Personal Recollections of John F. Kennedy’s Presidency and Assassination

Young children adjust to unusual circumstances easily, as evidenced today by school lock-downs and drills on what to do in the event of a crisis. They have seamlessly adapted to wearing masks, social distancing, remote learning, and living with a deadly disease called COVID-19.

And so it was for me, during the Cold War.

Duck and Cover

My family lived in the Middle Village section of Queens, New York, while John F. Kennedy was president. In the classroom, I watched films explaining what to do if there was a nuclear attack. We had regular evacuation drills, and it was mandatory to provide the names of our closest relatives in the event anything happened to our parents. In my case, it was the names of my aunt and uncle, who lived in New Hyde Park, New York, about a one-half hour drive (barring traffic) from where we lived.

No one bothered to ask how my brother and I might survive if my parents were killed, or how New Hyde Park could be unaffected by a nuclear bomb that devastates New York City.

That was not the point. The government’s goal was to create a false sense of security so that order was maintained. The expectation was that if you sit in the basement with a pot on your head, there was nothing to worry about. Everything would be fine.

Signs for fallout shelters were everywhere, letting you know where to go if there was insufficient time to make it home. Looking back, it was somewhat bizarre, and we did not give it much thought... until October 1962, during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Living the Cuban Missile Crisis

At the time, even a five-year-old child such as myself could see something was different and sense the potential danger. I went with my mother to the Paramount Supermarket to stock up on food that would sustain us if the crisis got worse, but we were shocked to see others had gotten there first. The shelves were empty, and there was no food to be had.

For the first time, I understood the gravity of the times I lived in, even though I was too young to understand what it all meant.

As we all know, or at least as is self-evident since you’re here to read this, the Cuban Missile Crisis came and went, and life got back to normal – at least what we considered normal.

The Day John Kennedy Died

Then came Friday, November 22, 1963, the day President Kennedy died.

Around two o’clock that afternoon, one of the school nuns came into our classroom and told us school was closing early.

As I left the school, I encountered a crying woman on a street corner with a transistor radio glued to her ear. I could not comprehend what it was that upset her so much.

I walked home and sat on the front steps, waiting for my mother to return from whatever errands she was doing. I do not recall her providing me with an explanation for what had transpired, but I am sure she did in a manner that downplayed the gravity of what had occurred.

A Child’s Perspective

By Saturday morning, every television channel preempted programming around the clock to cover the assassination. It was a devastating turn of events for a typical six-year-old, for Saturday morning cartoons were something children looked forward to all week!

My parents were transfixed as more and more details unfolded, but I found myself (understandably) bored.

That changed the next day, when our late Sunday morning breakfast was interrupted by a phone call from my grandmother: someone had shot Oswald.

The family ran to the television, and, horrified, we watched Jack Ruby murder the accused assassin of JFK.

The president’s funeral occurred on Monday, and by Tuesday, life went back to normal, or as close to normal as possible. For me, that meant playing outside and again watching the television programs that had been replaced by assassination coverage while the nation mourned.

In less than a year, however, President Herbert Hoover would die, resulting in another state funeral dominating television programming. I remember thinking, “Oh no, not again,” and wondering how often this was going to happen..?

Fortunately, not that often.

What About You?

Were you alive during that long, awful weekend in November of 1963? Share your recollections of JFK’s assassination in the comments. Let’s talk about it!