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May 24, 2005


Terry Malone

I was 14 years old and was a Freshman in high school. We were called back into our home room in a small rural school in Ohio. We watched on TV Walter Kronkite and the news as it came across the TV. My brother, who was two years younger than I, had been supported Kennedy for the 1960 election and I had supported Nixon. Even as a kid of 11 years of age I can remember the heated discussions in my friend's homes as to how the Pope was going to run our country etc. I was too young to understand the full import of the events. I did come home from church on Sunday morning after the assassination and saw live Jack Ruby get shot in the basement of the Dallas police station. The first live broadcast of a murder!

Chip Zullinger

I was 13 in a small town high school in South Carolina, all white but a lot of folks worried about when the black kids would be in school with us. Because of the racial tensions and attitudes at the time I find myself ashamed to tell of my feelings about the news of Kennedy being shot. I did not share those feelings alone. I remember that afternoon my band director giving me a ride home from school and his crying over the events of the day and the reactions of the young southern white boys and girls that he taught.

Martha Ragsdale

I was in 4th grade,it was just after 1pm. The custodian in our school,Mr.Ryan,came to the doorway of our class & had tears streaming down his face. He looked at our teacher & told her what he had just heard on the radio in his maintenance workroom. Men in 1963 did not display emotion like what I witnessed in Mr.Ryan that horrible afternoon. I will never forget that day as long as I live.

Lisa Gibbs

This is one of my earliest memories. I was 3, and I couldn't understand why my mother was crying because of something she saw on television. She was sobbing, "Poor Jackie! Poor Jackie! And those poor children!" I was puzzled to think that an event on television could affect anyone in real life. "Mommie, do you know her?"

Jim Gibbs

I remember it was a beautiful, cool fall day with brightly-colored autumn leaves on the ground and on the stone walls lining the sidewalks. I was an undergraduate Journalism major at UNC-Chapel Hill and as I was leaving Aycock dorm I noticed a group of students sitting on the steps listening to a radio. Before I could ask what was happening, someone said "President Kennedy's been shot in Dallas." I sat down as well and tried to understand what had happened. We continued to listen to the news as more information emerged and the group continued to sit in stunned, silent disbelief. When it was clear that JFK was dead, we felt an enormous sense of loss. We knew then that Camelot had been sacked by the barbarians and the bright vision we had of the future was irrevocably tarnished without JFK to lead the way.

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