My mother told me that she was very happy on November 22, 1963 because she had just given birth to a daughter. As she awaited for her husband to come to the room where she was, she felt quite pleased. Then, he appeared in the doorway to her room. She immediately noticed how pale he looked and how very serious. Her joy turned over in her stomach with a feeling of foreboding and nausea. Almost too afraid to utter the words, she asked, “What’s wrong?” She waited to hear him say that something was wrong with me, their newborn daughter. He quietly told her that they’ve killed President Kennedy. He’s dead.
So, as he was being murdered, I was born into the world. By the time I was in second grade, I was reading biographies. I read about President Kennedy. He and I will always have this day that we share. I have read every book on him and the Kennedy’s. I find them a great, loving, happy family who find themselves following by tragic deaths at times. Yet, they continue to strive to be the best human-beings they possibly can and they continue to honor the philosophy instilled in them by their parents. I truly believe that Rose Kennedy and First Lady Jackie Kennedy are great mothers. The only sadness I have experienced having been born on this day is this: My parents found it very hard to celebrate my birthday and so they didn’t. I have had four real parties in my honor by well-meaning friends I’ve met along my way. I enjoyed each one and cherish my birthday each year now with my husband.
