A very sad story with very great meaning
Marianne, I am so glad you remembered to recall this awful day in 1963! It was followed two days later by another horrific moment when Lee Harvey Oswald (accused killer of JFK) was murdered by Jack Ruby for all of us to see 'live' on our TVs! I recall it, like yesterday. Did you see it? And the killings of Bobby and Martin followed a few years later--those were weeping years. (I think now the death of Oswald covered over the truth of how and why the plot was so successful.)
Meanwhile, I still struggle with what you wrote tonight: "For many, the thought that we could die knowing that we failed to do what in our hearts we know we were born to do, is actually scarier than the thought that they might kill us if we do." Indeed! I am determined to finally figure out the best avenue for me to pursue to do what is in my heart and I hope the same for everyone!
Seeking answers from our higher hearts is paramount for the well being of our consciousness and our beautiful planet too. Finally, I am so glad Marianne that you mentioned the importance of the intergenerational alliance too. Wishing you continued blessings for all you write, say, and do to help!
I, like you, was eleven years old. I was in science class with Mrs. Vanatta. There was a knock on the classroom door and she went outside into the hall. She only went outside when whatever was happening was too much for our eleven year old ears. She came back in, stood in front of the class and said, "President Kennedy is dead. He's been assassinated." She stood there for a few more moments in her olive green v-neck sweater like dear in the headlights and then said, "I'm sorry," and sat down behind her desk and sobbed. She just shook with deep sobs and kept saying, "It's over." I didn't know what she meant by, "it's over," nor did any of the other 25 sixth graders at East Prairie School in Skokie, Illinois that day. We just looked at each other and didn't know what to do - not so much about the death of our president, but about our beloved teacher, our infallible leader who seemed so small and helpless who thought it was over. After reading your blog, I think I finally know what Mrs. Vanatta meant.
Bobby Kennedy shook my hand and changed my life. Such heroic impulses live in all of us to one day arise and do our part, our deed and song, our truth be lived; rose, root, or simple leaf, our each deed fills a forest of new mornings upon us. The World is awakening in a voice unified by one collective heart! Peace and Love!
Beautiful analysis and reflection Marianne .
Thank you Marianne for baring forth our Boomers’ Psyche with the descriptive clarity that connects age with youth and a generation’s sorrow with memory and reason. It only takes a brief sharing of those tragic horrors from the 60s liberation efforts to place one back into the scorching wounds of fallen heroes murdered--to recognize why the struggle continues.
As I march with my daughters I am deeply aware of the history that I have passed to them and the seriousness with which they take the torch. I cannot begin to tell you how much my relationship with you, over the past 30 or so years, has bolstered me up and reminded me that I am not alone, paranoid, or crazy. I love you so, so much and am eternally grateful for all you are and do. Here is something that is in my lesson this week and think of you every time I do today's ACIM, as well as when we meet for "Wings:" [Divine love] is my shepherd; I shall not want.
[Love] maketh me to lie down in green pastures: [love] leadeth me beside the still waters.
[Love] restoreth my soul [spiritual sense]: [love] leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for [love] is with me; [love's] rod and [love's] staff they comfort me.
[Love] prepareth a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: [love] anointeth my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house [the consciousness] of [love] for ever. (for Thanks-giving)
So incredibly sad.
Well put, Marianne!
I was 7 years old when President Kennedy was murdered. Our teacher stepped out of the class and came back in to announce, "Our President has been shot". She left and then came insome time later to announce our President has been killed. In school I never heard another word about it in any of my classes. Even at that age I knew the next day when Jack Ruby killed Lee Harvey Oswald that there was some kind of conspiracy, but how can a 7 year old have any idea why? And the Warren Report to follow at some point was just more lies.
Marianne Williamson is totally right, there was a slam over all Americans' heads that the country was in the hands of people who could do this at any time to any of us. Williamson has a real understanding of human beings. We are collectively traumatized and cannot think or behave straight.
Thank you for your words. I was just one year old in 1963, but I have always identified strongly with the 60's as if I was born older during that time. The descriptionn of being good little capitalists resonates strongly. I agree with your descripton on the intergenerational alliance, I have noticed it as well. I am open hearted and excited for more connection in this manner.
Yes, how sad and momentous that day was. I was 10 years old and we were sent home from school when our principal announced via the PA system that the President had been shot. Our world was shattered that day and has never been the same. I still find it odd when talking to people who don’t remember that day simply b/c they weren’t alive yet! It defined our generation. RIP, Jack, Bobby and Martin.
I remember your speech on this in Ann Arbor years ago. Your message then was that change now must come through united effort, not through a few strong leaders. This is what I see finally starting to happen more and more. That speech really helped guide the person I am today working to bring my community together for deep, systemic change. Thanks for your commitment to offering prophetic guidance to our nation.
There is definitely a grace of God that I feel, Marianne, over the years since, yes, the “awful” death of JFK and RFK (when I was about your age, 12 to be exact). The grace, for me, is a growing belief over the years that there is so much good and goodness in this world that God intends for us to enjoy, to thrive upon, and, most of all, to be grateful for. If we lose sight of that, we are then truly “lost”. So, on the Eve of this most precious holiday of Thanksgiving, I pray for greater love, greater peace, greater joy, and, most of all, the gift of gratitude bestowed upon each and every one of us on this planet. A Happy Thanksgiving to you and all of my fellow readers on this page.
Love, Elliot Redman
Thank you, Marianne, for your insightful remembrance of that horrible day that imprinted on so many of us Boomers. I was not quite 7 and in first grade on that day. Perhaps that is why I'm so sensitive to violence of any kind now -- snowflake or not.
thanks for being a very wise sage passing on the wisdom of the ages and helping us all along the way ... You put lyrics to prose. May you forever feel the love from us all....
i was eight years old that summer of ‘63, when my parents took my brother and me on a vacation trip to Washington DC. We showed up to find enormous crowds of people marching in their Sunday best clothes, while we were wearing shorts on that hot August day; nevertheless, we parked and walked with them. It was the March for Jobs and Justice. (I don’t remember MLK’s “I Have a Dream,” because our family left the march before that hour… but my eight-year-old soul thrilled to Peter, Paul and Mary singing “If I Had a Hammer” in front of the Washington Monument.)
Three months later, I was nine when the announcement of JFK’s death came over the loudspeaker in my Cleveland school, and we were sent home. When I arrived, my parents said “Pack your bag, we’re going to DC.” I was there for the funeral, in a red dress on a cold morning, with a vending machine cup of coffee to keep my hands warm. Watching the cortege, filing into the Capitol building, being among so many grieving people, many of their faces so proud and resolute only three months earlier: both events were linked together in my psyche. The impressions remain indelible.