It was fifty-six years ago, to the day, a Friday. I was in 4th grade, in Mr. Braley’s room. Mrs. Kreuger was crying. Usually she made us kids cry. The flag was flying at half-mast. The multi-purpose room was quieter than normal as we waited for the bus at the end of the day. We might have been dismissed early.
A long, sad weekend, puncuated by more deadly violence broadcast live on national television on Sunday.
The end of Camelot, people would say. The end of the innocence.
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