Remembering History

Last night, I entertained eleven friends with dinner at my house.  It only seemed natural to go around the table and see what everybody was doing 50 years ago on November 22, 1963, the day President Kennedy was shot.  Ten of us were in school at various levels, one was beyond school and working, and one of the women, Elena, was not yet born in 1963.  The stories were pretty standard except that three of these people were immigrants.  Deeb was in Bethlehem at the time, and he remembers one of the teachers running into the room with the news.  Ian was born in Scotland.  His memories didn’t mesh with the times he was getting from those of us from the states, so he questioned the accuracy of his memories. 

Elena is from Japan, and some of the guests were curious about how the news was received in Japan. So she called her mother and asked her.  “We were sad,” said her mother.  “We thought Kennedy might be a friend.”  Coincidentally, Caroline Kennedy, our new ambassador to Japan was in Japan yesterday and Elena’s mother reported that she was well received and welcomed.

I wonder how many of our memories are accurate.  Yesterday I emailed a friend who was at school with me that day.  She didn't remember it quite the way I did.  Still, I am amazed at how powerful the memories of that time are these fifty years later.

For an exceptional story of memories of that day, read this post from The Dish.