I was born in Seattle, Washington at 8:04a.
November 22, 1963 – On my first birthday a nation’s favorite President was assassinated. I was left in my high-chair smearing chocolate cake all over my face as my family ran to the television in horror.
He was the first “television” President. It’s been 50 years and the country stirs again over the plethora of news stories, documentary programs, books, and articles remembering the dead and still trying to decipher the details.
Though I am happy to be me on this morning of my birth, feeling alive and thoughtful, I know the day’s tone will be a somber one.
