Gorgeous word paintings of snapshots in time. I was right there with you for all of them. Spelling bee included. *Abscess* was my nemesis. Thank you for this sweet essay.
Some similar experiences — I turned eight two days before JFK was assassinated.
I made it to the district level spelling bee in 6th grade when I was laid low by “achieve” of all things. I knew I was a writer sometime around third grade, a poet in sixth.
Oh, how this world has changed. I think we Boomers are all still dealing with the Sixties. And it was a lightbulb moment with this latest attempt. We never could process JFK.
I was 7, too. We were living in Australia, where everyone wept, and strangers were angry with us for being from Texas. What I remember most is my mother's anguish. She put her head in her hands and sobbed. I'd seen her frighteningly angry, but I'd never seen her cry. It feels more and more strange every year that Nov. 22 passes without notice. I wonder when that will happen with 9/11. It will happen, I'm sure. December 7, the day that would live in infamy, barely lives at all.
Elizabeth, it was our 9\11, don’t you think? How terrible that your mother was blamed. I wonder if the age we were just made it harder to understand and process. It’s an age of eagerness and excitement, of learning about the big world. And then something happens that we don’t have the brain development or the emotional capacity to understand. I see in these comments how it resonates.
That last sentence, tho. At the bottom of Pandora's box is HOPE. That brings tears to my old eyes! I was in 7th grade when JFK was assassinated; home alone as evening fell, fearing the world would end. Then came the crushing parade of assassinations. We Boomers may rightfully be blamed for much. But in the 60s, we BELIEVED. We believed in our power and intent to change the world! Oh, we were well past hope: we KNEW. And now it feels as though every last glimmer of that dream - That confidence! That vision! That chutzpah! - has been buried. Still, I appreciate the reminder of what sits alongside all the misery in Pandora's Box, and still hope for better days.
This, for many of us, says a lot: "We believed in our power and intent to change the world! Oh, we were well past hope: we KNEW. And now it feels as though every last glimmer of that dream - That confidence! That vision! That chutzpah! - has been buried."
Yes. HOPE. It feels so tragic. We saw the world through such innocent and idealistic eyes. How could we know what was ahead? At age seven, I saw only how the adults around me reacted: in tears, or mad because the soap operas got pre-empted. You were a bit older and had a chance to participate in the dream. It was no one's fault that our trauma could not be understood and processed. This latest event: there's no way to even wrap our heads around it. Hope. That is all. ❤️🙏💕
I was seven, too. My parents were going through an ugly divorce, and on that day, November 22, my dad’s relatives were banging on the door and demanding to have a visit with me. I was hiding in the basement, watching TV. I hate to say it, but my first thought was that maybe if JFK was no longer President I wouldn’t have to fail at the President’s Council on Physical Fitness test again. I was a good speller, reader and writer at seven, but I couldn’t get a passing grade in any of the categories of physical achievement I was supposed to. I credit JFK with my lifetime attitude toward exercise! The memory of his funeral has always stuck with me, however, including Jackie’s veil, John John’s salute, the funeral procession and the priest spreading plumes of incense during the funeral service. After that, I came to the conclusion that no president would ever be safe.
Carole, isn't it fascinating that we see things, and remember them, through a child's eyes? That President's Fitness Test. Of course that's where your mind goes! I'm so sorry about the divorce and the family issues coinciding with a national tragedy. I remember how badly I wanted to be Caroline. I remember how delicious it felt to have a day off from school. But the parade, and the service, hit me hard as well. Maybe more in retrospect. The boots turned backwards in the stirrups; John-John's salute, Jackie's veil. And you're right: the world did not feel safe.🙏
WOW. This is all so stunning. But the end is what I needed today. Hope. I want it, I need it, and reading your words was like someone tossed me a life ring I might just keep reaching for as a way forward through this chaos. Thank you.
Thank you, Wendy, for your generous words. I'm so glad this touched you. Whenever I think of the story of Pandora, I have to remind myself of the ultimate message: Hope. We need it.🙏
I simply love your writing, I am a widow too and I have found your words of great comfort. I cannot afford a subscription but wanted to thank you for letting me read your words. Your book of words was so worth it.
Jenny, you are so kind. I write to connect, and I'm grateful that my words have spoken to you, and that we've connected. My deepest condolences on your loss. Widowhood is not an easy path. As far as payment goes, no worries. You're comped. We're in this together. I'm glad you're here.🙏💕
As my mind and heart tumble your words around, I sit with a smile and that doesn't feel "normal" (so many assassinations and all), but it does feel right somehow. When reaching the end of your piece, a smile in silence and then, I realized....It's the appreciation of one's experience(s), and our own, shared or otherwise, in processing the tragedy of inhumanity. It's the honesty in what does or doesn't go through one's mind or heart when bad news reaches us. It's in the genuineness of asking a question, "How can I know what's normal?" And all of that makes me smile as tears well. What is 'normal' is in seeing the 'human' in all of us, no matter our reactions. In the history of the world inhumanity is unfortunately a 'normal' occurrence, yet, wonderfully, so is being human. Thank you for being human. ~Wendy
Wendy, thank you. It's so hard when your first experience of what you might call the big world is of a national tragedy. Worse: the assassination of a President. It stays with you because your mind is too young to comprehend anything so huge and so terrible. I don't think it's fatigue so much as it's trauma of a kind that hasn't been explored. You just don't know how to react. I remember watching late-night TV (it may have been SNL) when a news bulletin flashed on the screen with the message that John Lennon had been shot and killed. I was stunned, but it felt unreal. My husband felt the same way. We loved Lennon, someone shot him, where have i seen this before? Thank you for validating my search for normality, and finding that it is human to feel this way. Much gratitude for your kind remarks.🙏❤️💕
A poignant reminder for all of us with differences in ages and responses. I was 26 when JFK was assassinated, an almost one year old daughter and her mother waiting for me at home, I wondered what kind of world my daughter, now almost 62, would experience growing up. I was 31 when MLK and RFK were assassinated and that year, and the one following, were watershed years of change in my life and work. I watched and listened to the other attempts on Reagan and Ford, met Gerald Ford and he talked about SS protection saving his life, Jim Brady taking a bullet for Reagan. With Gabby Giffords and Steve Scalise shot, a judge's son murdered because he answered the door instead of her and the list goes on and on, including the attack on Paul Pelosi. That judges and elected officials who have been threatened need security protection seems abnormal but in reality, it has been "normalized" and expected. Churches, synagogues, mosques, grocery stores, night clubs, concerts and for heaven's sakes, schools have all become targets for those intent on doing great harm. Is a peaceful way of life now out of reach? That's the fear that has people wondering and worrying about what's next?
Yes, Gary. Yes to all. So many dead and injured. How many people even remember the two attacks on Ford? I could have gone on with many more victims of violence, but it's just so sickening and tragic. And having to be mindful of word count. "Normalized." Who knew. Did anyone see this coming? I thought about mentioning fear in this essay, because I do feel afraid. But there's enough fear in this world. We need hope.
Yes to hope, faith, hope and love for a better, safer. kinder, healthier and sane world that seems upside down at times. And, as I said elsewhere, yes to hope and a bigger YES to positive, constructive action to offset the negative, destructive acts too prevalent everywhere.
Wow. Just wow. This is such a poignant piece, beautifully told in snapshots, Mary. I have a lot in common with you. Though I wasn't in any sort of spelling competitions, I was a wordsmith from an early age. I loved reading everything and I wrote, wrote, wrote. I got my Masters in English Literature. I am proud to say that, like you, I've found my calling as a writer.
Now about your post: you are right; this isn't about politics. It's about so much more. I have a feeling that graphic pictures and TV coverage were more prevalent years ago than today. Today's technology shelters us, perhaps, from the gruesome details, as we have grown into a scrolling culture. I'm not sure if there's more of a lack of sensitivity among us news consumers.
Personally, I scroll past a lot of stories, not because I'm insensitive, but because I am sensitive. The news has really devastated me emotionally. There is so much division and hatred nowadays, I cannot bear it. Instead, lately, I've been ignoring the news (paying just enough attention to get a glimpse of it) and throwing myself into my own world of art, a sane place in an insane world.
Thank you, Beth. I am deeply honored by your generous remarks. I'm so glad to connect with another lover of the English language. It's the degradation and breakdown of discourse that disturbs me. I'm not on social media for that reason. Even a friendly neighborhood discussion can break down over the most ridiculous thing. I do remember the days of the TV news formula "If it bleeds, it leads." Ugh. I feel the same way as you do about the news: headlines, and then I'm ready to throw my phone across the room. Substack is my new home.😊📚📒
Wow, did this resonate. I was eight when JFK was assassinated. I remember that time so well. I was lining up after gym time, and I could tell my teacher was clearly upset. Someone whispered the news. We were sent home early. I think. My family spent the entire weekend watching TV. Except we also went to church Sunday morning, and as we walked in the door, I watched Lee Harvey Oswald get shot. I didn't totally grasp the situation, of course. Yet, in many ways I did.
