Robert F. Kennedy ~ November 20, 1925 ~ June 6, 1968

Photo:wikipedia.com

Robert Francis "Bobby" Kennedy (November 20, 1925–June 6, 1968), also called RFK, was an American politician. He was United States Attorney General from 1961 to 1964 and a United States Senator from New York from 1965 until his assassination in 1968. He was one of the younger brothers of U.S. President John F. Kennedy and also one of his most trusted advisers, working closely with the president during the Cuban Missile Crisis After his brother's November 1963 assassination, Kennedy continued as Attorney General under President Lyndon B. Johnson for nine months. After breaking with Johnson over the Vietnam War, he resigned in September 1964 and was elected as a Senator from New York that November.

After Eugene McCarthy nearly defeated Johnson in the New Hampshire primary in early 1968, Kennedy announced his own campaign for president, seeking the nomination of the Democratic Party. Kennedy defeated McCarthy in the critical California primary but was shot shortly after midnight of June 5, 1968, dying on June 6. On June 9, President Johnson assigned security staff to all Presidential candidates and declared an official day of national mourning in response to the public grief following Kennedy's death. Text:wikipedia.com

At the end of my freshman year at Yale, I returned home to Harrisburg for just a few days, and then went back to New Haven. I was one of three freshmen invited to join the Yale Glee Club on a six-week tour around Latin America.

I never had been very good at writing Mother and Dad on a regular basis– both at Mercersburg and Yale. But when I got the invitation from Fenno Heath, I wrote a very detailed, engaging letter. Even the penmanship was decent. I probably had written two rough drafts. Although, I did not directly say that I would like to go, it was very clear from my careful letter. I think my expenses were about $600. But that was a lot of money then.

Back in New Haven, we rehearsed for the upcoming tour, gave a concert, and sang at the baccalaureate service in Woolsey Hall – for George W. Bush!

Robert Kennedy had been facing a critical primary in California. He had to win to stay in the running. I supported him and had done some volunteer work in his New Haven campaign office. The morning after the primary, I had breakfast at the Yankee Doodle on Elm Street. Somebody mentioned that RFK had been shot – I thought she meant that he had been shot down – had lost the winner-take-all primary. But soon I learned that he had joined his brother, John, and Martin Luther King, Jr.

Yet again!!! The King assassination had been one of the major political events of my freshman year, along with the Tet offensive, McCarthy’s unexpectedly strong showing in New Hampshire, and LBJ’s sudden announcement not to seek another term. Oh how we rejoiced, and thought the war would soon be over. Little did we know that almost half the names on the Vietnam War Memorial— designed by Yalie Maya Lin—would be added after the election of Richard Nixon, who had yet to announce his secret plan to end the war.

Lee Harvey Oswald ~October 18, 1939 ~ November 24, 1963

Lee Harvey Oswald (October 18, 1939 – November 24, 1963) was, according to three government investigations, the assassin of U.S. President John F. Kennedy, who was fatally shot on November 22, 1963, in Dallas, Texas.

A United States Marine who defected to the Soviet Union and later returned, Oswald was arrested on suspicion of killing Dallas police officer J. D. Tippit and later connected to the assassination of President Kennedy. Oswald denied any responsibility for the murders. Two days later on November 24, 1963, while being transferred under police custody from the city jail to the county jail, Oswald was shot and mortally wounded by Jack Ruby on live television.

In 1964, the Warren Commission concluded that Lee Harvey Oswald assassinated President Kennedy single-handedly, a conclusion also reached by prior investigations of the FBI and the Dallas Police Department.

Image & Text:wikipedia.com

I have never been able blindly to accept the conclusions of the Warren Commission, since President Johnson insisted that the members of the Commission reach his conclusion of a lone shooter before they had even begun their investigation. Every other assassin of an American President proudly proclaimed responsibility for his deed. Oswald denied it. He claimed he was set up ...a "patsy." The real question for me is who paid Oswald's ticket to come home from Russia after he had given up his citizenship. Supposedly he had a new passport within a day of his request. With personal experience in dealing with federal bureaucracies, that is just totally beyond belief.

DALLAS ~ NOVEMBER 22, 1963

Photo:PBS.org

Fifty years ago, in the autumn of 1963, I was in ninth grade. I had Miss Mildred Brown again as homeroom teacher for the third year in a row. She was a rather plain looking geography instructor. But I guess she liked me. For citizenship she gave me an A double plus. That's really rather embarrassing.

My brother Sherry (Sheridan) was a senior at Princeton. For his junior year thesis, he had written a paper on Laos and Vietnam. Sometime when I was in elementary school, Sherry had suggested a future career for me. I should go to Princeton, of course, major in Arabic studies and become an expert in petroleum. This was 1960 or 1961. Today, Sherry doesn't recall suggesting that to me, but it was rather prescient for the time. Needless to say, I didn't do any of that. Although, for years I did have my heart set on going to Princeton for undergraduate studies.

Senior year, Sherry escorted Madame Nhu (the Dragon Lady) and her very attractive daughter (who later died in a Paris motorcycle accident) around the Princeton campus. This was just before the coup, which toppled the Diem regime in early November.

