The Impersistence of Memory
Sometimes I think I'm the only one in my generation (born in '57) who doesn't remember the day that President John F. Kennedy was shot and killed, 40 years ago today. For instance, Tish Parmeley has a well-written reminiscence (culled from her book; someone please publish this woman!). So does Linkmeister and his comments section. So does Steve Bates. So does Billmon, using second-person narration. So does Melanie, my newest addition to the blogroll. So does Groom Lake. Mark Evanier talks about it here and here, and Peter David weighs in here. Also, Kevin Hayden mentions it briefly (by the way, happy blogiversary, Kevin!), and I'm pretty sure Seth Farber recalls the day, reading between the lines of his blog entry today. And this illustration on South Knox Bubba's site is just breathtaking. You know, I remember the moon landing, I remember the night of Lennon's death, obviously I remember the WTC falling... but, even given that my brain only seems to have so much holding capacity and I'm used to recollections disappearing by now, it kinda bothers me that I don't recall the day of Kennedy's assassination at all. Is there anyone else out who was old enough (school age, I guess) to have remembered this national tragedy and doesn't, or is it just me?