Last evening, we watched a film called Jackie. As you might guess, it tells the story of Jackie Kennedy, after the assassination of JFK. The film is wonderful and awful at the same time. We were both painfully aware in November 1963 of what transpired that fateful day in Dallas.
Carol was sitting in our apartment on Nob Hill in San Francisco that morning. We lived right behind Grace Cathedral. Suddenly, the bells at the cathedral began chanting their sad tale, and carol had no idea why they were pronouncing their message to the world of San Francisco. We had no television, only radio. We had given up TV in 1959, hoping our kids would grow up without the banality of TV entertainment. So, Carol tuned into our local FM radio station to learn about the intoning bells. She sat in shock, while listening to the sad tale.
I had just flown into Boston that morning from San Francisco. I had rented a car at the airport and I was driving to our home office HQ in Cambridge. As I neared the office, the news came on the air. JFK had been shot while in a motorcade in Dallas. JFK was dead. JFK was dead. JFK was dead
I sat in the car, in the driveway of our office, in shock. I could not move. I didn’t know what to do, or say to anyone. Finally, I left the car and entered our office. Inside, it was quiet, except that a radio had been on. Everyone in the office sat there silent. We had all been supporters of the Kennedy’s. We had lived through the Cuban Missile Crisis early in his term. I was still working at Lockheed Missiles and Space Company, as an engineer working on the Polaris, submarine launched missile system. We would retreat after work, and drink martini’s, while discussing where we would go, should the missiles begin flying to and from Russia and/or Cuba. Should we drive to the ocean, away from the city, or instead, maybe it might be safer to drive to the Sierra’s . . . yeah, the mountains. They would be safer.
So, we were tuned into the world, and to the Kennedy’s. Jackie was like princess. They brought us . . . Camelot.
And now he was gone, gone because yet another idiot had a gun and decided he needed to kill JFK. Why? Just cuz he could.
When I flew home, I experienced fear of flying for the first time. Why? Because I was a mere mortal. Death was at hand and who knew when/how Death might appear.
Yes, the film brought all that story back into our heads. They recreated a tale of horror from our own past.
Yes, the film was worth watching. Yes we were again saddened, revisiting another episode in our very full lives together.
We have witnessed a lot of man’s inhumanity to man.
World War II . . . Korean War . . . the JFK assassination, Vietnam, and now the Middle Eastern never ending horror story. Apparently, the main thing mankind has learned from its many gods is, when in doubt throw some bullets at it.
And now we have The Donald to teach us anew.