I was in the first grade in a Catholic elementary school in the eastern suburbs of Cleveland. Early in the afternoon, the nun took us on our afternoon potty break. As we were walking back to our classroom, we stopped dead in our tracks as the nun/principal got on the PA and we got on our knees in the tiled hallway and prayed the rosary (I think that's what we prayed). We got up, went back to our classroom and, not too long later, we were told President Kennedy was dead.
I recall looking around the room. The girls, who had these things called feelings, were sobbing. The boys looked around dully at one another, not understanding the whole thing.
I recall looking around the room. The girls, who had these things called feelings, were sobbing. The boys looked around dully at one another, not understanding the whole thing.