The Day Kennedy Died

On Tuesday my aunt and uncle are arriving for a short visit...a too short a visit as often happens with loved family. I wished they lived closer! 

We've had a few visitors lately and it's been wonderful. Last weekend was Susan and the weekend before that was my friend Karen. Also the weekend before was my mother's cousin Joanne. My mother has a plethora of cousins and I'd never met Joanne or Ernie, her husband, before. They were both charming and delightful people. 

As we were finishing lunch and they were preparing to drive toward Kansas City, Ernie started telling us a story about Joanne's late sister Ginny. In the early 1960s, Ginny worked as a secretary for a Dallas doctor. On November 22, 1963, Ginny and the doctor she worked for were working at Parkland Memorial Hospital. Most of you have guessed where this is going...that's the day John F. Kennedy was assassinated and that's the hospital his body was taken too. Ginny was there! Ginny saw Jackie Kennedy come into the hospital carrying part of Pres. Kennedy's brain and hand it to doctors!

Meanwhile, Ernie was a college professor and had come home to have lunch with Joanne and their children. They were watching the news coverage on TV, which was announcing that the President was still alive. Ginny called their house and told them Kennedy was dead...Joanne was so shocked she actually argued with Ginny and told her what was being said on TV. Ginny told Joanne about seeing Mrs. Kennedy and what the doctors were saying...President Kennedy was dead.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to ask Ernie any questions...did Ginny see Kennedy, what role, if any, did the doctor she worked for have, etc. Ernie told us the name of the doctor Ginny worked for, but I'm not sure I'm remembering it correctly so I'm not going to include it here. I wish I'd been able to hear more of the story, but what a fascinating piece of history to have been there to witness (albeit, a rather gruesome and sad piece!).

Up until now, the only family story I knew about that day was about my paternal grandparents. They were traveling by train from Austin, Texas to Chicago to see their first grandchild...my brother. At every train stop, they'd lean out the windows to hear the paperboys yelling out the latest news. I assume my father was at work, but I've never asked my parents what they were doing. My mother just always talks about the horrible, horrible shock that it could happen in America. As a strange sidebar, about 35 years later a cousin on dad's side of the family did part of her medical residency at the Parkland hospital.