My Memories of November 22, 1963, The Day JFK Died

Two days after I turned sixteen on November 20, 1963, I was returning to Falls City High School from our noon lunch break. My friend, Carol Malick, had come to my home to pick me up in her car, and we had picked up a couple more girls along the way back to school. When we arrived at the school we were just about to pull into the parking lot when I heard something on the radio that caught my attention. I said, "Quiet!" and turned the audio up. I'm not sure we really believed what we were hearing, but I remember sitting there in the car totally stunned. I don't recall that we exchanged any conversation at all.  The newsman was reporting that John F. Kennedy, the President of the United States, had been shot in Dallas, Texas, and was rushed to a hospital.

My next memory is of sitting in the library adjacent to the Study Hall area at a table close to the front of the room. The tables were filled, though I don't remember how much of the Study Hall was occupied. We had all been required to go to our classes for that hour, but I think there were some in with us that had chosen to listen to the reports there. The school intercom system was broadcasting from a radio station all the moment by moment reports coming across the wires. Other than the radio blasting the awful news, there was silence. No one spoke. The teachers sat motionless at their desks. I watched the clock on the wall and listened, praying for the words that we would not hear, that he was alive, that he had come out of surgery and was doing well.

I was sixteen years old, and I was enamoured with my President of the United States and especially with his wife. John Fitzgerald Kennedy and Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy were young and beautiful and fashionable people who had become leaders of our great nation. I simply loved them for those reasons. Politics meant nothing to me then, only their image. I remember visiting at my brother's home the summer before and reading all the movie magazines that my sister-in-law had bought. I even bought some with my own money. Anything that had a picture or an article about Jackie Kennedy I devoured. She was beautiful and glamorous, and I wanted to know everything about her. She was a well-spoken, sophisticated woman, with the softest voice I had ever heard. President Kennedy was handsome and charming and a gifted speaker with a pronounced New England accent. I just couldn't get enough of this marvelous duo.

I believe that many teens of my era were as in love with the Kennedy's as I was. Young people of the 60s generation were idealistic and rebellious of the established way of life. The expectation was that John Kennedy and his administration would make the changes for America that would begin a new era of freedom for minorities, namely the black Americans, and for all to live in whatever manner they chose. Affluence was a sign of detestable weakness to the youth of the 60s, strictly to be avoided. No one seemed to notice that the name Kennedy was the epitome of wealth and power.

That Friday all those idealist dreams came crashing in front of us. But, for the moment, sitting in that school library, we listened over and over to the announcers rehashing the events of the morning. The President, First Lady and their entourage had deplaned at what seems like was about 9 that morning. There had been a convoy of cars, including a car with the governor of Texas, John Connolly, in one, and the president, Mrs. Kennedy in the back seat of that car. They were riding in an open convertible. I believe they were initially to take another route through downtown Dallas, but for some reason the plan had changed. I don't recall if this had any bearing on the outcome of the day. But, these were the kind of reports being broadcast over and over as we waited and waited for what seemed like hours, but, in fact, it was less than an hour that we were finally to hear the worst.

I can't tell you exactly the words, but what I remember is that the voice was of a most mournful man telling us that President Kennedy had died and been pronounced dead at 1p.m. The room, as with all the nation, erupted in the most awful, sinking feeling. Tears and disbelief filled our world. Our hope was gone, dead, pronounced dead at 1p.m.

I believe I went to another class soon after, history class. But I'm also almost sure that school was dismissed before the end of the school day. I went home and parked in front of the TV. We listened for the rest of the evening to the same facts repeated. I should remember it all word for word, but it is all a blur. Only one fact remains in my memory, and I hesitate to repeat it. But it is in my memory. It is also a reminder of the gravity of attitudes that were rampant then, and still are, in our country. It is the reminder of hate.

LIFE IS ONE LONG MUSICAL

Today we were talking on Facebook about old songs and their lyrics. Jill joined in the conversation, and she and I began to converse using lines from different songs. This reminded me of the songs that she and I shared in some way over the years. Jill laughed and said "Life is one long musical", and I thought, how true!

When Jill and her brothers were very young our family went through a very tumultuous time. Things were very bad between me and my husband, the boys seemed to be getting into some kind of trouble at school a lot, and I had come to a point in my life when I felt trapped and alone. Alone except for my little girl. It was almost as if we had come to a place where it was just her and me against everyone else.

At that time a song came out sung by Helen Reddy, and it became very popular. It was called "You and Me Against the World". I'm not sure Jill understood why, but for me it became "our song". At the end of the song a little girl says, "I love you, Mommy." And Helen Reddy says, "I love you too, Baby." To this day, Jill and I end all of our phone conversations with these lines from that song. This has become one of the most precious moments in my life.

Jill and I are huge Barry Manilow fans, unashamedly. One of Barry's songs became a song that she and I would sing to one another for the rest of our lives because it says exactly how we feel about one another. The song is "I Can't Smile Without You". And I can't hear or sing the song without smiling and thinking of my Jill.