The other experiences you wrote about, also resonated. It's like I could've written this piece. We grew up in such a tumultuous time, didn't we? This fact can be comforting at a time like this. Or not. Like you, I also turned to writing early on, kept diaries, and participated in spelldowns.
I loved reading this. I feel such a connection with you. Thank you for another fine piece of writing.
Oh, Nancy. What a time that was. The indelible memories. Seeing Oswald get shot was just so bizarre. Surreal. But I do remember thinking that it was somehow a just punishment. I find it so interesting that those of us who were in the early grades at that time seem to have the same kind of struggles with figuring out what was normal. Being unable to ask questions because at that point in your development you’re eager to learn independently. I’m glad this resonated with you. Thank you so much for your kindness.🙏💕
This was such a beautiful piece. I have a memory with my grandmother who passed in 2021 asking her about the JFK assassination and what she remembered, and she recounted seeing the news on TV with two babies home (my aunt and uncle).
My moments that I’ve remembered like these growing up have sadly been school shootings. I vividly remember the sandy hook shooting in high school in the way you’ve recounted these events.
Maria, thank you for your kind remarks, and for sharing your story. It’s sad that we have these tragic events as vivid memories. My heart goes out to you about the school shootings. How frightening. I can only imagine how much it made you feel vulnerable. Sandy Hook was horrific enough by itself. But what those parents were subjected to is the most abject cruelty imaginable.🙏💕
Beautifully written, Mary. I was about the same age as you and can also remember where I was and what I was doing. I love your last line. “And she remembered that at the bottom of Pandora’s box is Hope”.
Monica, thank you. The memory of that day is vivid for so many of us who were children at the time. And I do believe it was a kind of trauma, reinforced by the assassinations and attempts that followed. And yes, Hope. I think that it’s worth remembering. 🙏💕
Gorgeous word paintings of snapshots in time. I was right there with you for all of them. Spelling bee included. *Abscess* was my nemesis. Thank you for this sweet essay.
Thank you, Phyllis. Mine was naphtha. There was a brand that spelled it “naptha” and I went with that. Grrr.
Oh! So unfair of them to mess with the spelling! Wimps!
Yes. Fels Naptha. My mother had stacks of it on her shelves for laundry. I blame her as well. 😆
😂
another Beautiful Read. Thank you.
Thank you, Jeannie!🙏💕
Some similar experiences — I turned eight two days before JFK was assassinated.
I made it to the district level spelling bee in 6th grade when I was laid low by “achieve” of all things. I knew I was a writer sometime around third grade, a poet in sixth.
Who knew it would all come to this?
Oh, how this world has changed. I think we Boomers are all still dealing with the Sixties. And it was a lightbulb moment with this latest attempt. We never could process JFK.
I was 7, too. We were living in Australia, where everyone wept, and strangers were angry with us for being from Texas. What I remember most is my mother's anguish. She put her head in her hands and sobbed. I'd seen her frighteningly angry, but I'd never seen her cry. It feels more and more strange every year that Nov. 22 passes without notice. I wonder when that will happen with 9/11. It will happen, I'm sure. December 7, the day that would live in infamy, barely lives at all.
Elizabeth, it was our 9\11, don’t you think? How terrible that your mother was blamed. I wonder if the age we were just made it harder to understand and process. It’s an age of eagerness and excitement, of learning about the big world. And then something happens that we don’t have the brain development or the emotional capacity to understand. I see in these comments how it resonates.
That last sentence, tho. At the bottom of Pandora's box is HOPE. That brings tears to my old eyes! I was in 7th grade when JFK was assassinated; home alone as evening fell, fearing the world would end. Then came the crushing parade of assassinations. We Boomers may rightfully be blamed for much. But in the 60s, we BELIEVED. We believed in our power and intent to change the world! Oh, we were well past hope: we KNEW. And now it feels as though every last glimmer of that dream - That confidence! That vision! That chutzpah! - has been buried. Still, I appreciate the reminder of what sits alongside all the misery in Pandora's Box, and still hope for better days.
This, for many of us, says a lot: "We believed in our power and intent to change the world! Oh, we were well past hope: we KNEW. And now it feels as though every last glimmer of that dream - That confidence! That vision! That chutzpah! - has been buried."
A different world. But we cannot live without hop.
