But I don’t know why.
I was in Dallas anyway, and thought I should visit the place where Kennedy was shot. Why?
I had already been there twenty years ago. Saw everything. Why go again? I’m not interested in the Kennedys.
I was 12 when it happened. I remember the announcement in school, and that our family shopped for furniture the weekend of the funeral. My parents bought a round, green rug where I played with my dachshund Fritz, and where later my kids crawled when we visited grandma.
They kept that furniture until they died.
What does furniture and being 12 have to do with why I would want to go?
My wife Brenda says it’s just because it’s a big historic thing. I don’t know. We’ve visited a lot of big historic things. This seemed different.
At the Plaza, the few people there were almost loitering, standing around alone or in small groups. You expected an announcement: “C’mon people, it was almost 50 years ago! Nothing to see here…move on!”
It was like they were trying to figure something out, but couldn’t. Me too.
I thought maybe if I started writing this, I’d understand why I had to go.
Nope.
Comments