The day I learned about the outside world- November 22, 1963

Just about everyone remembers where they were when the terrorist attack happened on September 11, 2001. Most of us over the age of 55 can remember that fateful day in Dallas 50 years ago when John F. Kennedy was assassinated. I was 7 years old and home from school with a cold. My dad called from work and told my mom to turn on the TV, because someone walked into his work and said the President has been shot. From the moment she turned on the TV and as we watched the replay of the shooting, I was suddenly aware for the first time of world events outside my home, school, and family. We were not as in touch with world events like we are now. The only technology that connected us to the outside world (other than our powder blue ’55 Chevy) was a 12 inch black and white TV, a transistor radio, and of course, the newspaper. I remember watching the shooting over and over again, Walter Cronkite telling us what happened.

Two days later we were visiting my grandparents and while we were having lunch my grandfather turned on the TV because he said they were transferring Lee Harvey Oswald, the suspected killer, to the county jail. We all wanted to see this man, and to watch it live was a fairly new concept in 1963. As we watched, a man jumps out in front of the camera and shoots Oswald dead. My family let out a collective gasp. To fully grasp the two shooting events 2 days apart was rather difficult for a boy who had just turned 7. But now I had been introduced to the real world, filled with danger and mystery, as much as it is also filled with beauty and wonder. Days later I sat transfixed in front of our little black and white TV, watching the flag draped casket and riderless horse, as it slowly marched down Pennsylvania Avenue. I am not sure if I was watching out of fascination of the event, or because of the fact all regular programming was preempted and my cartoon shows were not on.

My mom took the Boston Globe newspaper from the day of the assassination and saved it in a special box. I had not opened that box until yesterday. There it was- remarkably pristine considering it had endured 50 hot summers and 50 freezing winters in our attic.  It brought me back to that awful day 50 years ago that began my journey- and our country’s- into the sad reality of the tragedies that happen in our lifetime. I put the paper back in the box, alongside the newspaper showing the Red Sox winning the 2004 World Series. Let’s hope if I add any future newspapers to that special box it will be for special wins, not tragic losses.