Yes. HOPE. It feels so tragic. We saw the world through such innocent and idealistic eyes. How could we know what was ahead? At age seven, I saw only how the adults around me reacted: in tears, or mad because the soap operas got pre-empted. You were a bit older and had a chance to participate in the dream. It was no one's fault that our trauma could not be understood and processed. This latest event: there's no way to even wrap our heads around it. Hope. That is all. ❤️🙏💕
I was seven, too. My parents were going through an ugly divorce, and on that day, November 22, my dad’s relatives were banging on the door and demanding to have a visit with me. I was hiding in the basement, watching TV. I hate to say it, but my first thought was that maybe if JFK was no longer President I wouldn’t have to fail at the President’s Council on Physical Fitness test again. I was a good speller, reader and writer at seven, but I couldn’t get a passing grade in any of the categories of physical achievement I was supposed to. I credit JFK with my lifetime attitude toward exercise! The memory of his funeral has always stuck with me, however, including Jackie’s veil, John John’s salute, the funeral procession and the priest spreading plumes of incense during the funeral service. After that, I came to the conclusion that no president would ever be safe.
Carole, isn't it fascinating that we see things, and remember them, through a child's eyes? That President's Fitness Test. Of course that's where your mind goes! I'm so sorry about the divorce and the family issues coinciding with a national tragedy. I remember how badly I wanted to be Caroline. I remember how delicious it felt to have a day off from school. But the parade, and the service, hit me hard as well. Maybe more in retrospect. The boots turned backwards in the stirrups; John-John's salute, Jackie's veil. And you're right: the world did not feel safe.🙏
WOW. This is all so stunning. But the end is what I needed today. Hope. I want it, I need it, and reading your words was like someone tossed me a life ring I might just keep reaching for as a way forward through this chaos. Thank you.
Thank you, Wendy, for your generous words. I'm so glad this touched you. Whenever I think of the story of Pandora, I have to remind myself of the ultimate message: Hope. We need it.🙏
I simply love your writing, I am a widow too and I have found your words of great comfort. I cannot afford a subscription but wanted to thank you for letting me read your words. Your book of words was so worth it.
Jenny
Jenny, you are so kind. I write to connect, and I'm grateful that my words have spoken to you, and that we've connected. My deepest condolences on your loss. Widowhood is not an easy path. As far as payment goes, no worries. You're comped. We're in this together. I'm glad you're here.🙏💕
Thank you, Mary, for this.
As my mind and heart tumble your words around, I sit with a smile and that doesn't feel "normal" (so many assassinations and all), but it does feel right somehow. When reaching the end of your piece, a smile in silence and then, I realized....It's the appreciation of one's experience(s), and our own, shared or otherwise, in processing the tragedy of inhumanity. It's the honesty in what does or doesn't go through one's mind or heart when bad news reaches us. It's in the genuineness of asking a question, "How can I know what's normal?" And all of that makes me smile as tears well. What is 'normal' is in seeing the 'human' in all of us, no matter our reactions. In the history of the world inhumanity is unfortunately a 'normal' occurrence, yet, wonderfully, so is being human. Thank you for being human. ~Wendy
Wendy, thank you. It's so hard when your first experience of what you might call the big world is of a national tragedy. Worse: the assassination of a President. It stays with you because your mind is too young to comprehend anything so huge and so terrible. I don't think it's fatigue so much as it's trauma of a kind that hasn't been explored. You just don't know how to react. I remember watching late-night TV (it may have been SNL) when a news bulletin flashed on the screen with the message that John Lennon had been shot and killed. I was stunned, but it felt unreal. My husband felt the same way. We loved Lennon, someone shot him, where have i seen this before? Thank you for validating my search for normality, and finding that it is human to feel this way. Much gratitude for your kind remarks.🙏❤️💕
Hope. ❤️🩹
Leslie, yes. Hope.🙏
A poignant reminder for all of us with differences in ages and responses. I was 26 when JFK was assassinated, an almost one year old daughter and her mother waiting for me at home, I wondered what kind of world my daughter, now almost 62, would experience growing up. I was 31 when MLK and RFK were assassinated and that year, and the one following, were watershed years of change in my life and work. I watched and listened to the other attempts on Reagan and Ford, met Gerald Ford and he talked about SS protection saving his life, Jim Brady taking a bullet for Reagan. With Gabby Giffords and Steve Scalise shot, a judge's son murdered because he answered the door instead of her and the list goes on and on, including the attack on Paul Pelosi. That judges and elected officials who have been threatened need security protection seems abnormal but in reality, it has been "normalized" and expected. Churches, synagogues, mosques, grocery stores, night clubs, concerts and for heaven's sakes, schools have all become targets for those intent on doing great harm. Is a peaceful way of life now out of reach? That's the fear that has people wondering and worrying about what's next?
