I have written about this incident before, but I figured the official 60th anniversary of JFK's assassination warranted another telling of the tale, plus some historical and cultural observances from a 72-year-old Boomer.  

In November 1963 I was 12 years old and in 7th grade. The school environment and I had never jived, and it was getting worse. I was at the peak of my stuttering issue, and I could literally not even say my name when asked. Add to that the cruelty of kids at that age and indifferent teachers and it was a recipe for failure. And I was doing my part by failing badly. The parent/teacher conferences were being held on November 22. I was scared shitless, as I was flunking everything and knew the piper was coming for his due. I went to a friend's house so at least I would not be there when my parents got home from speaking with my home room teacher, Mrs. Williams. That is when I heard the news on TV that JFK had been shot. By the time I got home my folks were already there. Evidently the news hit just as they were going in to see my teacher and the conference was canceled and I lived to see another day. Strangely enough it was never rescheduled. I don't think anybody cared. My science/math teacher was convinced I was a little retarded and was doing as best as I was capable of. He actually wrote that on my report card. I decided that worked for me too and never put any more effort into school after that. My parents gave up caring too and I found being on the short bus a real comfortable ride. I have had mixed emotions about that assassination ever since. In many ways it emancipated me from the system.

There is another more historical aspect to this date also. When I look back on my whole life as a Boomer, I believe JFK's assassination was the biggest cultural turning point in our country in my lifetime. We went from the post WW2 optimistic suburban dreamscape to a huge generation gap as that gigantic swath of Boomers came of age. JFK's assassination set the stage for the instability of the 60's. "Leave it to Beaver" also died that day and I learned to use apathy as refuge and sanctuary from an increasingly polarized and dumbed down society. I realize I was born in a sweet spot in history and appreciate and relish that each and every day. I am one lucky SOB. I also just realized that one would have to be at least 63 to have any possible memory of the assassination at all. I have noticed with each passing year it gets less attention. That is how life works.