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What happened to that pretty music teacher?
She called us to start rehearsing for Christmas and it wasn't even
Thanksgiving yet.
Of course, a sixth grader shouldn't have these thoughts.
But, by God, when your president is murdered, what are you to think?

I, of course, thought immediately that I was part of history-
It even nudged a surprised, regretful smile out of this alter boy as our
solemn Principal
Announced-"The President and the Governor of Texas have been shot."
There are no smiles now as I wonder...

What's happened to my mother?-she's become old now-
She's his age you know-it's hard to think of Kennedy in dotage.
My God! My father was even older than him-
He would be ancient now.

How was the news of history announced to the ancients?
Did they have paper boys like me who braved the rain and cold-
Made braver by the Big news-brave enough to forgo,
The ten cent chips and nickel pop at the Texaco station.

Who would rush out to announce the terrible news?
Now days, we're used to this stuff.

Why, when 911 came about-I didn't even smile,
It was already too early for the holidays.
I thought finally of all those young ones, like Carolyn and John,
Made fatherless like me.

But many pretty teachers aren't forever young like Jackie.
And I once heard Lenny Bruce claim she hauled ass to save ass from that
deadly car.
But how was he to know about the panic-
Especially not the terror of the silent death of their infant son.

Four months before,
During our last family vacation.

Dear Joe,

I'm not quite sure how to describe the impact of this poem. Having "lived through" Kennedy's assassination and felt the impact of John Kennedy, Jr.'s death, as well, this poem goes deep back into those recesses of lost hope, dire confusion, and senselessness. A walk down the brambled memory lane.

Yet, the way you do it, your perspective changing from a child's mind, with the perfect questions at that age, to that of a reflective adult and parent, looking back with perfect adult questions.....is very interesting for me. You bring in so many different elements. I like your poem very much. I also was tuned in to the panic of their silent deaths.

All good things,
Lizzytysh

Hi Lizzytysh,

Thanks for your comments. I'm not satisfied with the poem and have many changes to make-don't know what possessed me to post it (but I generally don't post poetry). I'm embarrassed about 1) alter (altar) and 2) Carolyn (Caroline).

Aside from that too many of the connections are difficult and especially the bravery/courage connection is not clear enough. Needs a lot of work-hope I can post a better version sometime.

Joe

Hi Joe,

It does jump around, but in a free-association kind of way, like memories tend to do. They don't even make an effort to stay in chronological order, but come to us from all directions and sequences when we start reflecting on any particular thing. That's how I experienced your poem. Lenny Bruce's remark is a perfect example of nothing being sacred in the world of comedy, eh?

Yes, it can be smoothed out, misspellings corrected and all that, but still a very interesting and sensitive look back in time. I still like it. Thanks for going against your normal judgment, and posting it.

All good things,
Lizzytysh