(I'm sitting here in tears listening to soul singer Marvin Gaye's rendition of "Abraham, Martin, John" as I write this. )
It was exactly 59 years ago today.
My
fingers were fumbling away at the keyboard in Mrs. Jefferson's 5th period typing class when the teacher from across the hall came into
the room, walked to her desk, leaned over, and whispered in her ear.
Mrs. Jefferson's face turned white.
The
other teacher left and Mrs. Jefferson broke into tears as she announced
that President Kennedy had been shot and taken to a hospital in Dallas.
No one said a word.
Moment's
later the other teacher returned. He didn't have to say a word. His
face, a portrait of horror and helplessness said it all. We knew. He knew we knew. Holding back tears, he shrugged awkardly, turned -- and left.
The unimaginable had happened.
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