I was 7 when President Kennedy was killed. I think it was the first step on the long road that brought this nation and a generation to the point where hope is hard to believe in, and cynicism protects our broken hearts.
I went to parochial schools until 6th grade. In second grade, you spend your time getting ready for your First Communion. You get these really cool spelling words- Eucharist, sacrament , confession, etc.
And that's what we were doing that Friday afternoon- lined up on both sides of the room with Sister Jean holding a spelling bee.
The intercom came on- it was a crackly thing and hard to understand. But Sister Anastasia made herself very clear- we were all to take our seats- including the Sisters.
After a pause- she announced the President had been shot- and we were all going to mass, NOW.
I don't remember much of that- except when the priest announced that the President had died. I had never seen nuns cry. I wasn't sure how such a young man could die. A young man with a dream of going to the moon.
My brother and I walked home- oddly my mother met us half way- She never did that.
But there she was with my sister in a stroller. And she had been crying- I'd never seen my mother cry.
When we got home- My Dad was home from work-he had been crying- I'd never seen my father cry.
And it was only the first-years later on a spring day- another bullet. Another young leader. With a dream of equality for all. And my mother cried, and my father cried. This time I cried too - but found comfort in the words of another young leader.
“Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget
falls drop by drop upon the heart
until, in our own despair, against our will,
comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”
― Aeschylus
He told us this too, would pass. That pain brings wisdom. And he gave us hope
Then he too was taken. Another bullet And this time our hearts could not fully mend.
So we find ourselves, a generation that longs for heroes- who cannot trust them. A generation that would rather convince themselves that they cannot make change, because change will break their hearts again. That hope and change and dreaming are for suckers. That good guys will finish last. And anytime they tentatively trust- in the back of their minds there is " Is there another bullet that will break my heart again?'