Even though it was before my time, the life and assassination of the late President John F. Kennedy interests me. I love biographies and so, it is natural for me.
I love to look at photos of him, Jackie, and their children when they were young with innocent faces untouched by the marks and horrors of their future lives.
We inherited all the magazines and newspapers of JFK’s presidency, the assassination, and the aftermath. The other day, I was thumbing through them, after reading they are going to re-examine JFK’s remains, and found this photograph of John Kennedy, which is now my favorite.
For some reason, it made me cry deeply. I actually sobbed. It made me feel as if what awaited him is written in small print in some corner of this photo. His destiny had already been set. Even the direction of his hair is blowing where he got shot the second time from the 2nd gunman, Oswald. Spooky, oui?
He looks so carefree, young and handsome walking along the dunes…something I used to love to do when I was little and we had a summer home on Cape Cod. My parents, I know were watching me, but I used to pretend I was alone, just walking, wandering, imagining, and thinking thoughts of this or that while smelling the ocean and feeling the breeze blow through my hair. I loved the cloudy days best.
When I look at this photo, I like to think John Kennedy is doing the same thing. If he was, well, then, despite the years, we have something in common.
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