45 years ago today . . .

. . . hopes and dreams, murdered in Dallas.

I was but a wee lad of three, that late November day. I remember hearing the word "assassinated" and connected it right away to the flag covered coffin in the Capitol Rotunda I saw on TV. Mom and Dad were both Real Upset, especially Mom.

I saw the whole thing on my Auntie June's black-and-white TV: the caisson, the big black stallion with the reversed boots in the stirrups, and John-John, a kid my age, saluting with one hand as he held his Mom's with the other.

Years later, I read about the things, both good and not so good, that formed John F. Kennedy's legacy. How just six years after that horrible day in Dealy Plaza an American first set foot on our planet's natural satellite, igniting an explosion in science and technology that led to personal computers and the Internet. How he stood resolute in the face of aggression, and how that stand eventually led to tragedy and defeat in a distant corner of Southeast Asia. How his death laid the groundwork for many key pieces of civil rights legislation, and how cynically future presidential candidates from Goldwater to McCain would exploit reaction to these victories for the next forty years.

Things really went to hell after that.

For JFK, and Mom: