Where Were You When…
As we approach November 22, I find myself revisiting memories of a day that left a deep mark on my generation. For many of us who were children in 1963, the assassination of President John F. Kennedy is a moment we cannot forget—a day when the world changed in an instant. Although we did not understand the importance of the world or politics, there was a foreboding sense of lost security. We were years away from articulating a sense of lost innocence.
For our parents, that generational moment was the attack on Pearl Harbor; for a generation that followed, it might be September 11, 2001. Every generation seems to have these “Where were you when…” moments that serve as cornerstones in the story of our lives.
I was ten years old and sitting in school when the news broke. Though I was too young to understand fully, it was like a shade had been drawn, casting shadows rather than light on my familiar world. When it lifted, the world felt like an entirely different place. Everything was the same—my home, my neighborhood—but somehow, it wasn’t.
While I don’t remember my parents’ reactions or what they might have said, one memory stands out vividly. I remember watching the funeral from a friend’s basement, glued to the television as the slow, sad procession played out. I couldn’t stop crying—deep, unrelenting sobs that embarrassed me at the time because no one else seemed to be as shaken as I was. I felt scared and was heartbroken.
In the years that followed, my childhood unfolded against a backdrop of protests, assassinations, and turbulent change. The sense of stability was elusive; even though I didn’t fully grasp it then, I was part of a rapidly shifting world shaped by sacrifices and challenges. His book, Profiles in Courage, was on my bookshelf for years before I got around to actually reading it decades later.
This anniversary is a reminder to me to look back and ask myself who I was before, who I became after, and how my perspective has evolved. I did not have had the the words to express my emotions at ten. Today, I have the gift of reflection. I can write down my r thoughts, frame my memories, and share how these moments shaped the adult incarnations I became.
This week, I encourage you to take some time to write down your own “Where were you when…” moment. Paint the picture of the time. What was the popular music, what was the cost of gasoline, how did you pass the time with your friends, what did your neighborhood look like, what did your mom make for dinner, how much freedom did you have to come and go, what were your parents work, what were your worries and joys.
How does the scene resonate with you today? What has it taught you about life, resilience, or change or lack of change? These reflections are pieces of our legacy. They are threads in the fabric of history that connect us across generations. By casting an eye inward toward your emotions, reactions, and coping skills and outward to the world around you as you observed it and reflect on the significance of the moment as an adult, you will have created a piece that resonates across generations and invites them into a world gone by. At the same time it is a mirror to the world we live in today.
As I wrote this week’s blog, I revisited my memories of President Kennedy’s assassination. I could recall a lot about my feelings, even though I was ten. I realize that these ‘Where were you when…’ moments hold deep emotional power. They are a bridge between generations. Writing this blog reminded me of the importance of preserving our personal histories—not just for ourselves, but for those who come after us. What memory would you want future generations to know about you?