Countdown 59: Birthdays

Today, November 22,  is my cousin Pam's birthday--she's the one with the bow in her hair, a couple of years older than me to her.

Look at those cute blondies with their lace collars and  fresh innocent faces, their whole lives ahead of them, with no clue that both of them would share future birthdays with tragic events in American history that had yet to unfold when their moms posed them together for this picture.

November 22, 1963 was a Friday, just like today, 6 days before Thanksgiving.  Students (and teachers, too) were looking forward to a short week ahead, then freetime and good food.  All those pleasant thoughts would fall by the wayside in the early afternoon when the nation all held their breath listening to Walter Cronkite announce that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas, Texas and pronounced dead at 1:00 pm CST.  The country would basically shut down, Broadway and the casinos in Vegas as well.  Regular TV programming was replaced with news broadcasts and many businesses shuttered their doors.  The entire country was in mourning and the funeral the following Monday was watched by 41.5 million households; the largest viewing audience ever recorded at the time.

If you were alive in 1963 and over the age of 5 you probably remembered where you were.  I was in my  eighth grade social studies class, middle row, towards the back.  There's so much that could be said about this event and its impact on America.  Sixty-one years later there is still an unsettled air of conspiracy and unsolved mystery surrounding it, despite the finality of the Warren Commission's investigation and report.

For years my birthday only had pleasant historical connections; Joan of Arc was born on my birthday, which is also when Christians celebrate the Epiphany or the Feast of the Three Kings,  the day after the 12th day of Christmas.  Have you figured it out?  My birthday is January 6th.

On January 6, 2021, a Wednesday, my husband and I and our best friends, the Hansons (all of us retired) met at Lake Harriet in Minneapolis and enjoyed a walk around the lake.  I remember stopping by a gathering of Minions who were still out celebrating the New Year.  These cute little toys had been posed by a tree and I wanted a picture to send to my grandson, who was enchanted by the little yellow guys. After our walk we ordered a pizza and had a winter picnic in the back of our van.  A silly, frivolous and fun way to spend a birthday.  Then we turned on the radio.  All the frivolity was gone.  Again America was plunged into darkness.  But this time, the unified sense of mourning that had indelibly imprinted Pam's birthday was replaced with a rending of America's heart.  The heartbreak continues.  

We are connected to the events of our country, in so many ways, big and small, tragic and banal.  Our fates are intertwined. I hope we can heal our broken hearts.