The school day went on. In German class next period, our teacher (a man) was weeping. The last class of the day was band. The girl in front of me was sobbing. It started to sink in. I want to say I had genuine sadness too. But frankly, I was oblivious to politics at that age, and while I knew this was a terrible thing, I didn't feel sad; just a little scared and confused. Still, I tried to make myself cry, wanting to feel something other than numb.
At home, my mom and my grandma, who lived with us, were grim-faced. When my dad came home from work they all sat glued to the TV all evening and for the next couple of days. On Sunday, my mom and I were in the kitchen, my dad watching TV in the living room. Suddenly he shouted out, "Oh my god! Now they've shot Oswald!" My mom and I ran to the TV and watched as more mayhem unfolded in Dallas. After that I remember bits and pieces about the funeral march through Washington and seeing the now iconic scene of Jackie and her children, with John-John saluting his father's casket.
I remember thinking something had changed; my safe and predictable world was not so secure anymore. Years passed, the Viet Nam War and Civil Rights marches were staples on nightly news. In April of the year I was 17 another bulletin interrupted our lives with news of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s assassination. Stunned again and this time legitimately sad. I had awakened to the Civil Rights Movement and the craziness of the Viet Nam War; I was starting to take sides. Still, it seemed that somehow the world would right itself, wouldn't it?
I wasn't completely done in until 2 months later, when my alarm went off before school. It was to be a fun day at the end of the year when our yearbooks would be delivered and we'd spend the day running around getting signatures and good wishes from our friends. But what I heard, when the clock radio clicked on, devastated me. Robert Kennedy was dead. I remember running downstairs to my mother in the kitchen, sobbing, "Someone shot Robert Kennedy!" She clicked on her radio and we listened together. And then it was another vigil, more days of sadness, confusion, funeral trains, and a shocked nation in mourning.
It went on from there, of course; more war, more protests, a President resigning in disgrace, Hawks vs Doves, dissension, a few political victories and many defeats, and the complete shock and dismay of 2001. All of it made many of us cynical and disillusioned and I was no exception. My bright spots were the Clinton years and most recently, Barack Obama's presidency. But the vitriol from the conservatives, the rise of the Tea Party, the intractable ideological gridlock that has Congress reduced to impotence, are disheartening at a time that should be full of progress and good-will. Every victory is hard-fought, and barely noticed above the shouting.
This has been my personal political journey, starting with that day in November 50 years ago. For me politics is always singed with sadness, even when I'm at my most joyful; because I know that in the blink of an eye, the world I count on can once again shift off its axis into the abyss of grief and confusion.
Every generation has its shocks and setbacks. We Boomers tend to think ours are the biggest or worst, but that's not true. Each generation experiences its own challenges and seen through our own lens each feels monumental.
And still….I believe. I believe in good winning out. I believe that people of courage and love and brilliance will always come together and do the right thing -- no matter how hard, or how long it takes. That crazy and contagious optimism was there in 1960 and again in 2008. And it will come again. And we will continue, hopefully with fewer heartaches and with collective committed determination to get it right. Every time.
It's the least we can do to honor them all…the ones who died trying.
At least, that's the view from here….©
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