When Jill was a teen she and I listened to the radio a lot, listening to oldies and to the new music of the 80s. A group called Huey Lewis and the News began having hits, and she and I liked their music very much. One day I was in my bedroom reading, and Jill had her radio on in her room, so we both were listening. Huey Lewis and the News came on singing their new hit "Happy To Be Stuck With You". When they got to the chorus I looked up to see Jill's hand sticking out around the door to my room with her thumb and pointer finger pretending to be singing "Happy To Be Stuck With You". A new memory had been established, and today we sing those words to one another and enjoy the love that comes with those words. Oh, and we still do the thumb and finger singing.

Uncle John's Pun

    One morning I picked up my son John to go 

      to breakfast with him. As I backed out of the driveway 

     and started to pull away I noticed that his front 

       door was not closed completely, but standing half open. 

           I said to John, "Why is your door ajar?", 

       and he replied, "I don't know, Mom, but it's not a jar. 

It's a door."

The Cat-lady Who Lived On the Corner

I grew up in a nice enough neighborhood, but there was an old lady who lived on the corner who was a bit of a hermit. She seldom mowed her lawn or had anyone cut it for her. Over time, the woman had accumulated (this is no exaggeration) fifty to seventy-five cats, all of them underfed and wild. These feral cats would scrounge in everyone's trash barrel in the alley, and if you happened upon them they would pounce, doing some very unpleasant damage. People were on foot a lot, and walking past her house was not always safe.

When I got my driver's license and my car, a fast 1959 Ford, I  left a lot of tire tracks on her lawn if I saw a cat near the street. I never got caught, and no neighbor ever turned me in. I learned to hate cats through that, but thankfully I got over it.

The house has since been torn down, the poor old hermit lady resting in her eternal home. It's been replaced by a very nice modern house, complete with mowed lawn and no cats. That is, none that I can find anyway.

MY ENGLISH GARDEN

We raised our family in Lincoln, Nebraska, in a beautiful, circa 1900 two story home, complete with a gable of windows jutting out over the large front porch where the swing welcomed long hours of quiet relaxation. Our home resided on an avenue where large oaks and maples graced our view and separated us from our neighbors across a wide expanse.  They provided the most spectacular visions after heavy wet snows and freezing ice storms that coated the limbs and sparkled in the morning sun. It was at this house that my gardening juices began to flow, and I would spend hours of the day planting and experimenting, planning and digging, and trying to duplicate the wonderful memories I had of growing up with the heritage of perennials and vegetable gardening. What I know about flowers and edibles I've learned by trial and error, but mostly amazing success. There were a few who were able and willing to teach me, but I read what I could and learned what I could from personal experience, which, I think, is always the best way to learn.

The adventure began when my husband's mother was thinning out her Bridal Wreath Spirea, and I was thrilled to receive enough to line most of the lot line on one side of our house. Then two of my children came home one Arbor Day, Nebraska, remember, with Russian Olive trees to plant. I had no idea what a Russian Olive tree was, but soon learned to call it a favorite. Its delightful spring perfume is almost overpowering! The vegetable garden came next, and along with the Black Walnut tree and raspberries that were already there, we began our years of fresh produce and lovely flowers.

I did finally tire of the work that accompanies the vegetable gardening and decided one day to change the area that I had grown tomatoes and potatoes in to what I thought of as an English garden. I think there is nothing lovelier. You can have the crisp lines of manicured lawns and landscaped order, but I prefer the cacophony of color and disarray, and I call it quaint and refreshing. I began in the center with a large planting of red canna. I had never really liked canna, but I thought the tall center would be a good start. Then I began to try everything I could get my hands on, just to find what I wanted to keep and what I didn't. My favorites over the years were nasturtium, poppies, bachelor buttons, iris, lantana, foxglove, daisies of all colors and sizes, cone flowers, garden phlox, cleome, hollyhocks and peonies. During the summer I scattered annuals here and there to intensify the color and vary the heights.

Along the side of the house where one of the Russian Olives had been planted and along the row of spirea, I lovingly created a "retreat". There I had roses and iris along with a bench and some decorative items for interest. Whenever we hit a garage sale I watched for the water pumps and old tools and a sundial, and of course, bird houses.

Rhubarb

After our family grew up and went on their way we decided to leave the huge old place to younger folks who were more inclined to lots of yard work, and found our lives confined in the splendor of a brick home, (ah! no more painting!), with a smaller, manicured front lawn (hmm), and a steeply pitched back yard that had very limited possibilities for an old gal like me to think about. At the top of this pitched yard, behind the garage, was a small area big enough to plant some rhubarb and a tomato or two. I was happy.

Today I am limited to mostly container gardening. I even plant my tomatoes and lettuce in containers. My advancing age and limiting health problems have successfully sidelined me from the playing fields of wildflowers and hours of fun in the sun, or even the shade, for that matter. I have pots scattered here and there that are close enough to the house for easy tending. I have a rhubarb plant stuck off in the corner for periodic breakfast and pie fruit. And, best of all, I have a neighbor right across the street who has created the most beautiful English Garden right in her front yard. What joy! I have this gorgeous garden perfectly situated for my inspection every day, albeit from across the street, and I don't have to lift a finger. No green thumb to worry about any longer. The green thumb is on her hand, and all the hard work is on her back, and all the time, I'm smiling. Sometimes getting older ain't so bad.

