Why do I hold on to things so hard?

Today is JFK Day, though this date has never been formally identified as a memorial to JFK ( and I think the day should) I just cannot let go of ‘that day the music died’. I do not know why I still hold onto to memories of the day like I do but I do.

7^th grade East Jr. High school in Boise : lunch hour. I was at the “Hornet’s Nest” the grease grill right next to the Jr High school. Great hamburgers and cherry cokes( they actually mixed these drinks) and the Juke box was always cranking out the tunes. The place was right next to the school and was always crowded over lunch. Jocks in one corner, the leather jackets in the other hot rodders and other just mingled with the rest. Everything was cool. When all the sudden a commotion began to ripple across the floor. Someone screamed then silence except for Dead Man’s curve playing on the Juke box. Then I heard the wave as it crossed me ‘Someone had just shot President Kennedy in Dallas.’

‘Yeah sure’—‘No really listen ‘TURN OFF THE JUKE!!’ static as the radio over the cash register is fine tuned to a bulletin “…and John Connelly as the presidential motorcade breaks ranks and head for Parkland Hospital. All we could see was the president slump forward and Mrs Kennedy turn to seemingly catch the President. Immediately after Mrs. Kennedy climbed over the President two Secret Service agents climbed on to the back of the Lincoln Centennial to shield the coupler…” The silence lasted about twenty seconds but the angst and engeryof adolescence soon re-captured the ‘Hornets Nest’ as hamburgers were ordered up and cokes delivered. IT was not till fourth period that the events of the radio began to seek in. The normal hustle and bustle of students returning to class dampened. I saw teachers crying especially the young one—this was unbelievable even Tony Sabus , the world history teacher and wrestling coach. Half way through 4^th period Larry Warshum came over the intercom and validated the tragedy. Until that second I did to really believe it. I thought the whole thing was some weird joke or something but now the reality of the event crashed in on me. We were not dismissed early or anything like that but the rest of the day was just a gray haze. Teachers could not teach, some couldn’t even stop crying. The rest of the day was one giant studyhall.

I lived on a small farm just South and East of Boise. A canal cut through our property. The canal was on a bench about twenty feet above our farm. On the South side of the canal was desert and the Idaho Power sub station. I had a Mossberg 22 cal, bolt action automatic, a round was inserted into the chamber and the casing was emitted every time a person worked the bolt. The tubular magazine held about 25 rounds. The day had darkened into evening when I had finished my chores of milking and carrying in the wood. The house had slid into the televised hypnosis as all the networks kept playing over and over the day’s events and the germs of hatred, hypocrisy and conspiracy began to take hold. I slipped out of the house with my 22 cal rifle and walked the ten acres over to the canal climbed its bank and methodically fired twenty-one rounds into the night sky.