life, memories

1963

etikser


When I was little, we went to 12 o’clock mass on Sundays. That’s what it was called, 12 o’clock mass. Back then Catholics didn’t sing the same songs as Protestants. Some songs were Catholic songs and some were not. My recollection, anyhow. Like the Catholic Lord’s Prayer was different from the Protestant Lord’s Prayer. Although we called it the Our Father. In the confessional box, the last words from the priest were always, “For your penance, say five Our Fathers and three Hail Marys.”

It so happened that while we were getting ready for 12 o’clock mass on Sundays, there was a cartoon show on TV called Davy and Goliath. Davy was a little boy with a dog, Goliath, and the show had a religious theme of some sort. I liked the show but I never got to see the end because we left for church about fifteen minutes before it was over. The intro music for that show was A Mighty Fortress, and since then I’ve always loved that song. I think as a kid I found the words impressive. Mighty and cruel hate and Sabaoth. Abideth and doth. And the melody was sort of compelling. But I knew it wasn’t a song we ever sang in church.

One Sunday in November, Davy and Goliath was pre-empted, or maybe it was interrupted. It was that weekend when almost all the shows were pre-empted. Back then, breaking news was truly breaking news. As it turned out, that week, the previous Friday, my parents had to go to the funeral home because one of my uncles had died. I suppose I was young enough I didn’t have to go with them. When it came time for my parents to return home, some aunts and uncles were with them. I guess to pick up their kids, my cousins, who stayed at our house too that Friday. With the oldest in charge. When the grown-ups walked in the house, in their Sunday best funeral home clothes, all the kids, including me, and the cousins, were jumping up and down on the beds. I don’t know how it started. I guess it just looked like fun. The grown-ups were so angry. I’m not sure this is important, but it is the context for me that following Sunday.

My memory is that we were getting ready to leave for church on Sunday and the TV was still on. I think we all looked at the screen because they were going to show the guy who killed President Kennedy. We were standing in the living room watching and could see a lot of people in camera view, and they brought a man out in handcuffs. I remember thinking something like, “Is that him?” It seemed seconds later, one of the men on the bottom of the screen moved toward the prisoner, poked a gun into the suspect’s waist, and shot him. Right there, on TV while we watched.

Kennedy was just killed a few days earlier. Now, there we are in our living room, the guy who shot Kennedy was already caught, and some other man walks up to him in the middle of the press and the police, and shoots him dead. It seemed nobody even moved to stop the shooter. It was surreal. I’m sure I didn’t know that word back then. But it was the feeling we’d all had that whole creepy weekend. Surely, someone would come on TV and tell us some story other than Kennedy was dead. I think we expected them to say they got it wrong. It was a practice or a drill maybe, or somebody else was killed and they just thought it was Kennedy. Or they thought Kennedy died, but he was really still alive. Well, that didn’t happen. Now it was two days later, and they were saying this guy we just saw on TV got through the crowd and shot the suspect. The suspect who shot the president. Huh??

I was thinking, “Can we all go back to Davy and Goliath and A Mighty Fortress?”

But no, we turned off the TV that Sunday, piled in the car, and went off to 12 o’clock mass.

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Published by etikser

https://etikser.home.blog/

30 thoughts on “1963”

  1. What memories that brings back! We must be nearly the same age—I was born in 1957—and I, too, was raised as a Catholic. And, yes, there were Protestant songs and Catholic songs and we called The Lord’s Prayer the Our Father. We went to mass earlier, around 10:00 or so. I didn’t watch cartoons on Sunday, but I do remember wishing that the coverage of Kennedy’s death and funeral would end so that I could go back to watching my regular line-up of shows and cartoons.

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    1. Thanks. I guess as kids we suck up these bits and pieces of life around us, good and bad, and something like a song will bring it to the surface. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment.

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  5. Your post brings back a lot of memories for me. I was born in 1959, so I don’t remember John F. Kennedy’s assassination; however, I do remember Robert Kennedy’s assassination and Martin Luther King, Sr. We always went to 12:00 mass, too. I remember my penance always being three “Our Fathers” and “Three Hail Marys.” And you are right, breaking news was really breaking news back then. Times sure have changed – in both good and not so good ways. Have a good day, and thanks for your post.

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    1. Well, it was a dark time in history, but I’m glad to hear you related to my post. Sometimes memories are what they are, good, bad, and silly, all mixed into what we recall, I guess. Thanks so much for taking the time to read and comment.

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    1. I knew a lot of people who would go to midnight Mass for Christmas and then go home and open presents. We never did that, but I imagine it would have been a fun late night. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment!

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  12.  Sharing that date from my life back on OLD MILL ROAD in Ridgeway VA

    November 21, 1963                                                                            

    He took the harmonica

    from the bib pocket of his overalls

    blew thru left to right, low to high

    back and forth a couple times,

    slapped it on his palm

    like he’d tamp his cigarette,

    one of those unfiltered Camels

    on his dulled dented Zippo.

    He blew a quick riff up the scale,

    inhaled it back down,

    spun his harmonica around

    slapped it a couple more times,

    stopped as if thinking

    about what he’d play

    then smile that smile he’d smile

    while looking at her,

    start in on The Tennessee Waltz

    watching her stand up, close her eyes,

    hug herself and sway.

    As he played he moved to her side

    wrapping his left arm around her waist,

    she draped both arms on his shoulders

    and they glided around the living room

    in a world of their own

    viewed by us six kids,

    all of us grinning and smirking

    and making kissy faces

    watching mom and dad,

    mom singing the words

    motioning us all up to dance

    that night we stayed up late

    that night before

    president Kennedy was killed

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    1. Oh wow, that was great. And sad, of course, at the same time. All in all, it was a special memory, and your words described it beautifully. Thanks so much for sharing.

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