The Day JFK Was Shot

My memory of the day John F. Kennedy was shot is inextricably tied to what my mother was wearing at the time. When I look back on that day, I see my mother wearing her bulky black hooded cardigan, bundled up to take us to the park. I see her face, frozen in disbelief, then crumpling in sadness as our neighbor runs up the block, screaming, “the President’s been shot.” My mother never wore that sweater again, but never parted with it either. That sweater came to be for me a symbol of not only my mother’s grief, but also the grief that blanketed the country, as well as the sadness and confusion of my six-year-old self as the grown-ups around me mourned a loss of innocence and hope. - Jessica Sporn