11/22/63

Within the time span of 30 seconds, my whole world came crashing down. The day was November 22nd, 1963, an average day to many Americans. But to me, this day was anything but average. I woke up that morning with a spring in my step and my heart filled with joy. I was going to meet the President of the United States; John F. Kennedy. I could hardly wrap my brain around the fact that my job offered me this opportunity. I work for a political magazine called The Political Party. They assigned me to meet Kennedy and ask him a few questions. My friends didn't actually believe that I was doing this. They're like me and they love politics. We had been following his campaign since the day he started.

I woke up that morning at 6 am, which is not unusual when I'm excited. (I woke up this early for Christmas until I turned 21.) I hopped in the shower and quickly dried my shaggy blonde hair. I decide to slick it back with some gel and call it good. I went into my bedroom and tried to decide what to wear. I was going to meet the president. I had to look professional. After 45 minutes of debating, I decided that I had nothing to wear. I walked into the room next to mine where my roommate, Bryan, was snoozing away peacefully. I toss a pillow at his head gently and he doesn't wake up. After throwing multiple pillows and not getting a response, I decided on blowing an airhorn in his face. He finally wakes up in a frantic matter and starts yelling.

"Dude!! What was that for?" He exclaims.

"I need to borrow some of your clothes. I don't know what to wear today."

"Chris, it isn't like you're going on a date. Just wear a t-shirt and some shorts."

"I'm sorry. What'd you say? Wear a t-shirt and shorts??? To meet the president? I think not. Now get out of bed and help me!!!" I shouted frantically.

"Okay. Fine. I'm up."

Bryan is the only friend of mine who doesn't like politics. He says they're boring and stupid.

He jumps out of bed and scurries to his closet. He scans his messy closet for a quick minute. He then pulls out a nice dress shirt and some khakis.

"Is this good enough?"

I grin and say, "This is perfect. Thanks!"

He grunts and goes back to bed. He didn't have class that Friday until noon, so he was pretty upset I woke him at 6:45 am. I lounge around the house until I have to leave at 9am.

I leave the house promptly at 8:50 and arrive at Dealey Plaza around 9:30. I live in a suburb of Dallas, so it takes me a bit to get into town. I view the sidelines of the road and look at all the people. I'm not amazed, as Kennedy is a very loved man. I walk to the end of the motorcade route where the President will greet me and many others. I waited at the end of the route for a few hours. At 12:30 pm, it officially begun.

I saw Mr. Kennedy and Mrs. Kennedy in the Lincoln and could hardly contain my excitement. I was waving my hands drastically hitting the other reporters next to me. Then, it happened. Gunshots were fired. I had no idea what happened. I heard the gunshots and ducked down. Once I got back up, I saw my hero bleeding and slumped over Mrs. Kennedy like a ragdoll. I saw Governor Connally bleeding too. I had so many emotions and was on the verge of tears. I could not process this. The car sped off to Parkland Memorial Hospital nearby. Everybody around me was screaming and frantically running around. I, on the other hand, was stuck. I was frozen. I just watched my hero get shot in the head.

Around 1pm Kennedy was pronounced dead. The Governor was also very wounded, but he would recover. This was supposed to be one of the most amazing days of my life. How did it go so poorly? About an hour later, a grim-faced Vice President was sworn into office.

Less than an hour earlier, Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested. He was recently hired at the Texas School Book Depository, where the shots were fired from. Oswald was being held for the assassination and fatal shooting of Patrolman J. D. Tippit on a Dallas street.

Hours after Secret Service cleared the area, I walk to my car. I get in my car and slam the door shut. All of a sudden, my eyes are filled with tears. My hands are shaking and my heart is pounding. I drive home in silence. My thoughts are blank.

I walk in the front door and Bryan is sitting on the couch.

"Chris. Are you okay?"

I ignore him and walk slowly to my room. I lay down on my bed and don't say a word to anyone or anything. I lay there for hours. I didn't get up to do anything. I felt like someone in my family had been murdered. I don't know how to process something like this.

A few days after the assassination, Oswald was scheduled to be transferred from police headquarters to county jail. I turn on my television and sit on my couch anticipating the moment he is transferred. All of a sudden, I see a man aim a pistol and fire at point blank range. The assassin was later named as Jack Ruby, a nightclub owner. Oswald died two hours later at Parkland Hospital. I just watched someone kill the person who shot my hero. I feel joy. But then I remember an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. This wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

Two weeks later

I fly back home to Arizona to be with my family. I walk in the front door and my mother hugs me tightly. She whispers in my ear, "I'm so glad you're safe." We hug for a few minutes and I walk back to my childhood room. Once I get back there I feel nostalgic. I look around my room with the walls painted green and legos thrown everywhere. My room had not been touched since I left. I plop down on my twin sized bed and my thoughts start to wander. When did life get so complicated? When did killing people seem so necessary? What if I had been shot? My mind starts rushing a million miles an hour. I can't stop the thoughts. My heart starts pounding and my palms start sweating. Am I having a panic attack? This has never happened before. I call my mother in the room and she holds me in her arms. She reassures me that everything will be alright and I should get some sleep. How can I sleep when every time I close my eyes I see my hero bleeding and hear gunshots?