Fifty-three years ago. Can you believe it? Fifty-three years since that dismal day in Dallas. Fifty-three years since a gunman turned our world, and our innocence, upside down. I was raised in the Washington DC area, and still carry that sorrowful time in our nation’s history … along with a meaningful photograph I took.
It was a time that many people around my age will never forget. Where were you, what were you doing?
I stood on the hill at Arlington Cemetery on a cold day in December 1963, while our nation still was in shock, and took this image of the thousands of people who were coming night and day to pay their respects at the grave of President John F. Kennedy. He had been assassinated in Dallas less than two weeks before. November 22, 1963.
I remember the silence. The stillness. The sorrow.
The President’s resting place was surrounded by a white picket fence back then. It is also surrounded by our memories, and our affection, still.