Friday November 22 started as an ordinary day. In second year Latin class with a severe Miss Halbert –while we were translating Julius Caesar's Gaul Commentaries— Miss Halbert started fiddling with the radio. As murmurs arose, she snapped at us: "For your disorderly information…... the President has just been shot!"

The class went into an uproar. Students screamed and sobbed. But we went on to the next class, typing, I believe. Finally, an announcement came from the Principal on the intercom that we were excused to go home early.

As I walked past Italian Lake, toward the Zembo Shrine Mosque, and the Scottish Rite Temple— just before the McFarland Rose gardens— my Dad came by in his Ford, looking for me and drove me home.

Remembering the events of that weekend, I regret I didn't insist on going to visit Aunt Marg and Uncle Elmer Staats in Washington. I should have liked to have gone to the viewing in the rotunda. Instead, like everyone else, I stayed transfixed to the television screen, and watched Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald in real time.

Dallas November 22, 1963

Photo:PBS.org

Forty-six years ago, in the autumn of 1963, I was in ninth grade. I had Miss Mildred Brown again as homeroom teacher for the third year in a row. She was a rather plain looking geography instructor. But I guess she liked me. For citizenship she gave me an A double plus. That's really rather embarrassing.

My brother Sherry (Sheridan) was a senior at Princeton. For his junior year thesis, he had written a paper on Laos and Vietnam. Sometime when I was in elementary school, Sherry had suggested a future career for me. I should go to Princeton, of course, major in Arabic studies and become an expert in petroleum. This was 1960 or 1961. Today, Sherry doesn't recall suggesting that to me, but it was rather prescient for the time. Needless to say, I didn't do any of that. Although, for years I did have my heart set on going to Princeton for undergraduate studies.

Senior year, Sherry escorted Madame Nhu (the Dragon Lady) and her very attractive daughter (who later died in a Paris motorcycle accident) around the Princeton campus. This was just before the coup, which toppled the Diem regime in early November.

Friday November 22 started as an ordinary day. In second year Latin class with a severe Miss Halbert –while we were translating Julius Caesar's Gaul Commentaries— Miss Halbert started fiddling with the radio. As murmurs arose, she snapped at us: "For your disorderly information…... the President has just been shot!"

The class went into an uproar. Students screamed and sobbed. But we went on to the next class, typing, I believe. Finally, an announcement came from the Principal on the intercom that we were excused to go home early.

As I walked past Italian Lake, toward the Zembo Shrine Mosque, and the Scottish Rite Temple— just before the McFarland Rose gardens— my Dad came by in his Ford, looking for me and drove me home.

Remembering the events of that weekend, I regret I didn't insist on going to visit Aunt Marg and Uncle Elmer Staats in Washington. I should have liked to have gone to the viewing in the rotunda. Instead, like everyone else, I stayed transfixed to the television screen, and watched Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald in real time.

9/11

Today is the seventh anniversary of the attacks on

September 11, 2001. We had a Liquidator (specialist for

completion of paper processing) at work named America,

and I remember how upset she was when our Port Director

waited several hours before sending us home. America

stormed out before we got authorization. I think we finally

were let go when it was reported that the Transamerica

Pyramid was a potential target and was only two blocks

away from our building. That apparent paralysis was similar

to the response after JFK’s assassination, when my Junior

High School principal waited an equally long time before

allowing us to leave. I remember how my Dad picked me

up in his car when I was half way home. There were no cell

phones, of course, so there had been no coordination

between us. He just wanted to find me.

On 9/11 Dennis had been called at home not to go into

work at Lang’s Estate Jewelry. The first thing he did when I

got home from Customs was to go to Sam’s, our Jordanian-

American corner grocer at 23^rd St and Valencia. Dennis

wanted to let Sam know that we didn’t blame all people

of Islamic faith. Then Dennis felt compelled to go grocery

shopping. He wanted a free-range chicken and fresh produce.

Then of all things, Dennis and I went looking for a new

refrigerator.

But remember, while Dennis was working full time,

we seldom had a day off together except for holidays.

He worked Saturdays, and I was busy with church choirs

almost all day Sundays. Dennis was diligent to arrange

his various medical appointments on his regularly scheduled

days off, usually Thursdays. As sick as he was the last few

years, he took very little time off work. That’s another reason

he was bitterly resentful when he was let go from Lang’s

after their robbery on Sutter Street. (That’s quite a story for

another time). He probably had a better attendance record

than all the other employees!

As it turned out, being let go was a real blessing.

It gave us almost three years with the most time

we had ever had together. It also allowed Dennis

to be in Iowa frequently for his Dad, Walt, and later

to settle his Dad’s estate.

As we commemorate the horrible and tragic events of

seven years ago --that changed our country forever--

it’s curious that one of my memories of that day was

the purchase of a new refrigerator. Of course, like the

assassination of President Kennedy, 9/11 was an event

that people who experienced it will remember for a

lifetime-- where they were and what they did.