JOHN FITZGERALD KENNEDY AND ME

A 17 YR OLD ME

42 YR OLD JFK

I was Canadian and he was American. I was a college student and he was the President. On November 22nd , 1963 I was delivering blueprints to an architects’ office in St. Catharine’s, Ontario. On that same day, President John F. Kennedy and his wife Jackie were in a motorcade entering Dealey Plaza in Dallas Texas. As I left my van, a radio reporter announced that JFK was dead. He was 46 years old, and I was 21.

The dissimilarity between our lives, his and mine couldn’t be more evident. Yet, that event collided with my young adult life with surprising impact. I was wrapped in the pseudo Camelot like legend that was the Kennedy era. From the moment that he was elected on November 8, 1960, I read all that I could find about Kennedy. In 1960 at the University of Illinois during an Urbana conference for young Christian adults, I made a decision, a commitment, to set aside my aspirations to be a graphic artist, and to train to be a church pastor. At 18 years of age, with my life filled with dreams and possibilities, Kennedy’s relative youth in a North American political culture comprised of ancients, inspired me. I was undiscerning about Kennedy to be sure, never allowing myself to believe the poisonous press that suggested his marital infidelity and his addiction to prescription drugs. History’s truth became defined with passing years. Yet at that Dallas moment fifty years ago, a tragic reality distressed my worldview. King Arthur sang, “Don't let it be forgot / That once there was a spot / For one brief shining moment / That was known as Camelot!” My consequent conclusion was that the Kennedy years were not a real Camelot story after all. My own life was my compelling story, which, impelled by implicit trust in God would propel me through the decades to satisfy the dreams of a distant youth.

JFK, MALCOM X, MARTIN LUTHER KING AND BOBBY,

I was alive to see JFK gunned down. I was 21 years of age, taking a year out of college to work and to get my bearings in life. I had a menial delivery truck job, picking up and delivering blueprints and photocopies. During one of those deliveries, as I exited my VW deliver van the shocking news of the assassination stunned me. It was like a punch to my belly. I had not attempted to sort out the President's politics, or filtered his profligate life style from his accomplishments as head of state. I remember only that even in high school the election of such a young looking man to so lofty a position inspired me. And now he was gone. It was 1963.

The sixties were a maelstrom of shocking events. Jack Kennedy, Malcom X, Martin Luther King, Robert Kennedy were all killed by assassins. Four significant leaders, with culture changing ideals and hopes. Their deaths wounded a couple of generations, bred cynicism, shaped lives. Perhaps the heaviest blow was the death of Martin Luther King, because unlike the other three, he championed the most worthy cause with the stature of a peacemaker.

It may be difficult, even impossible for newer generations accustomed to our multicultural communities to imagine the inequality and prejudice and injustice incurred by blacks in the United States of America. There were no African Americans in TV ads, and few in any TV or movie role other than token representations as servants and employees. No whites were allowed in white schools, or could drink from the same water fountain. In 1963 Martin Luther King delivered the 'I have a Dream' speech which changed the face of a nation. It is worth hearing once again. King's unqualified incorporation of biblical phrases and references reflect his preacher background but most importantly the foundation for the principle of equality and that we are all God's children. Of poignant interest in the section at the 12 minute mark in this 17 minutes speech of his 'I have a dream' statements. Here it is.