On the eve of Thanksgiving each year, I’m sadly reminded of the awful tragedy that occurred 60 years ago, on Nov. 22, 1963, when President John F. Kennedy was shot and killed in Dallas by an apparently deranged young man, who was also shot shortly afterward.
When you sit and wonder why things have gone so wrong and you wish someone would tell us where our friend has gone, look then to the hills when there’s courage in the wind, and in the face of freedom and those who look to him and search within the heart of every young man with a song, then I think we’ll know where our friend has gone. (“Song For a Friend” – The Kingston Trio – 1963)
“Song For a Friend” was composed on Nov. 22, 1963, by a friend of mine, John Stewart, a member of the Kingston Trio, whose biggest claim to fame was that he also wrote “Daydream Believer” for The Monkees.
It seems like yesterday that I was playing basketball during my PE class around 10 a.m. on Nov. 22, when an announcement that JFK had been shot came over the PA system at Tustin High School. The next period, in my English class, it was announced that JFK had been fatally wounded. This brought tears to the eyes of my junior English teacher, Mrs. Lee. Then, something happened that would never be permitted today: Together we shared a moment of silence for the nation’s youngest president.
My admiration for JFK began during my freshman year, in 1961, when I won a trophy in a speech contest for an oratorical interpretation of Kennedy’s inaugural address where he famously said, “Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country.” A few days later, on a cloudy, dark grey sky day in Tustin, Kennedy was laid to rest in Virginia.
Summer takes the winter as the good years take the pain, there’ll be laughter in the land again, but hearts won’t be the same. I know I’ll remember when a chill wind takes the sky and speak of the years he gave us hope, for they will never die.
While visiting Rome with my parents in June of 1963, I had a close encounter with JFK when I chased after his Lincoln convertible as it was entering the Vatican in advance of Pope John’s funeral, with the hope of shaking his hand, as others were doing. It was a failed mission, but the funeral was interesting, even though it was mostly in Latin.
Ironically, I did get to shake Robert F. Kennedy’s hand at Bolsa Grande High School in Garden Grove, where he made a campaign speech in June of 1969. I was also able to interview him for my college radio show. Ironically, RFK was gunned down three days later at the Ambassador Hotel in LA.
When you sit and wonder why things have gone so wrong, it’s then that we’ll remember where our friend has gone.
Hope to see you at Thursday’s Thanksgiving feast at the San Moritz Lodge, from noon to 4 p.m.
Keep it flyin’,
Uncle Mott
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