It's been 50 years.
I remember exactly when I heard the news that President Kennedy had died. I was in a restaurant with my parents. I was eating spaghetti. My mother broke out in tears. Earlier that day, I had been on the playground during recess, and all the teachers suddenly started yelling for us to come inside. Once we in the building, they turned on a transistor radio (in '63, radios only played on the AM stations.) And that's when I learned he'd been shot while in a motorcade in Dallas.
I've never seen this picture before.
