On November 22, 1963, I was 9 years old and off from school that day because I felt sick.
I was under the covers of my parents bed and watching the black and white television they had in their bedroom. For some reason my Dad was home that day and he come upstairs to see how I was when the television programming stopped and the unbelievable and shocking news was announced that President John F. Kennedy has been shot in Dallas and died.
I had never seen my father cry before and I didn’t know what to do. He went … Read More