is as if the world was cloaked in black, and feeling very, very sad. It was my acute and painful awakening to politics, government, and how wrong things can go.