Most of us have historic events that stand out strongly in our minds. You can recite what you were doing, where you were, when the event occurred. The first that stands out to me was November 22, 1963. I was a sophomore in high school, sitting in class when the Principal came over the public address system and announced that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas, Texas. The classroom was stunned to silence, some girls sobbed. This was nothing we had experienced in our lifetimes.
The day was a Friday, the day after my 16th birthday and I was to have one of the few birthday parties of my lifetime, a friend that had moved to Richmond was on a bus coming for the weekend. Needless to say, plans changed. The friend did stay the night before going home to her family the next day.
I wish that was only event of it’s kind in my history, but sadly, I also remember vividly the day his brother was also assassinated, the day the Challenger blew up and the day the World Trade towers were destroyed by terrorists. I hope not to have any more of these memories, just happy ones and wish for my grandchildren that they don’t have to experience them either.

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