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When you're six
Friday, November 22, 2013 at 02:44PM 
This is not a tribute to anyone, least of all John F. Kennedy.
Please understand that before you continue reading.
It's one part reminiscence and one part observation, both parts lumped together and shrouded in great sorrow.
Fifty years ago today I was a six-year-old second grader at an elementary school (no I don't remember the name because my sister and I switched schools the way most people switch TV stations, like, blink and you'll miss it) in Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
I remember exactly two things about that terrible day: One, we were sent home from school early. Two, when I got there (we were living with my grandparents at the time), my mother was sitting on her mother's sofa, crying.
My grandmother's boat-sized color console television set was on.
I guess Walter Cronkite had already broken the news to a stunned nation that President John Fitzgerald Kennedy had been assassinated that very day, in Dallas.
Thanksgiving was six days later that year, on November 28th, just like it will be this year.
There had already been the funeral and I remember watching that, lying on the floor which was soft with Mamaw's wall-to-wall carpeting.
I remember the flag-draped casket borne by the pale-horse-drawn caisson and the black riderless caparisoned horse prancing behind, and the dolorous drumbeats and Mrs. Kennedy in widow's weeds and little John-John's poignant salute.
You know how much I love a funeral.
Like Nine Eleven, it's one of those days which, along with its aftermath, few Americans who were even remotely cognizant of current events will ever be able to forget.
But 1961 to 1963 wasn't Camelot. Not even close. Regardless of whether you remember it, don't fall for that fairy tale.
John F. Kennedy was an immoral, godless, wicked, adulterous, depraved man and the son of an immoral, godless, wicked, adulterous, depraved man.
That's not me being judgmental; that is the truth.
JFK was not a hero. He was not even a man of integrity. The best thing I can think of to say about him was that he served his country in the military during wartime, and I think he loved his children.
Though not enough to be faithful to their mother.
And believe me when I say, I am making every attempt here to curb my cynicism.
Because I get so weary of hearing liberals -- and even misinformed Kool-Aid slurping "conservatives" -- glorify this man.
Kennedy was an unrepentant infidel and I believe when he died fifty years ago today, he was wholly unprepared to meet his Maker.
However.
What was done to him is no less a black mark on our record.
His slaughter -- whether Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone or had fifty gunmen in line behind him, ready to take the shot he missed -- is a horrible tragedy and a thing so reprehensible, we should blush to remember it.
Oswald, the Communist with a deep-seated loathing for Capitalism who publicly put to death a Kennedy -- a man whose family were the ultimate in elitist paragons of corporate greed and profit -- paid his debt to society later that day, with his own life.
And I don't think he was any more ready to face God his Creator than the man he murdered.
But I believe the assassination of JFK was a watershed moment for us as a nation. The inevitable downward (read: leftward) slide of our society was greatly accelerated on that day.
In a mere decade we would "legalize" the wholesale slaughter of innocent unborn children. The practice is so commonplace now, not only do we not blush to mention it, but most of us never think about it.
One could reason that any politician who seeks to become the most powerful person in the world is aware that by doing so, he is putting his life on the line.
Why do you think presidents are so assiduously guarded by heavily armed gunmen?
It's a dangerous job and, well, sometimes bad things happen to people who seek and attain high-profile office.
But the little babies have never done anything to anyone. Their crime is, they exist. And most of them exist because as a nation we have lost every shred of even a pretension of morality or decency.
I haven't turned on my TV today and I neither know nor care what the media are saying about John F. Kennedy, his so-called accomplishments, or his supposed legacy.
My guess is that if you're a low-information voter and you're sitting in your government-subsidized house or apartment, watching your color TV between texts on your Obama phone and digging in those boxes and bags of delicious EBT-bought food, and you watch coverage of the events of November 22, 1963, all day today, by tonight you'll have formed at least a nebulous opinion that JFK was some sort of visionary leader.
A great American hero. Someone who Americans should remember with awe and gratitude. A man to whom we owe a great debt.
I could not disagree more. His drug use and illicit dalliances placed us all in mortal danger.
In what is arguably the acutest of ironies, today we have a president who despises America with a fervor John F. Kennedy's assassin could only have aspired to. And for the same reason.
But in the ultimate of ultimate ironies, Barack Obama is wealthy as a direct result of American Capitalism and "corporate greed." Not to mention affirmative action, one of the most racially insulting policies ever devised by a far-left Democrat mind.
Oh but I forgot; it's only bad to be rich if you're a conservative and give even passing lip service to morality. Rich liberals -- and especially liberal adulterers and traitors -- get a pass on simply everything, darling.
I just wanted to go on record as having said that. As per usual, with all due respect to my readers I do not care who likes it or does not like it.
You don't have to read it and you certainly don't have to agree. One click and you're gone.
The photos sprinkled throughout this post are of my mother's family. In addition to my mother and my sister, my grandmother and my great-aunt and several aunts and uncles and cousins are pictured.
All of these pictures were taken during the month of November, 1963, in the days leading up to the assassination.
In addition to the one at the very top of this post, I'm in this one:
That's me running away down the walk, while my mother and my Uncle Deauxdie-Dodie-Dody smile for the camera, and my sister is doing something else.
It was a long time ago and yes, in some ways those were happier days. It may not have been Camelot, but it was a more innocent time. At least, that's how it seemed when you were six.
Sometimes I miss it.
There's a sappy lyric that runs through my head when I look at these pictures. It's not scriptural or anything, but then it's not a hymn. It goes like this:
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If Heaven was an hour, it would be twilight
When the fireflies start their dancin' on the lawn
And supper's on the stove, and Mama's laughin'
And everybody's workin' day is done.
. . .
And everything I wanted was out there waiting
And everyone I loved was still alive.
~Gretchen Peters~
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Happy Friday ~ Happy Weekend
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