March 30, 1981. I remember the day. I was a 5th grader, sitting in Mrs. Logan's classroom at Lubbock Christian School. The announcement came over the loud speaker, "The President has been shot."
The attempted assassination of President Ronald Reagan was a shocking moment for a 10-year-old kid. It was one of those moments that has stood out in my life as particularly noteworthy--one of those moments where I can say, 28 years later, "I remember where I was when . . . ." Other events that have a place on that list of noteworthy moments include June 1, 1983, the day I was told Coach Dean had died in a motorcycle accident (I was at the LC.U. baseball field, watching the Chaps play in the World Series); Jan. 28, 1986, the day of the Shuttle Challenger explosion (I was in the L.C.H.S. band hall); Oct. 11, 2003, the night I was told that my grandfather had suufered a major stroke (I was hanging pictures at my house in Idalou); and Aug. 1, 2007, the day I heard the awful words, "I'm not coming home, I want a divorce" (I was in a hotel room in Albuquerque).
I'm just wondering: why is it that these memorable occasions seem to always include circumstances of great tragedy and hardship?
No comments:
Post a Comment