I was 12 years old in 7th grade. Was in Spanish class, the period after lunch. One of the other Spanish teachers ran into our classroom and said something to my teacher in Spanish. My teacher replied, "Oh, my God". My fellow classmates asked what was wrong and our teacher told us that the president had been shot. A few minutes later the school's principal made an announcement on the PA and instructed us to go to our homerooms. We were then dismissed early. Because of the suddenness of the dismissal I couldn't find the guys I usually walked home with and I went off on my own. I passed an appliance store that had a bunch of televisions in its window. There was big crowd in front of the window watching the news being reported. It was there, thanks to Walter Cronkite's coverage that I learned Kennedy was dead. I walked home the rest of the way, crying.

It was fifty years ago today, yet I remember it like yesterday. I guess I always will.