Yes, Gary. Yes to all. So many dead and injured. How many people even remember the two attacks on Ford? I could have gone on with many more victims of violence, but it's just so sickening and tragic. And having to be mindful of word count. "Normalized." Who knew. Did anyone see this coming? I thought about mentioning fear in this essay, because I do feel afraid. But there's enough fear in this world. We need hope.
Yes to hope, faith, hope and love for a better, safer. kinder, healthier and sane world that seems upside down at times. And, as I said elsewhere, yes to hope and a bigger YES to positive, constructive action to offset the negative, destructive acts too prevalent everywhere.
A great big yes, Gary! What a beautiful world we live in.
Wow. Just wow. This is such a poignant piece, beautifully told in snapshots, Mary. I have a lot in common with you. Though I wasn't in any sort of spelling competitions, I was a wordsmith from an early age. I loved reading everything and I wrote, wrote, wrote. I got my Masters in English Literature. I am proud to say that, like you, I've found my calling as a writer.
Now about your post: you are right; this isn't about politics. It's about so much more. I have a feeling that graphic pictures and TV coverage were more prevalent years ago than today. Today's technology shelters us, perhaps, from the gruesome details, as we have grown into a scrolling culture. I'm not sure if there's more of a lack of sensitivity among us news consumers.
Personally, I scroll past a lot of stories, not because I'm insensitive, but because I am sensitive. The news has really devastated me emotionally. There is so much division and hatred nowadays, I cannot bear it. Instead, lately, I've been ignoring the news (paying just enough attention to get a glimpse of it) and throwing myself into my own world of art, a sane place in an insane world.
Thank you for writing this amazing essay.
Thank you, Beth. I am deeply honored by your generous remarks. I'm so glad to connect with another lover of the English language. It's the degradation and breakdown of discourse that disturbs me. I'm not on social media for that reason. Even a friendly neighborhood discussion can break down over the most ridiculous thing. I do remember the days of the TV news formula "If it bleeds, it leads." Ugh. I feel the same way as you do about the news: headlines, and then I'm ready to throw my phone across the room. Substack is my new home.😊📚📒
Hi Mary,
Wow, did this resonate. I was eight when JFK was assassinated. I remember that time so well. I was lining up after gym time, and I could tell my teacher was clearly upset. Someone whispered the news. We were sent home early. I think. My family spent the entire weekend watching TV. Except we also went to church Sunday morning, and as we walked in the door, I watched Lee Harvey Oswald get shot. I didn't totally grasp the situation, of course. Yet, in many ways I did.
The other experiences you wrote about, also resonated. It's like I could've written this piece. We grew up in such a tumultuous time, didn't we? This fact can be comforting at a time like this. Or not. Like you, I also turned to writing early on, kept diaries, and participated in spelldowns.
I loved reading this. I feel such a connection with you. Thank you for another fine piece of writing.
Oh, Nancy. What a time that was. The indelible memories. Seeing Oswald get shot was just so bizarre. Surreal. But I do remember thinking that it was somehow a just punishment. I find it so interesting that those of us who were in the early grades at that time seem to have the same kind of struggles with figuring out what was normal. Being unable to ask questions because at that point in your development you’re eager to learn independently. I’m glad this resonated with you. Thank you so much for your kindness.🙏💕
This was such a beautiful piece. I have a memory with my grandmother who passed in 2021 asking her about the JFK assassination and what she remembered, and she recounted seeing the news on TV with two babies home (my aunt and uncle).
My moments that I’ve remembered like these growing up have sadly been school shootings. I vividly remember the sandy hook shooting in high school in the way you’ve recounted these events.
Thank you for sharing this piece
Maria, thank you for your kind remarks, and for sharing your story. It’s sad that we have these tragic events as vivid memories. My heart goes out to you about the school shootings. How frightening. I can only imagine how much it made you feel vulnerable. Sandy Hook was horrific enough by itself. But what those parents were subjected to is the most abject cruelty imaginable.🙏💕
Beautifully written, Mary. I was about the same age as you and can also remember where I was and what I was doing. I love your last line. “And she remembered that at the bottom of Pandora’s box is Hope”.
Monica, thank you. The memory of that day is vivid for so many of us who were children at the time. And I do believe it was a kind of trauma, reinforced by the assassinations and attempts that followed. And yes, Hope. I think that it’s worth remembering. 🙏💕