Clothes Lines

Someone sent me this list of facts about hanging clothes when we were young. Some of it I deleted because it didn't really apply, and then I added some things. Washing clothes was a weekly chore, always on Mondays, and procrastinating to another day just was not done. This was a "must" on Mondays. And, this is the way it was for everyone. All the clothes lines on our block and the blocks around us were full of clean clothes on Monday mornings. 

1. You had to wash the clothes lines before hanging any clothes by walking the entire length of each line with a damp cloth around the lines. Most of the time my mother insisted that it be done twice, just to be sure they were clean enough. 

2. You had to hang the clothes in a certain order, and always hang "whites" with "whites," and hang them first. Now, the reason this was done was because they were hung as they came out of the washer. Whites were always washed first because it was a wringer washer, and so the water was cleanest, and you never washed colored clothes with whites. 

3. You never hung a shirt by the shoulders, always by the tail! The clothes pins caused indentations and creases in clothes. They were ironed out, but it was better to not have the crease in the shoulders. 

4. Wash day is on a Monday! It was too much work to set up the wringer washer more than once a week, and Monday was a good day to start the week off with clean clothes. It was all done in one day, and ironed the next day.
                                                                                                 

5. Hang the sheets and towels on the outside lines so you could hide your "unmentionables" in the middle. This really wasn't a big deal to my mom, but the sheets were the first load, hung first, and so were on the outside line.

6. It didn't matter if it was sub zero weather. Clothes would "freeze-dry." Sometimes you could wear gloves to hang them, but it was tedious and took longer. When the clothes were dry they were stiff as a board and rough. Ironing took that all out.

7. Always gather the clothes pins when taking down dry clothes. Pins left on the lines got dirty and that wasn't good for clean clothes.  Mom always sewed her clothespin bags fashioned from scraps of material and resembling the one shown here. We had a lot of clothespins, and the bag had to be substantial.

8. If you were efficient, you would line the clothes up so that each item did not need two clothes pins, but shared one of the clothes pins with the next washed item. It saved clothes pins, and it saved space on the line. 

9. Clothes were put into the basket, folded and put away or ironed. The clothes that were to be ironed were usually sprayed or sprinkled with a water bottle, rolled up and put in a basket. Damp clothes are easier to iron than dry. 

10. There also were clothesline poles with a notch in the top to prop up the line in different places along the line to keep it from getting too heavy and allowing clothes to drag on the ground. 

12. The clothes always smelled of the great outdoors. When I crawled into bed on Monday nights and smelled my clean pillow cases and sheets it was the freshest smell in the world.

Strange Words and Phrases My Parents Used

I'm sure that I can never remember all of these in one sitting, so this will have to be an ongoing topic, writing about them when I think of them.

1. "cheese the racket" I admit to you that I have always thought that this line was one of the stupidest lines I had ever heard, and I haven't changed my mind on that. This statement was used in a gruff manner by either of my parents to express their desire for me to shut up. They never would have said shut up, but it sure would have made better sense to me if they had.

2. "Well, I'll swan!" This was an expression that my mother would use to proclaim her surprise at some fact or sight. For instance, let's say the neighbor may have painted their house a strange color of blue. Mother might look out the window and say, "Well, I'll swan!" I recently experienced hearing that same expression in a Tom Selleck western movie, spoken by one of the characters. What a treat to hear it again! Ron had never heard it before, and I had not heard it since my mother died. Since coming south to live I have discovered some possibilities as to where it began, but I have nothing concrete to prove it. It may have something to do with the name Swanee which is prevalent in Georgia.

After further review from the dictionary:swan
34 ENTRIES FOUND:
1) swan (noun)
2) swan (verb)
3) swan (verb)
3 swan verb
swanned swan·ning
Definition of SWAN
intransitive verbdialect
: declare, swear
Origin of SWAN
perhaps euphemism for swear
First Known Use: 1784
Well, I'll swan!

3. "addle-do" Actually what my Mom was saying was "that'll do", meaning hush, or no more behaving like that. John, Jay and Jill all thought that she was saying "addle-do" and thought this was pretty strange and funny. So did I, kids.

4. "Grab a root and growl." This was an expression my mom used when feeding a larger group, always family. It must have been a very common thing to say in her family, as everyone would give a big smile and dig into the food. I have never heard anyone but my mom use this term, but I have heard it said in old John Wayne movies.

   I have realized that I have a friend in Georgia, Debbie Bell, who says this. I was just wide-eyed the first time I heard her say it, and now realize she says it every time we are ready to eat. It's such a thrill for me to hear it!

5. When shopping with mom we always met people that she hadn't seen in a while. When asked how she was she always responded, "Well, I can't complain, but I do anyway."

6.  Mom was almost always ready to go, to jump in the car and go someplace. The ony thing that would need to be done was to put some shoes on because she loved to go barefooted. So, if anyone said, "Lucile. Do you want to go to the store with us?" Mom would reply, "Just let me dress my feet."